Born in Boston in 1932. At eight, her German-emigrant entomologist father died, which she, years later, would interpret as abandonment, and which became one important motif in her poetry. In 1962, her marriage with British poet Ted Hughes collapsed, and after his departure in October, she produced some forty poems in less than two months, the most stunning in the 20th century literary history. Her move to London in December 1962 did not bring any luck due to the extremely cold winter, and on February 11, she gassed herself. She published a thin volume of poems The Colossus (1961) and an autobiographical novel The Bell Jar (1962) during her lifetime. Her posthumous Collected Poems edited by Ted Hughes won a Pulitzer in 1982.

西尔维亚-普拉斯于1932年生于波斯顿。八岁那年其蜂学专家的德裔父亲去世。这被她后来阐释为一种背弃，并进而成为她诗歌的一个重要主题。1962年她与英国诗人泰德-休斯的婚姻破裂，休斯在10月留下她和两个孩子。在过后的两个月里，她写出的数十首诗篇无论诗艺还是内容都震撼着二十世纪文学史。1963年，伦敦遭遇几十年不见的寒冬，她独自带着两个孩子，或许因为无助，她于2月11日以煤气自杀。生前她出版过一本诗集《巨雕》以及一部自传性小说《钟罩瓶》。她去世后泰德-休斯编辑出版了她的《诗全编》（1981年），获得普立策奖。

生于中国江苏，1987年毕业于北京师范大学，后任教于南京东南大学十余年，写诗、译诗、研究诗歌，目前在新加坡国立大学，为博士候选人。

Native of Jiangsu, PRC, upon graduation from Beijing Normal University in 1987, taught in Southeast University Nanjing for a dozen of years.  He writes, translates and currently is studying poetry in National University of Singapore.

Words

词

Axes 
After whose stroke the wood rings, 
And the echoes! 
Echoes traveling 
Off from the center like horses. 

The sap 
Wells like tears, like the 
Water striving 
To re-establish its mirror 
Over the rock 

That drops and turns, 
A white skull, 
Eaten by weedy greens. 
Years later I 
Encounter them on the road------

Words dry and riderless, 
The indefatigable hoof-taps. 
While 
From the bottom of the pool, fixed stars 
Govern a life.
			

斧头，
树木因其砍击而鸣响，
回声荡漾！
自树心荡开，
回声如群马奔离。

树汁
泉涌似泪，又如
流水勉力
在石块上
重展它的明镜。

石块下落、翻滚，
一只白脑壳，
被杂草丛生的绿水吞没。
多年后的我
邂逅它们于路上——

词，干枯而无人驾驭，
毫无倦意的蹄音。
而同时
恒定的星辰自那潭水深处
宰制着某人一生。
			

Sheep in Fog

雾中羊

                           
The hills step off into whiteness. 
People or stars 
Regard me sadly, I disappoint them. 

The train leaves a line of breath. 
O slow 
Horse the color of rust, 

Hooves, dolorous bells------ 
All morning the 
Morning has been blackening, 

A flower left out. 
My bones hold a stillness, the far 
Fields melt my heart. 

They threaten 
To let me through to a heaven 
Starless and fatherless, a dark water.
			

群山移步，隐入白色。
或许是人抑或星辰
观注着我，神色哀怨；我辜负了他们。

火车留下一线呼吸。
哦，马儿
迟缓，呈铁锈的颜色，

蹄音，忧戚的铃声——
整个早上
早晨越来越黑，

一朵花被弃置。
我的骨骼持守着一种静止，
远野溶化我的心。

它们威胁
要让我穿过一座天堂，
没有星、没有父亲，黑水一汪。
			

The Munich Mannequins

慕尼黑的模特

                           
Perfection is terrible, it cannot have children. 
Cold as snow breath, it tamps the womb 

Where the yew trees blow like hydras, 
The tree of life and the tree of life 

Unloosing their moons, month after month, to no purpose. 
The blood flood is the flood of love, 

The absolute sacrifice. 
It means: no more idols but me, 

Me and you. 
So, in their sulfur loveliness, in their smiles 

These mannequins lean tonight 
In Munich, morgue between Paris and Rome, 

Naked and bald in their furs, 
Orange lollies on silver sticks, 

Intolerable, without mind. 
The snow drops its pieces of darkness, 

Nobody's about. In the hotels 
Hands will be opening doors and setting 

Down shoes for a polish of carbon 
Into which broad toes will go tomorrow. 

