〈當我想及〉 羅伯特·克里利（試譯：淺白）
當我想及，我是來自哪裏
或是試着去將那些地方
衡量成某種距離，一切
各色人等，以及那所有
我所記得它們的形式──這樣
哪怕是我觸到的膚，或它本來
就是我自己，在裏面，能像牆洞般
看出來──或傾聽，那定然是的，裏面
正發生着甚麼，即使其時我仍
太蠢去懂得它任何底蘊──當我想起
那一里接着一里的道路，餐食，
甚而電話線，或甚至是水
傾溢，以無盡的細流，泛過一痕痕
黝黑的天空，或洗淨了的沙泥路，
或無數的、鹹味的淚而突然間，又是
春天了，或曾是吧──甚至當我再想到
那一切我未曾好好善待過的：名字、
地方……它們徒然地在雨中等着我，而我
從沒來過，從沒真正在那裏在過──
總是移動着，如此混亂、迅疾、導向明確
──像輛車，在某空蕩的公路上過越、
過越了別的車──當我嘗試去想及
事物，發生了甚麼，生命究是何物，
或曾是何物，我的一生，當我去想它意味甚麼，
悲傷的日子過逝，那持續的、回響着的死亡，
所有令人痛苦的、好鬥的新聞，而狗
仍待餵，妳睡着的那種近，聲音，
存有，發自孩童，我們那些已長大的孩童，
那閃忽、明亮的日光，剛先的空氣氣味，
每一有形的片刻，過逝、過逝……那正是
它一直或從來都是的，就在那一刻，那裏。
8/11/2026初稿
9/11/2026二稿
When I think
By Robert Creeley (from his 2006 collection On Earth)
When I think of where I’ve come from
or even try to measure as any kind of
distance those places, all the various
people, and all the ways in which I re-
member them, so that even the skin I
touched or was myself fact of, inside,
could see through like a hole in the wall
or listen to, it must have been, to what
was going on in there, even if I was still
too dumb to know anything—When I think
of the miles and miles of roads, of meals,
of telephone wires even, or even of water
poured out in endless streams down streaks
of black sky or the dirt roads washed clean,
or myriad, salty tears and suddenly it’s spring
again, or it was—Even when I think again of
all those I treated so poorly, names, places,
their waiting uselessly for me in the rain and
I never came, was never really there at all,
was moving so confusedly, so fast, so driven
like a car along some empty highway passing,
passing other cars—When I try to think of
things, of what’s happened, of what a life is
and was, my life, when I wonder what it meant,
the sad days passing, the continuing, echoing deaths,
all the painful, belligerent news, and the dog still
waiting to be fed, the closeness of you sleeping, voices,
presences, of children, of our own grown children,
the shining, bright sun, the smell of the air just now,
each physical moment, passing, passing, it’s what
it always is or ever was, just then, just there.
當我想及，我是來自哪裏
或是試着去將那些地方
衡量成某種距離，一切
各色人等，以及那所有
我所記得它們的形式──這樣
哪怕是我觸到的膚，或它本來
就是我自己，在裏面，能像牆洞般
看出來──或傾聽，那定然是的，裏面
正發生着甚麼，即使其時我仍
太蠢去懂得它任何底蘊──當我想起
那一里接着一里的道路，餐食，
甚而電話線，或甚至是水
傾溢，以無盡的細流，泛過一痕痕
黝黑的天空，或洗淨了的沙泥路，
或無數的、鹹味的淚而突然間，又是
春天了，或曾是吧──甚至當我再想到
那一切我未曾好好善待過的：名字、
地方……它們徒然地在雨中等着我，而我
從沒來過，從沒真正在那裏在過──
總是移動着，如此混亂、迅疾、導向明確
──像輛車，在某空蕩的公路上過越、
過越了別的車──當我嘗試去想及
事物，發生了甚麼，生命究是何物，
或曾是何物，我的一生，當我去想它意味甚麼，
悲傷的日子過逝，那持續的、回響着的死亡，
所有令人痛苦的、好鬥的新聞，而狗
仍待餵，妳睡着的那種近，聲音，
存有，發自孩童，我們那些已長大的孩童，
那閃忽、明亮的日光，剛先的空氣氣味，
每一有形的片刻，過逝、過逝……那正是
它一直或從來都是的，就在那一刻，那裏。
8/11/2026初稿
9/11/2026二稿
When I think
By Robert Creeley (from his 2006 collection On Earth)
When I think of where I’ve come from
or even try to measure as any kind of
distance those places, all the various
people, and all the ways in which I re-
member them, so that even the skin I
touched or was myself fact of, inside,
could see through like a hole in the wall
or listen to, it must have been, to what
was going on in there, even if I was still
too dumb to know anything—When I think
of the miles and miles of roads, of meals,
of telephone wires even, or even of water
poured out in endless streams down streaks
of black sky or the dirt roads washed clean,
or myriad, salty tears and suddenly it’s spring
again, or it was—Even when I think again of
all those I treated so poorly, names, places,
their waiting uselessly for me in the rain and
I never came, was never really there at all,
was moving so confusedly, so fast, so driven
like a car along some empty highway passing,
passing other cars—When I try to think of
things, of what’s happened, of what a life is
and was, my life, when I wonder what it meant,
the sad days passing, the continuing, echoing deaths,
all the painful, belligerent news, and the dog still
waiting to be fed, the closeness of you sleeping, voices,
presences, of children, of our own grown children,
the shining, bright sun, the smell of the air just now,
each physical moment, passing, passing, it’s what
it always is or ever was, just then, just there.
