阿米亥《人的一生》
1
A man doesn’t have time in his life
He doesn’t have seasons enough to have
a season for every purpose. Ecclesiastes
A man needs to love and to hate at the same moment,
to laugh and cry with the same eyes,
with the same hands to throw stones and to gather them,
to make love in war and war in love.
And to hate and forgive and remember and forget,
to arrange and confuse, to eat and to digest
When he loses he seeks, when he finds
he forgets, when he forgets he loves, when he loves
And his soul is seasoned, his soul
an amateur. It tries and it misses,
gets muddled, doesn’t learn a thing,
drunk and blind in its pleasures
He will die as figs die in autumn,
Shriveled and full of himself and sweet,
the leaves growing dry on the ground,
the bare branches pointing to the place
where there’s time for everything.