Spring

BY EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY


To what purpose, April, do you return again? 
Beauty is not enough. 
You can no longer quiet me with the redness 
Of little leaves opening stickily. 
I know what I know. 
The sun is hot on my neck as I observe 
The spikes of the crocus. 
The smell of the earth is good. 
It is apparent that there is no death. 
But what does that signify? 
Not only under ground are the brains of men 
Eaten by maggots. 
Life in itself 
Is nothing, 
An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs. 
It is not enough that yearly, down this hill, 
April 
Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers. 

春

艾德娜·圣·文森特·米雷

四月，你为什么再次回来？
美丽应该不是全部理由

你不能再光凭着
刚刚展开粘粘的嫩红叶芽
让我闭嘴

我知我所知
太阳晒着我的脖子很热是我所知
番红花的蓓蕾
还有大地吐出芬芳

很明显没有死亡这回事儿
可那又能说明什么呢
不单只是在地下蛆虫吃着人脑

生命本身
什么都不是
一只空杯子，一段没铺地毯的楼梯
那不是你——四月，
每年沿着山坡播撒鲜花的全部理由