米沃什
但是还有书籍
但是书籍还会站在书架上，
此乃真正的存在，
书籍一下子出现，崭新，还有些湿润，
像秋天栗子树下闪闪发光的落果，
受到触摸，爱抚， 开始长时生存，
尽管地平线上有大火，城堡在空中爆破，
部落在远征途中，行星在运行。
“我们永存，”书籍说，
即使书页被撕扯，或者文字被呼啸的火焰舔光。
书籍比我们持久，我们纤弱的体温
会和记忆一起冷却，消散，寂灭。
我常想象没有我的大地： 一如既往，没有损失，依然是大戏台，
女人的时装，挂露珠的丁香花，山谷的歌声。
但是书籍将会竖立在书架，有幸诞生，
来源于人，也源于崇高与光明。
（杨德友 译）
英译本：
And Yet The Books
And yet the books will be there on the shelves, separate beings,
That appeared once, still wet As shining chestnuts under a tree in autumn,
And, touched, coddled, began to live
In spite of fires on the horizon, castles blown up,
Tribes on the march, planets in motion.
“We are, ” they said, even as their pages
Were being torn out, or a buzzing flame
Licked away their letters.
So much more durable
Than we are, whose frail warmth
Cools down with memory, disperses, perishes.
I imagine the earth when I am no more:
Nothing happens, no loss, it’s still a strange pageant,
Women’s dresses, dewy lilacs, a song in the valley.
Yet the books will be there on the shelves, well born,
Derived from people, but also from radiance, heights.
Berkeley, 1986
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