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作舟博克
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男同性恋诗人将在奥巴马就职大典上朗诵

   
   
   被白宫指定在奥巴马连任就职大典上朗诵诗歌的美国诗人理查布兰科。美国总统就职大典的历史中,只有五位诗人被邀请过,他是最年轻的一位。
   
   理查是拉美裔,父母是古巴人,他出生于西班牙。理查不仅是一位不为人知的少数族裔,他还是一名同性恋。奥巴马亲自参与了筛选工作,他对理查的出席非常满意。


   
   奥巴马称,他十分荣幸理查能在他和副总统就职大典上朗诵,这不单纯是理查对美国诗歌的贡献,更体现的美国的力量和民族的多元!
   
   
   理查诗歌选读:
   
   
   Place of Mind
   
   
   Mist haunts the city, tears of rain fall
   from the awnings and window ledges.
   The search for myself begins an echo
   drifting away the moment I arrive.
   
   From the awnings and window ledges
   follow the rain flowing down the streets.
   The moment I arrive, I drift away:
   Why am I always imagining the sea?
   
   Follow the rain flowing down the streets
   vanishing into the mouths of gutters.
   Why am I always imagining the sea?
   A breath, a wave—a breath, a wave.
   
   Vanishing into the mouths of gutters,
   rain becomes lake, river, ocean again.
   A breath, a wave—a breath, a wave
   always beginning, yet always ending.
   
   Rain becomes lake, river, ocean, again
   mist haunts the city, tears of rain fall
   always ending, yet always beginning,
   the search for myself ends in an echo.
   
   
   
   
   
   Of Consequence, Inconsequently
   
   
   A bearded shepherd in a gray wool vest,
   a beret lowered to his brow, that's how
   my blood has always imagined the man
   who was my great-grandfather, his eyes
   hazel, I was told once. But I'll never see
   
   what he saw of his life in the cold rivers
   of Asturias. I can only imagine the fog
   caressing the hills of his village and him
   watching from the window of the train
   he took to Sevilla—for love, my mother
   explained to me once, holding a ghost
   
   of him in a photo on his wedding day
   with an ascot tie and buttoned shoes
   standing in a room filled with mahogany
   and red roses. Were they red? What color
   were the tiers of Spanish lace cascading
   from my great-grandmother's dress?
   
   Nothing can speak for them now, tell me
   what they saw in their eyes that morning
   they left for love or war or both, crossing
   the sea to Cuban palms and cane fields
   quietly sweetening under the quite sun.
   But what if they'd never met, what color
   
   would my eyes be? Who would I be now
   had they gone to Johannesburg instead,
   or Maracaibo, or not left Sevilla at all?
   Into what seas would I have cast thoughts,
   what other cities would I've drowned in?
   
   The countries I would've lost, or betrayed,
   the languages I would speak or not speak,
   the names that would've been my names—
   I'd like to believe I've willed every detail
   of my life, but I'm a consequence, a drop
   of rain, a seed fallen by chance, here
   
   in the middle of a story I don't know,
   having to finish it and call it my own.
(2013/01/09 发表)
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