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洛爾娜·克罗泽（Lorna Crozier，1948- ），加拿大女诗人，早年在萨斯卡切温大学和阿尔伯塔大学学习，毕业后当过教师和政府通讯部门的官员。她的诗集主要有《里面是天空》《乌鸦的黑色快乐》《人类与其他野兽》《没有我们而继续的花园》《肉体的天使，沉默的天使》《创造鹰》《目击》《万物迎着光而到来》《翅膀中的骨头》《磨刀石》《第一个词语之前》《这一天的蓝色时辰》《奇迹之书》《灵魂不需要的东西》《影子的上帝》《精神建造的房子》等。她获得过加拿大“总督诗歌奖”等多种奖项。
月 亮
缺乏韵文，但有那么多隐喻，大多被磨得细薄。一只奶酪的轮子，一只雪盲的眼睛，年轻月亮怀抱着老月亮。你希望克里斯蒂·摩尔①会写一首关于老月亮的歌。当然，要说它观察或者跟随我们越过乡间，尽管你会发誓说这样的事情发生过，但那并不是真实的。虽然你从不曾看见任何人长毛或者嚎叫，月亮也会挑事。当它足够明亮的时候，它就在夜里投下我们的影子。天黑之后，我们的影子极少被放出来，它们就充分利用月亮，有时你在回家时，它会引着你走错路。要是你幸运，那时你会看到白色的野兔在积雪中跳舞，而月亮大张着嘴，仿佛惊奇不已——这话你能只说一次吗？——仿佛惊奇不已，世界因为冬天，因为跳跃的野兔而发光。
注：①爱尔兰首席民歌吉他手（1945-）。
Moon
A paucity of rhymes but so many metaphors， most worn thin. A wheel of cheese， a snow-blind eye， the old moon in the young moon’s arms. You wish Christy Moore would write a song about that old one. Surely it’s not true to say it watches or follows us across the countryside， though you’d swear that happens. And though you’ve never seen anyone grow fur and howl， the moon does stir things up. When it’s bright enough， it casts our shadows in the night. They’re let out after dark so rarely they make the most of it， sometimes leading you the wrong way home. That’s when， if you’re lucky， you’ll see the white hares dancing in the snow， the moon with its mouth wide open as if in wonder—can you say that just this once？—as if in wonder， the world luminous with winter， the wild hares leaping.
灯 盏
在房子的所有房间中，灯盏迷恋图书室。在翻开的书页上，它照亮无形的城市，埃古①带着话语的鞭子等待的思想的角落，一个黑脚族②男孩即将在柏树山上偷窃的猎狼人的马的侧腹。如果没有图书室，灯盏就偏爱卧室。它将流明③倾洒在一个女人的头发上，在她朝着镜子弯腰，合上一串珍珠上的扣子时，温暖她的裸露出的肩头，而每一颗珍珠都呈彩虹色，被光芒舔舐。一旦关掉灯，它就等待它的时机，穿过早晨和温暖的下午，等到有人来轻叩开关，表明最初的那句“要有光”。由于它生活在室内，它怀念点灯人在街上点亮高高的提灯的那些日子，雪花飘落，在围绕他们的一派漆黑和寒冷之中，燃烧的灯油投下的一汪汪黄色更美。然后，任何出来散步的人都能看见灯盏在高空中亮起，在银河系中的每一颗行星上，都有一个女人系紧那一串环绕在她脖子的小月亮;在每一颗星星上，都有人阅读。
注：①莎士比亚悲剧《奥赛罗》中的反面人物。②美洲印第安人的一支，多生活在美国蒙大拿州和加拿大艾尔伯塔省。③光流的强度单位。
Lamp
Of all the rooms in the house， the lamp fancies the library. On the pages of the open book， it illuminates invisible cities， the corner of the mind where Iago waits with a whip of words， the flanks of the wolf hunter’s horse a Blackfoot boy is about to steal in the Cypress Hills. If there’s no library， the lamp prefers the bedroom. It spills its lumen on a woman’s hair， warms the bareness of her shoulders as she bends toward a mirror to close the clasp on a string of pearls， each one iridescent， light-licked. Turned off， the lamp bides its time， waits through the mornings and the warm afternoons for someone to flick the switch that manifests the first let there be. Because it lives indoors， it has a nostalgia for the days when lamplighters attended to the tall lanterns in the streets， the snow falling， the yellow pools cast by the burning oil more beautiful for all the dark and cold around them. Then， anyone out walking could see the lamps light up in the sky high above， on every planet in the galaxy a woman fastening a string of tiny moons around her neck; on every star， someone reading. 鏡 子
