冬蚁的翅膀哆嗦着
等待荒芜冬季的结束。
我爱你，以缓慢，笨拙的方式，
几乎不做声，只吐一两个词。
是什么让我们隐匿着过活？
一道伤，这风，一个词，人父或人母。
有时我们只能无奈地等待，
尴尬，不完整，未愈。
当我们藏起伤口，便从人类
退化为壳类的生物。
此刻，我们感触蚂蚁坚硬的胸膛，
甲壳，缄默的舌头。
一定得是蚂蚁的方式，
冬天的蚂蚁，那些方式
受伤但仍咬牙活下去：
呼吸，感知另一个，等待。
（微笑 译）
Winter Poem
Robert Bly
The quivering wings of the winter ant
wait for lean winter to end.
I love you in slow, dim-witted ways,
hardly speaking, one or two words only.
What caused us to live hidden?
A wound, the wind, a word, a parent.
Sometimes we wait in a helpless way,
awkwardly, not whole and not healed.
When we hid the wound, we fell back
from a human to a shelled life.
Now we feel the ant's hard chest,
the carapace, the silent tongue.
The must be the way of the ant,
the winter ant, the way of those
who are wounded and want to live:
to breathe, to sense another, and to wait.
