午后时光
日子。心情。人和事
（图片来自网络）
赫塔拉人的坟墓
她们躺在自己的长发里， 棕黄色的脸庞
早已经退缩到了身体的深处
眼睛紧闭 好像是在很远的地方
头骨 嘴 花，嘴巴里面
牙齿闪闪发亮 如一排排袖珍棋子
还是花，黄色的珍珠，细小的手骨
手掌和衣物，腐朽的织物覆盖在
干瘪的心脏上面。但是在那里
那些戒指的下面 在那些护身符 宝石
眼睛一般的蓝宝石 （曾经是恋人的信物）
下面 沉寂的性之穴依然存留
被花瓣填满 直至它的拱顶
又是黄色的珍珠 没有穿起的 散落在那里
烧制的陶土容器 上面曾经画有
她们自己的肖像， 绿色的碎片 曾经是
她们的香水瓶 带着鲜花的芬芳
还有家庭神龛上的家神：
妓院 - 天堂，陶醉中的神灵们
断裂的腰带 雕刻于玉石之上的瘢痕结节
长着巨大生殖器的小人雕像
大笑的嘴 跳舞的女孩 跑步的人，
金色的扣子 看上去像只小小的弓
可以用来射鸟的 - 还有兽形护身符，布满装饰的刀具和匙子，长针
一个圆圆的浅红色锅盖，上面有一个马队 马腿僵直 就像是
墓穴入口处上方的黑暗铭文
还是鲜花， 珍珠颗颗滚落开来
镀金小琴的闪亮侧翼
在如同雾气一般落下的面纱之间，
仿佛从鞋的蛹里爬出来的：
浮于脚踝之上的 精致的苍白的蝴蝶
她们就那样躺在那里 被东西填满
昂贵的东西 珠宝 玩具 器皿
破碎的饰品（有多少东西掉进了它们里面！）
她们逐渐黯淡发乌 如同黑色的河床
因为她们就是那曾经的河床啊
覆在她们之上，在短暂而又急促的波流里
（每一个都试图延长着自己的时间，直至永远）
数不清的青年人的躯体涌现
他们的体内有成年男人的潮动在咆哮
有的时候 男孩们会从童年的山峦中冲出，
在小心翼翼的溪流中深入 于河床上摸索 玩耍
直到那一刻 陡峭的山坡把他们的意识紧紧抓住：
然后，他们用清浅的水流 把宽阔的运河
填满，从这头到那头，细小的漩涡
盘旋而下 直至水的深处
第一次 映照出绿色的河岸 和遥远的鸟鸣--而在天上，
是另一样的星空，一个更甜蜜的领域
在他们的头顶绽放，永远不再关闭
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hetaerae
In ancient Greek society, prostitutes were independent and sometimes influential women who were required to wear distinctive dresses and had to pay taxes. There is evidence that, unlike most other women in Greek society at the time, hetaerae were educated. Some similarities have been found between the ancient Greek Hetaera and the Japanese Geisha, complex figures that are perhaps in an intermediate position between prostitution and courtesans.
(http://www.hellenicaworld.com/Greece/Ancient/en/Hetaera.html)
Hetaira (Wikipedia)
Hetaira /h??ta?r?/ (plural hetairai (/h??ta?ra?/), also hetaera /h??t?r?/ (plural hetaerae /h??t?ri?/), (Ancient Greek: ?τα?ρα, "companion", pl. ?τα?ραι, Latin: hetaera, pl. hetaerae) was a type of prostitute in ancient Greece, who served as an artist, entertainer and talker aside from providing sexual service. Unlike the rule for ancient Greek women, hetairas would be highly educated and were allowed in the symposium.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
TOMBS OF THE HETAERAE
They lie in their long hair, and the brown faces
have long ago withdrawn into themselves.
Eyes shut, as though before too great a distance.
Skeletons, mouths, flowers. Inside the mouths,
the shiny teeth like rows of pocket chessmen.
And flowers, yellow pearls, slender bones,
hands and tunics, woven cloth decaying
over the shriveled heart. But there, beneath
those rings, beneath the talismans and gems
and precious stones like blue eyes (lovers’ keepsakes),
there still remains the silent crypt of sex,
filled to its vaulted roof with flower-petals.
And yellow pearls again, unstrung and scattered,
vessels of fired clay on which their own
portraits once were painted, the green fragments
of perfume jars that smelled like flowers, and images
of little household gods upon their altars:
courtesan-heavens with enraptured gods.
Broken waistbands, scarabs carved in jade,
small statues with enormous genitals,
a laughing mouth, dancing-girls, runners,
golden clasps that look like tiny bows
for shooting bird- and beast-shaped amulets,
ornamented knives and spoons, long needles,
a roundish light-red potsherd upon which
the stiff legs of a team of horses stand
like the dark inscription above an entryway.
And flowers again, pearls that have rolled apart,
the shining flanks of a little gilded lyre;
and in between the veils that fall like mist,
as though it had crept out from the shoe’s chrysalis:
the delicate pale butterfly of the ankle.
And so they lie, filled to the brim with Things,
expensive Things, jewels, toys, utensils,
broken trinkets (how much fell into them!)
and they darken as a river’s bottom darkens.
For they were riverbeds once,
and over them in brief, impetuous waves
(each wanting to prolong itself, forever)
the bodies of countless adolescents surged;
and in them roared the currents of grown men.
And sometimes boys would burst forth from the mountains
of childhood, would descend in timid streams
and play with what they found on the river’s bottom,
until the steep slope gripped their consciousness:
Then they filled, with clear, shallow water,
the whole breadth of this broad canal, and set
little whirlpools turning in the depths,
and for the first time mirrored the green banks
and distant calls of birds—, while in the sky
the starry nights of another, sweeter country
blossomed above them and would never close.
(Translated by Stephen Mitchell)
周末愉快！
哇，这首确实不容易翻啊。图片找得和诗词倒是蛮相配的。