镜子是一个硬化成冰、内部流动的池塘。它周围的边框停止融化。它厌倦了凝视天空，需要去看别的东西，某种回看着它的东西。为此，它设置了一种空白的表情;它绝不会打断，或者哆嗦，或者允许它的欲望像银白色的鲦鱼迅疾地游过一张面庞。无论如何，在房子的世界中，它正死于厌倦和后悔。它渴望看到一只豆娘，渴望品尝雨水，渴望感受睡莲的苞蕾受到绽放的驱使而变得粗壮时的重量。居住者的仆人，镜子渴望把一切都纳入其中。就像卡珊德拉①，它被授予了准确的无情魅力，然而它必须显得没有辨别力，无法从普通生活中分出美与丑。尽管人们对它的注意要多于房间里所有其他的物体，它也无形得怪异。人们一天数次盯着它，注意力不断加深，留意到下巴上的短硬胡须，上唇的微微颤动，眼睛的伪装。他们从来就看不见镜子。
注：①希腊神话中的特洛伊公主，阿波罗的祭司，后因抗拒阿波罗的旨意，致使其预言失灵，不再被人相信。
Mirror
A mirror is a pond that hardened into ice and moved inside. The frame around it stops its melt. Weary of gazing at the sky， it needed something else to look at， something that looked back. For this， it sets a blank expression; it never interrupts or shivers or allows its desires to dart like silver minnows across a face. However， in the world of the house， it is dying of boredom and regret. It longs to see a damselfly， to taste the rain， to feel the weight of water lilies as the buds thicken with the imperative to bloom. Servant to the occupants， the mirror is dying of holding everything inside. Like Cassandra， it’s been granted the ruthless grace of accuracy， though it must appear undiscerning， unable to separate the beauty from the ugliness in ordinary life. Though more attention is paid to it than any other object in the room， it is strangely invisible. People stare into it several times a day with deepening attention， noting bristles on a chin， a tremor in the upper lip， the eyes’ dissemblance. They never see the mirror.
月 亮
缺乏韵文，但有那么多隐喻，大多被磨得细薄。一只奶酪的轮子，一只雪盲的眼睛，年轻月亮怀抱着老月亮。你希望克里斯蒂·摩尔①会写一首关于老月亮的歌。当然，要说它观察或者跟随我们越过乡间，尽管你会发誓说这样的事情发生过，但那并不是真实的。虽然你从不曾看见任何人长毛或者嚎叫，月亮也会挑事。当它足够明亮的时候，它就在夜里投下我们的影子。天黑之后，我们的影子极少被放出来，它们就充分利用月亮，有时你在回家时，它会引着你走错路。要是你幸运，那时你会看到白色的野兔在积雪中跳舞，而月亮大张着嘴，仿佛惊奇不已——这话你能只说一次吗？——仿佛惊奇不已，世界因为冬天，因为跳跃的野兔而发光。
注：①爱尔兰首席民歌吉他手（1945-）。
Moon
A paucity of rhymes but so many metaphors， most worn thin. A wheel of cheese， a snow-blind eye， the old moon in the young moon’s arms. You wish Christy Moore would write a song about that old one. Surely it’s not true to say it watches or follows us across the countryside， though you’d swear that happens. And though you’ve never seen anyone grow fur and howl， the moon does stir things up. When it’s bright enough， it casts our shadows in the night. They’re let out after dark so rarely they make the most of it， sometimes leading you the wrong way home. That’s when， if you’re lucky， you’ll see the white hares dancing in the snow， the moon with its mouth wide open as if in wonder—can you say that just this once？—as if in wonder， the world luminous with winter， the wild hares leaping.
