paul celan：winter

paul celan：白杨树

Paul Celan - Deathfugue
Black milk of daybreak we drink it at evening
　　　　　　we drink it at midday and morning we drink it at night
　　　　　　we drink and we drink
　　　　　　we shovel a grave in the air there you won't lie too cramped
　　　　　　A man lives in the house he plays with his vipers he writes
　　　　　　he writes when it grows dark to Deutschland your golden hair Margareta
　　　　　　he writes it and steps out of doors and the stars are all sparkling, he whistles his hounds to come close
　　　　　　he whistles his Jews into rows has them shovel a grave in the ground
　　　　　　he commands us to play up for the dance.
　　　　　　Black milk of daybreak we drink you at night
　　　　　　we drink you at morning and midday we drink you at evening
　　　　　　we drink and we drink
　　　　　　A man lives in the house he plays with his vipers he writes
　　　　　　he writes when it grows dark to Deutschland your golden hair Margareta
　　　　　　Your ashen hair Shulamith we shovel a grave in the air there you won't lie too cramped

He shouts jab the earth deeper you lot there you others sing up and play
　　　　　　he grabs for the rod in his belt he swings it his eyes are so blue
　　　　　　jab your spades deeper you lot there you others play on for the dancing
　　　　　　Black milk of daybreak we drink you at night
　　　　　　we drink you at midday and morning we drink you at evening
　　　　　　we drink and we drink
　　　　　　a man lives in the house your goldenes Haar Margareta
　　　　　　your aschenes Haar Shulamith he plays his vipers
　　　　　　He shouts play death more sweetly this Death is a master from Deutschland
　　　　　　he shouts scrape your strings darker you'll rise then as smoke to the sky
　　　　　　you'll have a grave then in the clouds there you won't lie too cramped
　　　　　　Black milk of daybreak we drink you at night
　　　　　　we drink you at midday Death is a master aus Deutschland
　　　　　　we drink you at evening and morning we drink and we drink
　　　　　　this Death is ein Meister aus Deutschland his eye it is blue
　　　　　　he shoots you with shot made of lead shoots you level and true
　　　　　　a man lives in the house your goldenes Haar Margarete
　　　　　　he looses his hounds on us grants us a grave in the air
　　　　　　he plays with his vipers and daydreams der Tod ist ein Meister aus Deutschland
dein goldenes Haar Margarete
　　　　　　dein aschenes Haar Shulamith

狂野的诗，晦而
不明，在纯粹的
匆匆诵读的血迹前。
每一个没有黎明的白日，
每一个白日就是它的黎明，
万物
在场，空无
标记。