I see the boys of summer

I

I see the boys of summer in their ruin

Lay the gold tithings barren,

Setting no store by harvest, freeze the soils;

There in their heat the winter floods

Of frozen loves they fetch their girls,

And drown the cargoed apples in their tides.

These boys of light are curdlers in their folly,

Sour the boiling honey;

The jacks of frost they finger in the hives;

There in the sun the frigid threads

Of doubt and dark they feed their nerves;

The signal moon is zero in their voids.

I see the summer children in their mothers

Split up the brawned womb's weathers,

Divide the night and day with fairy thumbs;

There in the deep with quartered shades

Of sun and moon they paint their dams

As sunlight paints the shelling of their heads.

I see that from these boys shall men of nothing

Stature by seedy shifting,

Or lame the air with leaping from its heats;

There from their hearts the dogdayed pulse

Of love and light bursts in their throats.

O see the pulse of summer in the ice.

II

But seasons must be challenged or they totter

Into a chiming quarter

Where, punctual as death, we ring the stars;

There, in his night, the black-tongued bells

The sleepy man of winter pulls,

Nor blows back moon-and-midnight as she blows.

We are the dark deniers, let us summon

Death from a summer woman,

A muscling life from lovers in their cramp,

From the fair dead who flush the sea

The bright-eyed worm on Davy's lamp,

And from the planted womb the man of straw.

We summer boys in this four-winded spinning,

Green of the seaweeds' iron,

Hold up the noisy sea and drop her birds,

Pick the world's ball of wave and froth

To choke the deserts with her tides,

And comb the county gardens for a wreath.

In spring we cross our foreheads with the holly,

Heigh ho the blood and berry,

And nail the merry squires to the trees;

Here love's damp muscle dries and dies,

Here break a kiss in no love's quarry.

O see the poles of promise in the boys.

III

I see you boys of summer in your ruin.

Man in his maggot's barren.

And boys are full and foreign in the pouch.

I am the man your father was.

We are the sons of flint and pitch.

O see the poles are kissing as they cross.

我看见夏日的男孩

1

我看见夏日的男孩在毁灭

金色的家园无比荒凉，

沃土冻结，没有一丝的丰盈;

他们携着妙龄少女，

热情融化冬日里冰封的爱情，

他们汹涌的波涛淹没满舱的苹果。

这些光的男孩，累积几多的荒唐，

搅酸沸滚的蜂蜜;

他们在蜂巢里拨弄严寒的霜凌;

阳光下几丝寒冷的疑虑和幽暗

养育他们的神经;

一轮信号月消失在虚幻里。

我看见夏日的孩子在母胎中

撕裂强壮子宫的风风雨雨，

神奇的拇指划分出白昼和黑夜;

在日月分割的浓荫深处，

他们涂抹自己的堤坝，

仿佛日光涂抹他们脱落的颅壳。

我看见男孩一个个成了无名之辈，

随种子的变换渐渐成熟，

热情的跳跃或许让空气残缺;

三伏天涌动的阳光和爱情

从心里向喉口骤然迸发。

哦，看那冰雪中夏日的脉动。

2

但是，季节必须接受挑战或坠入

一处钟声齐鸣的地方;

在那儿，我们摇响星星，死亡般准时;

冬日里的男人，昏昏欲睡，

在夜晚，扯动黑舌的丧钟，

女人吹动风，却吹不回午夜的月光。

我们是黑色的反叛者，让我们

从夏日的女人召唤死亡，

从痉挛的情人处，召唤强悍的生命，

从漂浮大海的白净尸体上

召唤戴维神灯上眼睛明亮的蠕虫，

从种植的子宫里召唤稻草人。

我们这群夏日男孩，在呼呼生风的旋转中，

海藻般的铁绿植物，

举起喧嚣的大海，放飞一群群海鸟，

捡拾世上球状的波浪和泡沫，

让潮汐窒息沙漠，

为扎一只花环，梳理乡间的花园。

在春天，我们用冬青枝缠绕前额，

嘿，还有鲜血和浆果，

快乐的乡绅被钉上树干;

湿漉漉的肉肌在此枯干而亡，

热吻在无情的采石场裂成碎片。

哦，看孩子们信誓旦旦的爱情柱。

3

夏日的男孩，我看见你们在毁灭。

男人在蛆虫遍布的荒野。

而男孩的袋囊鼓鼓，非同凡响。

我是男人，你的父亲也是。

我们是燧石和沥青的子孙。

哦，当他们穿过，看爱情柱在亲吻。