窗外的景色

（R.S.托马斯/作，张文武/译）

如一幅画般摆在人的面前，
然而不如画那样易碎，它是永恒的；这些颜色
每天都在更新，因为光，和那任何画家都无法企及
无法想像出的距离。接着，有活动和变化，
就像阳光治愈青肿的乌云，或者雪
将黑色的心情覆盖掉一样缓慢；然而傍晚
有振奋心灵的金色。在整个历史的进程中，
巨大的刷子从未停息过，
画从未干过；而眼睛，在冷静观望时，
或者，就像我们现在这样，
在透过泪水的透镜观望时，从这幅
还没有完成的作品中看到了什么？

The View from the Window

Like a painting it is set before one,
But less brittle, ageless; these colours
Are renewed daily with variations
Of light and distance that no painter
Achieves or suggests.  Then there is movement,
Change, as slowly the cloud bruises
Are healed by sunlight, or snow caps
A black mood; but gold at evening
To cheer the heart.  All through history
The great brush has not rested,
Nor the paint dried; yet what eye,
Looking coolly, or, as we now,
through the tears' lenses, ever saw
This work and it was not finished?