LinMu 名博

据我所知那是一道通向黑暗的门。

外面，旧轴和铁环生锈了;

里面，铁锤碰击锻砧发出的短高音，

无法预料的扇形火花

或新马蹄铁在水中淬火时的嘶嘶声。

锻砧该放在中央某处，

一端像独角兽的犄角，四方形，

固定不动：一座祭台

在那里，他在音乐声中扩展锻造成型。

有时腰围皮革裙，鼻毛清晰可见，

他倚门探身，在车流穿行的路上

回想马蹄的得得声;

然后咕哝着走进去，重击快敲

打出真铁，鼓动风箱。

        （林木译）

The Forge

by Seamus Heaney

All I know is a door into the dark.

Outside, old axles and iron hoops rusting;

Inside, the hammered anvil’s short-pitched ring,

The unpredictable fantail of sparks

Or hiss when a new shoe toughens in water.

The anvil must be somewhere in the centre,

Horned as a unicorn, at one end and square,

Set there immoveable: an altar

Where he expends himself in shape and music.

Sometimes, leather-aproned, hairs in his nose,

He leans out on the jamb, recalls a clatter

Of hoofs where traffic is flashing in rows;

Then grunts and goes in, with a slam and flick

To beat real iron out, to work the bellows.