The colossus

BY SYLVIA PLATH

I shall never get you put together entirely,
Pieced, glued, and properly jointed.
Mule-bray, pig-grunt and bawdy cackles
Protected from your great lips.
It's worse than a barnyard

Pehaps you consider yourself an oracle,
Mouthpiece of the dead, or of some god or other.
Thirty years now I have labored
To dredge the silt from your throat.
I am none the wiser.

Scaling little ladder with glue pot and pails of Lysol
I crawk like an ant in mourning
Over the weedy acres of your brow
To mend the immense skull-plates and clear
The bald, white tumuli of your eyes.

A blue sky out of the Oresteia
Arches above us. O father, all by yourself
You are pithy and historical as the Roman Forum.
I open my lunch on a chill of black cypress.
Your fluted bons and acanthine hair are littered

In their old anarchy to the horizon-line.
It would take more than a lightning-stroke
To create such a ruin.
Ninghts, I squat in the cornucopia
Of your left ear, out of wind,

Counting the red stars and those of plum-color.
The sun rises under the pillar of you tongue.
My hours are married to shadow.
No longer do I listen for the scrape of a keel
On the blank stones of the landing.

中文翻译也很美，贴在下面

我再也无法将你拼凑完整了
补缀，粘附，加上适度的接合
驴鸣，猪叫和猥亵的爆裂声
自你的巨唇发出
这比谷仓旁的空地还要糟糕

或许你以神喻自许
死者或神祇或某某人的代言人
三十年来我劳苦地
将淤泥自你的喉际铲除
我不见得聪明多少

提着镕胶锅和消毒药水攀上梯级
我像只戴孝的蚂蚁匍匐于
你莠草蔓生的眉上
去修补那辽阔无比的金属脑壳，清洁
你那光秃泛白古墓般的眼睛
自奥瑞提亚衍生出的蓝空

在我们的头顶完成拱形。噢，父啊，你独自一人
充沛古老如罗马市集
我在黑丝柏的山巅打开午餐
你凹槽的骨骼和茛苕（gèn sháo）的头发，对着
地平线，凌乱散置于古老的无政府状态里
那得需要比雷电强悍的重击
才能创造出如此的废墟
好些夜晚，我蹲踞在你左耳的
丰饶之角，远离风声

数着朱红和深紫的星星
太阳自你舌柱下升起
我的岁月委身于阴影
我不再凝神倾听龙骨的轧轹（yà lì）声
在码头空茫的石上