BY BIANCA STONE
或许，人类是自然失败的AI程序
或许，自然造人原本是指望人来照料花园
或许，自然造就的本是一些看起来性感养眼的，
他们会用长长的捕蝶网清理泳池
还带着太阳灼伤后的印记
——全然是自然仆从的模样
可是现在 ——
水银的镜子还有该死的
你口中火红热辣的炸弹
你舌上的甜蜜的战场啊——
人类让你的任务成了一场灾难：
拥有财富的人，
带着他们出众的教养
定制款鞋子
还有空荡荡的寓所
象好女巫Glinda[1]那样飘在空里；
媒体和知识份子，
那些几乎引导着人类进化之旋律的
在他们鬼气森森的图景中沉沉睡去
还有那难以企及的戏魂——
人之所以为人的每个维度
一一失落了
在一个死循环里无处安生。
有时，我希望能被带入虚无之中
我向往与舞毒蛾和朝颜一起被焚烧
与角马群一起狂奔跑直至力竭而亡。
我不想要我的手机，我想要杀死上帝。
或许，人类是自然秩序里的一套复杂系统，
必须在永恒中自我创造造然后自我毁灭。
路旁的蓝色菊苣透露夏末的消息——
在我们经过时造出的一小片沙尘暴中
他们旋转并且微笑
对我们的的设计者而言
我们那微小的功到底算是什么呢？
那深红的血液，那繁复的技术——
对那在天堂跛行的大天使们而言？
NATURE
Maybe humans are the failed A.I. of Nature.
Maybe Nature made something it thought would tend the garden.
Maybe Nature made somthing sexy, to watch
clean the pools with long butterfly nets
and a sunburn-the retainers of Nature.
Now, mirror of mercury and Hell, that hot-red bomb
in your mouth, that sweet battleground on your togue-
it is the catastrophe of your mission.
The wealthy, with their outstanding educations
and custom shoes, and emtpy apartments
floating above like Glinda; the ballad of media,
the intellectuals, alost shepherding
evolution, falling asleep in their haunted paintings
and unattainable poetry-all the dimensions
of each person's being, punk,restless in a loop.
sometimes I want to be taken into nothingless.
I want to be burned with the gypsy moths and bindweed.
Run to exhaustion with the wildbeest.
I don't want this phone, I want to kill God.
Maybe humans are the complex systems
of a natural order that must bulild and destory itself in perpetuity
Blue chicory on the road saying the end of summer
in a sandstorm of our passing-they gyrate and smile-
what of our little duties to the architect?
Our deep-red blood, our lush tech-
Archangels, limping in paradise.
from THE NEW YORKER 2018-10-29
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童话《绿野仙踪》中的北方好女巫 ↩
