ThoseWinter Sundays

by Robert Hayden

请跟英语兔我一起读:

Sundaystoo my father got up early

星期天父亲一如往常起得很早,

And puthis clothes on in the blueblack cold,

黑暗和寒冷中穿好衣服,

then withcracked hands that ached

伸出皲裂的双手

from laborin the weekday weather madebanked fires blaze.

辛苦生好炉火温暖房间。

No oneever thanked him.

却没有得到一句感谢温暖的话。

I'd wakeand hear the cold splintering, breaking.

我被木柴燃烧的爆裂声吵醒。

When therooms were warm, he'd call,

室内温暖了，父亲喊我起床，

and slowlyI would rise and dress,

我不情愿地磨磨蹭蹭穿好衣服，

fearingthe chronic angers of that house,

害怕被父亲堵在被窝里。

Speakingindifferently to him,

我冷冷地不情愿和父亲说着话，

who haddriven out the cold

是父亲驱走了室内的寒冷，

andpolished my good shoes as well.

还把我的皮鞋擦亮。

What did Iknow, what did I know

我了解多少，我懂吗?

of love'saustere and lonely offices?

父亲的爱是多么真挚和深沉。

(译者:韦庄)