灯 盏
在房子的所有房间中，灯盏迷恋图书室。在翻开的书页上，它照亮无形的城市，埃古①带着话语的鞭子等待的思想的角落，一个黑脚族②男孩即将在柏树山上偷窃的猎狼人的马的侧腹。如果没有图书室，灯盏就偏爱卧室。它将流明③倾洒在一个女人的头发上，在她朝着镜子弯腰，合上一串珍珠上的扣子时，温暖她的裸露出的肩头，而每一颗珍珠都呈彩虹色，被光芒舔舐。一旦关掉灯，它就等待它的时机，穿过早晨和温暖的下午，等到有人来轻叩开关，表明最初的那句“要有光”。由于它生活在室内，它怀念点灯人在街上点亮高高的提灯的那些日子，雪花飘落，在围绕他们的一派漆黑和寒冷之中，燃烧的灯油投下的一汪汪黄色更美。然后，任何出来散步的人都能看见灯盏在高空中亮起，在银河系中的每一颗行星上，都有一个女人系紧那一串环绕在她脖子的小月亮;在每一颗星星上，都有人阅读。
注：①莎士比亚悲剧《奥赛罗》中的反面人物。②美洲印第安人的一支，多生活在美国蒙大拿州和加拿大艾尔伯塔省。③光流的强度单位。
Lamp
Of all the rooms in the house， the lamp fancies the library. On the pages of the open book， it illuminates invisible cities， the corner of the mind where Iago waits with a whip of words， the flanks of the wolf hunter’s horse a Blackfoot boy is about to steal in the Cypress Hills. If there’s no library， the lamp prefers the bedroom. It spills its lumen on a woman’s hair， warms the bareness of her shoulders as she bends toward a mirror to close the clasp on a string of pearls， each one iridescent， light-licked. Turned off， the lamp bides its time， waits through the mornings and the warm afternoons for someone to flick the switch that manifests the first let there be. Because it lives indoors， it has a nostalgia for the days when lamplighters attended to the tall lanterns in the streets， the snow falling， the yellow pools cast by the burning oil more beautiful for all the dark and cold around them. Then， anyone out walking could see the lamps light up in the sky high above， on every planet in the galaxy a woman fastening a string of tiny moons around her neck; on every star， someone reading. 鏡 子
镜子是一个硬化成冰、内部流动的池塘。它周围的边框停止融化。它厌倦了凝视天空，需要去看别的东西，某种回看着它的东西。为此，它设置了一种空白的表情;它绝不会打断，或者哆嗦，或者允许它的欲望像银白色的鲦鱼迅疾地游过一张面庞。无论如何，在房子的世界中，它正死于厌倦和后悔。它渴望看到一只豆娘，渴望品尝雨水，渴望感受睡莲的苞蕾受到绽放的驱使而变得粗壮时的重量。居住者的仆人，镜子渴望把一切都纳入其中。就像卡珊德拉①，它被授予了准确的无情魅力，然而它必须显得没有辨别力，无法从普通生活中分出美与丑。尽管人们对它的注意要多于房间里所有其他的物体，它也无形得怪异。人们一天数次盯着它，注意力不断加深，留意到下巴上的短硬胡须，上唇的微微颤动，眼睛的伪装。他们从来就看不见镜子。
注：①希腊神话中的特洛伊公主，阿波罗的祭司，后因抗拒阿波罗的旨意，致使其预言失灵，不再被人相信。
Mirror
A mirror is a pond that hardened into ice and moved inside. The frame around it stops its melt. Weary of gazing at the sky， it needed something else to look at， something that looked back. For this， it sets a blank expression; it never interrupts or shivers or allows its desires to dart like silver minnows across a face. However， in the world of the house， it is dying of boredom and regret. It longs to see a damselfly， to taste the rain， to feel the weight of water lilies as the buds thicken with the imperative to bloom. Servant to the occupants， the mirror is dying of holding everything inside. Like Cassandra， it’s been granted the ruthless grace of accuracy， though it must appear undiscerning， unable to separate the beauty from the ugliness in ordinary life. Though more attention is paid to it than any other object in the room， it is strangely invisible. People stare into it several times a day with deepening attention， noting bristles on a chin， a tremor in the upper lip， the eyes’ dissemblance. They never see the mirror.