Sylvia Plath - Winter Trees 汉译

The wet dawn inks are doing their blue dissolve.<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" />

On their blotter of fog the trees

Seem a botanical drawing—

Memories growing, ring on ring,

A series of weddings.

Knowing neither abortions nor bitchery,

Truer than women,

They seed so effortlessly!

Tasting the winds, that are footless,

Waist-deep in history—

Full of wings, otherworldliness.

In this, they are Ledas.

O mother of leaves and sweetness

Who are these pietàs?

The shadows of ringdoves chanting, but easing nothing.

                                                                     1972