即使我知道玛丽·奥利佛在美国很火，即使我也是因为她的一句诗而决定读她的作品，但也不是每首是都有感觉的，甚至常常还要迫使自己耐下心坚持。但是当我读完这首，心里的某一个小窗突然被她打开了，我的目光被引向了一个我从未涉及的角度：一个流动，循环，相互融进，生生不息的世界；你怎么就知道你的前生后世不是一只狐狸呢？从这一刻起，玛丽的诗不再只是文字，韵律，意境，是什么？我一直在想。
一只死狐狸
在碎石路边
发现了一只死狐狸。
屈倦在一个
丢弃多年的拖拉机轮子里，
藤曼覆盖了路边。
不知道
它来到这里的时候
到底发生了什么，
或者说为什么
它就这样永远地躺在了这里？
它消瘦的脸颊
靠在轮子生锈的边缘上。
眼望着田野的方向，
就那样死了。
但是我知道，
这一姿势
是它在最后时刻，
对世界的回望。
于是我想唱点什么，
关于狐狸的快乐而温柔的歌。
可是，这样的事发生了。
当我钻过金银花的藤曼，
当我躬起身
躺进那个冰冷的车轮里
当我碰到狐狸冰冷的身体，
我抬眼朝广阔的田野望去，
这只狐狸不见了！
只剩下了我自己和这个世界，
是我，我是那个离开者。
那我还能唱什么？
哦，这美丽的世界！
我就这样躺在那，
看着这一切。
天渐渐暗了下来，
那一天就这样过去了。
星星如期而至，
举着它们各自的火把，
哦，这些炽热，坚强的守夜人。
I Found a Dead Fox
I found a dead fox
beside the gravel road,
curled inside the big
iron wheel
of an old tractor
that has been standing,
for years,
in the vines at the edge
of the road.
I don't know
what happened to it -
when it came there
or why it lay down
for good, settling
its narrow chin
on the rusted rim
of the iron wheel
to look out
over the fields,
and that way died -
but I know
this: its posture -
of looking,
to the last possible moment,
back into the world -
made me want
to sing something
joyous and tender
about foxes.
But what happened is this -
when I began,
when I crawled in
through the honeysuckle
and lay down
curling my long spine
inside that cold wheel,
and touched the dead fox,
and looked out
into the wide fields,
the fox
vanished.
There was only myself
and the world,
and it was I
who was leaving.
And what could I sing
then?
Oh, beautiful world!
I just lay there
and looked at it.
And then it grew dark.
That day was done with.
And then the stars stepped forth
and held up their appointed
fires -
those hot, hard
watchmen of the night.
