Sharon Olds' most recent book is Strike Sparks: Selected Poems 1980-2002 (September 2004). Other books include: The Unswept Room (2002), Blood, Tin, Straw (1999), The Wellspring (1996), The Father (1992), The Gold Cell (1987), and The Dead and the Living (1984), which received the National Book Critics Circle Award. In 1997, she received the Harriet Monroe Prize from the University of Chicago. From 1998-2000 she was New York State Poet Laureate. The Unswept Room was a finalist for the National Book Award. She teaches in the Graduate Creative Writing Program at New York University.

莎伦-欧兹最近出版有诗集《撞击火花，1980－2002诗选》（2004）。其他诗集包括：《未清扫的房间》(2002)，《血液，锡罐，吸管》（1999），《源泉》（1996），《父亲》（1992），《金细胞》（1987），以及《死去的和活着的》（1984），后者获得1985年的国家书评奖。1997年，她荣获芝加哥大学哈里特?门罗诗歌奖。1998－2000期间被命名为纽约州桂冠诗人；2002年诗集《未清扫的房间》获国家图书奖提名。她现在纽约大学教授研究生写作班的诗歌创作。

雪绒组诗“六美图”获2002年“世界华人李白诗歌奖大赛”二等奖；现为北美《侨报》副刊撰写“新雪世界”专栏。

Sharon Wang won the second prize for World Chinese Li Bai Poetry Contest (2002). She is a column writer for a major overseas Chinese newspaper.

Sex Without Love

无爱之性

How do they do it, the ones who make love 
without love? Beautiful as dancers, 
gliding over each other like ice-skaters 
over the ice, fingers hooked 
inside each other's bodies, faces 
red as steak, wine, wet as the 
children at birth whose mothers are going to 
give them away. How do they come to the 
come to the come to the God come to the 
still waters, and not love 
the one who came there with them, light 
rising slowly as steam off their joined 
skin? These are the true religious, 
the purists, the pros, the ones who will not 
accept a false Messiah, love the 
priest instead of the God. They do not 
mistake the lover for their own pleasure, 
they are like great runners: they know they are alone 
with the road surface, the cold, the wind, 
the fit of their shoes, their over-all cardio- 
vascular health--just factors, like the partner 
in the bed, and not the truth, which is the 
single body alone in the universe 
against its own best time.
			

他们是怎样做的，那些做爱
不用爱的人？像舞者一样优美，
像滑冰者一样彼此滑动
在冰之上，手指钩挂住
彼此的身体，面容
红如牛排，葡萄酒，湿润如
刚出生的婴儿，母亲正要
生下他们。他们怎样到达
那种到达到达上帝到达
静止的水，而不爱
那些同他们一起到达的人，光线
慢慢上升就象热流退出他们曾联结的
皮肤？那是真正的宗教，
最纯，最正，那些不愿
接受一个错误救世主的人们，爱
牧师而不是上帝。他们不会
因为快感而认错情人，
他们像那些伟大的奔跑者：他们知道自己是孤独的
与路面为伍，那些寒冷，那些风，
他们鞋子的适合度，他们全面的
心血管健康――只是些因素，像那些床上的
伴侣，不是真相，真相是
宇宙中一具孤独的身体
傍着它最好的时光。
			

First Thanksgiving

第一个感恩节

                           
When she comes back, from college, I will see
the skin of her upper arms, cool, 
matte, glossy. She will hug me, my old 
soupy chest against her breasts,
I will smell her hair! She will sleep in this apartment, 
her sleep like an untamed, good object, like a 
soul in a body. She came into my life the
second great arrival, fresh
from the other world — which lay, from within him, 
within me. Those nights, I fed her to sleep,
week after week, the moon rising, 
and setting, and waxing — whirling, over the months, 
in a steady blur, around our planet.
Now she doesn't need love like that, she has 
had it. She will walk in glowing, we will talk, 
and then, when she's fast asleep, I'll exult
to have her in that room again,
behind that door! As a child, I caught
bees, by the wings, and held them, some seconds,
looked into their wild faces,
listened to them sing, 
then tossed them back
into the air — I remember the moment the
arc of my toss swerved, and they entered
the corrected curve of their departure.
			

当她从大学，回来，我会看到
她上臂的肤色，沁凉，
粗造，光亮。她会拥抱我，我经年的
伤感的胸膛贴着她的胸，
我会闻她的头发！她会睡在这个公寓，
她的睡眠象个未驯服的好物体，像个
体内的灵魂。她曾经走进我的生命
第二次重大地到来，鲜活
从另一个世界――产出，从他的内部，
我的内部。那些夜晚，我喂她入睡，
一周又一周，月亮升起，
又下降，上蜡――旋转，那些月份，
在一种稳固的模糊中，环绕着我们的星球。
现在她不需要这样的爱，她有
过它了。她会容光焕发地行走，我们会交谈，
而后，当她很快熟睡，我会欢欣鼓舞
因为这个房间又盛着她，
在那扇门之后！小时候，我捉到
些蜜蜂，从翅膀处，拿起他们，几秒钟之间，
看到他们野性的脸，
听到他们歌唱，
随后就把它们扔回
空中――我记得那个瞬间
我抛掷的弧线突然转向，然后他们进入
启程远去的正确轨道。