侏儒之歌

我的灵魂本身可能是笔直的完好的

可是我的心 我佝偻的血管

还有所有的那些深深伤害着我内心的 变形

我的灵魂在这一切下屈服

没有花园 没有阳光

它在我扭曲的骨架上悬挂

惊恐地拍打着翅膀

我的手也毫无是处， 你看

它们是多么的萎缩和奇形怪状

笨拙地抽搐着，潮腻，臃肿

像是雨后的蟾蜍

而我身上其他的东西 也都破败不堪

悲哀的 饱经风霜的 破损的

为什么造物主会犹豫将这一切丢弃 

冲进下水道？

是不是因为他看到那张脸而愤怒

我的那张阴沉抑郁的嘴脸？

我的灵魂常常翘首以待 奢望着

自上而下的 清晰和轻盈

可是有谁会这么近地贴靠过来呢

除了那些大狗们

而狗身上没有我所需要的

～～～～～～～～～～～～～～～～～

THE DWARF’S SONG

My soul itself may be straight and good;

ah, but my heart, my bent-over blood,

all the distortions that hurt me inside—

it buckles under these things.

It has no garden, it has no sun,

it hangs on my twisted skeleton

and, terrified, flaps its wings.

Nor are my hands of much use. Look here:

see how shrunken and shapeless they are:

clumsily hopping, clammy and fat,

like toads after the rain.

And everything else about me is torn,

sad and weather-beaten and worn;

why did God ever hesitate

to flush it all down the drain?

Is it because he’s angry at me

for my face with its moping lips?

It was so often ready to be

light and clear in its depths;

but nothing came so close to it

as big dogs did.

And dogs don’t have what I need.

(The Selected Poetry of Rainer Maria Rilke, Edited and Translated by Stephen MitchellFROM  The Book of Pictures (1902 ;1906))