弗罗斯特（RobertFrost）诗精选：西去的溪水

　　
　　□ 星星分割器
　　
　　“你知道猎户座总从天边升起。
　　先是一条腿迈过我们栅栏似的群山，
　　接着举起手臂，像是看我
　　借着灯火，在外面干我本该
　　在白天干完的农活。的确，
　　大地冻结之后，我只能干它结冻
　　之前我应该做的，阵风将几片
　　枯萎的落叶丢进我冒烟的
　　提灯，嘲笑我干活的熊样儿，
　　或者嘲笑猎户座让我走火入魔。
　　我倒要问问，一个人，难道
　　不该关心这冥冥中的影响力？”
　　布莱德·麦克劳林轻率地将
　　星星和他杂乱的农事混为一谈，
　　直到他不再做那无章的农活，
　　他一把火烧光了房子，骗取了火灾保险金
　　用得来的钱买了台天文望远镜
　　以满足他终身的好奇心——
　　关于我们在无限宇宙中所处的位置。
　　
　　“你要那该死的东西干什么？”
　　我先前问他，“你不是有一个嘛！”
　　“别说它该死；只要不是
　　人类战争使用的武器，任何东西
　　都无可指责，”他当时说，
　　“如果我卖掉农场我就买一个。”
　　他那块地在耕作时总需要搬石头
　　而且里面有许多大石头搬不走，
　　所以农场很难转手；他折腾了很久
　　想卖农场卖不掉，只好
　　为得笔火灾保险干脆将房子全烧光
　　然后如前所说，如愿以偿。
　　有几个人早就听他这么说过：
　　“人世间最有趣的事就是目不转睛，
　　而让我们看得最远的就是
　　天文望远镜。我看每个镇
　　都该有热心人为他那里弄一台。
　　而在利特尔顿，非我莫属。”
　　如此大大咧咧信口开河，他烧毁房子
　　骗得保险金也就不足为奇。
　　
　　但那天冷笑声在镇上四处弥漫
　　好让他知道我们不是孤陋寡闻，
　　等着吧——明天大家就会嘲笑他。
　　但第二天早上，我们首先
　　想的是一个人总会犯点儿错误，
　　如果我们搬着指头一个一个地数，
　　那么很快全都成了“独鬼子”。
　　要你来我往，就必须宽宏大量。
　　譬如那个经常偷东西的小偷，
　　我们没说不让他来教堂参加圣餐仪式，
　　只是丢的东西他得还回来，
　　只要没吃掉，没弄坏，没转手。
　　所以不能因为一台天文望远镜
　　就对布莱德说三道四。毕竟他一把年纪
　　不可能得到这样一份圣诞礼物，
　　他只能用自以为是的办法
　　给自己弄一个。好，我们只说
　　他还以为这事能把我们蒙在鼓里呢。
　　居然有人为那房子唉声叹气，
　　那是一幢年代久远的原木房子，
　　但房子没有感觉，房子不会
　　知道任何事。即便它有，那
　　为什么不把它看成是某种祭品呢，
　　一种过时的火中的祭品，
　　而不是新式的亏本拍卖的商品？
　　
　　一根火柴哧啦一声划掉了房子
　　也划掉了整个农场，布莱德不得不
　　改行到康科德铁路公司谋生，
　　在一个车站上做车票代理，
　　当他不卖票的时候，他就
　　满怀热情地忙活，当然这不像
　　在农场上那样，而是观望各种星星
　　红色绿色五颜六色。
　　
　　他花600美元买了台很棒的望远镜。
　　新工作使他有闲暇观望星星。
　　他经常邀请我去一道观望
　　透过衬着黑天鹅绒的黄铜色圆镜筒，
　　看另一端瑟瑟发抖的星星。
　　我记得那是一个云彩细碎的夜晚
　　脚下的积雪早已融化成冰，
　　更在寒风中冻结成泥泞。
　　布莱德和我一起搬出那台望远镜：
　　叉开它的三脚支架，叉开我们的双腿。
　　我们的心思对准它对准的方位，
　　在闲暇中站立等待黎明到来，
　　聊起了一些从来没有聊过的好事情。
　　
　　那台望远镜美其名曰“星星分割器”，
　　因为它只能将星星一分为二
　　或一分为三，就像你用一根手指
　　逢中一击，将掌心的一滴水银分割成
　　两三滴，其他再没别的功能。
　　如果真有星星分割器那这就是一个代表
　　如果分割星星和用斧头劈柴
　　一样有趣，那它还算是用点用。
　　
　　我们看啊看，眼睛睁得像鸡蛋，可我们
　　看见了什么？我们究竟在哪里？
　　而在今晚，这个东西又是怎样架在夜空
　　和有着一个冒烟的提灯的人之间？
　　那叉开腿的架势难不成会有更大的变化？
　　
　　Star-Splitter, The
　　                        
　　“You know Orien always comes up sideways.