O the domesticity of these windows, 
The baby lace, the green-leaved confectionery, 

The thick Germans slumbering in their bottomless Stolz. 
And the black phones on hooks 

Glittering 
Glittering and digesting 

Voicelessness. The snow has no voice.
			

完美是可怖的，它不能生子。
冷似雪的气息，它堵死子宫，

那里的紫杉如蛇头怪似地吹气，
一颗又一颗生命之树

释放着月亮，一月又一月，毫无结果。
血之潮便是爱之潮，

极品祭物。
它意味着：再无偶像，除了我，

我，还有你。
所以，披着硫磺的可爱、挂着微笑，

今夜，这些模特倚靠
在慕尼黑，巴黎与罗马间的陈尸房，

它们赤裸、秃头、披着裘皮，
银棍上插着橙黄的棒棒糖，

俗不可耐、毫无思想。
雪花落下它的片片黑暗，

四下无人。宾馆里
总有一双双手在开门、摆好

软毛鞋，让人用碳粉抛光，
肥脚趾将会插进去行走明天。

哦，家的气息来自这些窗子、
婴儿饰带、绿窗帘的糖果店、

沉入无底梦乡的粗壮的德国佬。
而黑色电话扣在座钩上

闪着光，
边闪光边消化，

悄然无声。雪缄默无声。
			

Gigolo

舞男

                           
Pocket watch, I tick well. 
The streets are lizardy crevices 
Sheer-sided, with holes where to hide. 
It is best to meet in a cul-de-sac, 

A palace of velvet 
With windows of mirrors. 
There one is safe, 
There are no family photographs, 

No rings through the nose, no cries. 
Bright fish hooks, the smiles of women 
Gulp at my bulk 
And I, in my snazzy blacks, 

Mill a litter of breasts like jellyfish. 
To nourish 
The cellos of moans I eat eggs--- 
Eggs and fish, the essentials, 

The aphrodisiac squid. 
My mouth sags, 
The mouth of Christ 
When my engine reaches the end of it. 

The tattle of my 
Gold joints, my way of turning 
Bitches to ripples of silver 
Rolls out a carpet, a hush. 

And there is no end, no end of it. 
I shall never grow old. New oysters 
Shriek in the sea and I 
Glitter like Fontainebleau 

Gratified, 
All the fall of water an eye 
Over whose pool I tenderly 
Lean and see me. 
			

怀表，我踢跶得真好。
街道是蜥蜴出没的裂沟，
两壁陡峭，有许多洞穴可以藏身。
还是在死胡同见面最好，

一座丝绒宫殿
以镜子为窗。
人在那里很安全，
那儿没有家人的照片，

鼻子上没有环、也无哭闹。
明晃晃的鱼钩、女人的笑
大口吞咬我的躯干，
而我，超炫的黑色装扮，

把浮标般到处乱抛的乳房研磨成泡沫。
为了滋养
大提琴的悲咽，我吃鸡蛋——
鸡蛋和鱼、基本营养、

催情的乌贼。
我唇角下垂，
犹如耶稣的嘴，
我的机车已到达其终点。

我的金关节
唧唧咕咕，我以这种方式
将母狗变成银的涟漪，
卷起一张地毯，一片静寂。

还没有终结，没到它的终点。
我将永远不会变老。新生的蚝
在海中尖叫，而我
闪闪发光，就像枫丹白露

心满意足，
整个这片落水，一只眼睛，
我缓缓倾身向它的潭面，
看见了我自己。