by Thom Gunn
The snail pushes through a green
night, for the grass is heavy
with water and meets over
the bright path he makes, where rain
has darkened the earth's dark. He
moves in a wood of desire,
pale antlers barely stirring
as he hunts. I cannot tell
what power is at work, drenched there
with purpose, knowing nothing.
What is a snail's fury? All
I think is that if later
I parted the blades above
the tunnel and saw the thin
trail of broken white across
litter, I would never have
imagined the slow passion
to that deliberate progress.
蝸牛感懷
蝸牛用觸角推進(jìn)墨綠色的
夜晚，因?yàn)椴萑~上濕漉漉
沾滿(mǎn)水珠，耷拉著交織在
它推出的明亮小徑，雨在上面
使大地的昏暗更加昏暗。它
在欲望之林中緩緩蠕動(dòng)。
它捕食時(shí)，蒼白的觸角
幾乎不動(dòng)。我無(wú)法說(shuō)出
什么力量起作用，在那里
浸透于百思不解的思緒中。
蝸牛的憤懣何在?我僅僅
這樣遐想：即使稍后一些時(shí)候
我撥開(kāi)蝸牛爬過(guò)的路上的葉片，
但見(jiàn)它留下的細(xì)細(xì)痕跡
粘著破碎的白色微粒，穿過(guò)
垃圾碎屑，那我也難以想像
伴隨它從容前進(jìn)的
徐遲緩慢的激情。
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