　　Throwing a leg up over our fence of mountains,
　　And rising on his hands, he looks in on me
　　Busy outdoors by lantern-light with something
　　I should have done by daylight, and indeed,
　　After the ground is frozen, I should have done
　　Before it froze, and a gust flings a handful
　　Of waste leaves at my smoky lantern chimney
　　To make fun of my way of doing things,
　　Or else fun of Orion"s having caught me.
　　Has a man, I should like to ask, no rights
　　These forces are obliged to pay respect to?”
　　So Brad McLaughlin mingled reckless talk
　　Of heavenly stars with hugger-mugger farming,
　　Till having failed at hugger-mugger farming,
　　He burned his house down for the fire insurance
　　And spent the proceeds on a telescope
　　To satisfy a life-long curiosity
　　About our place among the infinities.
　　
　　“What do you want with one of those blame things?”
　　I asked him well beforehand. “Don"t you get one!”
　　“Don"t call it blamed; there isn"t anything
　　More blameless in the sense of being less
　　A weapon in our human fight," he said.
　　"I"ll have one if I sell my farm to buy it.”
　　There where he moved the rocks to plow the ground
　　And plowed between the rocks he couldn"t move,
　　Few farms changed hands; so rather than spend years
　　Trying to sell his farm and then not selling,
　　He burned his house down for the fire insurance
　　And bought the telescope with what it came to.
　　He had been heard to say by several:
　　“The best thing that we"re put here for"s to see;
　　The strongest thing that"s given us to see with"s
　　A telescope. Someone in every town
　　Seems to me owes it to the town to keep one.
　　In Littleton it may as well be me.”
　　After such loose talk it was no surprise
　　When he did what he did and burned his house down.
　　Mean laughter went about the town that day
　　To let him know we weren"t the least imposed on,
　　And he could wait--we"d see to him to-morrow.
　　But the first thing next morning we reflected
　　If one by one we counted people out
　　For the least sin, it wouldn"t take us long
　　To get so we had no one left to live with.
　　For to be social is to be forgiving.
　　Our thief, the one who does our stealing from us,
　　We don"t cut off from coming to church suppers,
　　But what we miss we go to him and ask for.
　　He promptly gives it back, that is if still
　　Uneaten, unworn out, or undisposed of.
　　It wouldn"t do to be too hard on Brad
　　About his telescope. Beyond the age
　　Of being given one"s gift for Christmas,
　　He had to take the best way he knew how
　　To find himself in one. Well, all we said was
　　He took a strange thing to be roguish over.
　　Some sympathy was wasted on the house,
　　A good old-timer dating back along;
　　But a house isn"t sentient; the house
　　Didn"t feel anything. And if it did,
　　Why not regard it as a sacrifice,
　　And an old-fashioned sacrifice by fire,
　　Instead of a new-fashioned one at auction?
　　
　　Out of a house and so out of a farm
　　At one stroke (of a match), Brad had to turn
　　To earn a living on the Concord railroad,
　　As under-ticket-agent at a station
　　Where his job, when he wasn"t selling tickets,
　　Was setting out up track and down, not plants
　　As on a farm, but planets, evening stars
　　That varied in their hue from red to green.
　　
　　He got a good glass for six hundred dollars.
　　His new job gave him leisure for star-gazing.
　　Often he bid me come and have a look
　　Up the brass barrel, velvet black inside,
　　At a star quaking in the other end.
　　I recollect a night of broken clouds
　　And underfoot snow melted down to ice,
　　And melting further in the wind to mud.
　　Bradford and I had out the telescope.
　　We spread our two legs as it spread its three,
　　Pointed our thoughts the way we pointed it,
　　And standing at our leisure till the day broke,
　　Said some of the best things we ever said.
　　That telescope was christened the Star-splitter,
　　Because it didn"t do a thing but split
　　A star in two or three the way you split
　　A globule of quicksilver in your hand
　　With one stroke of your finger in the middle.
　　It"s a star-splitter if there ever was one
　　And ought to do some good if splitting stars
　　"Sa thing to be compared with splitting wood.
　　
　　We"ve looked and looked, but after all where are we?
　　Do we know any better where we are,
　　And how it stands between the night to-night
　　And a man with a smoky lantern chimney?
　　How different from the way it ever stood?