狗尾草
余光中

总之最后谁也辩不过坟墓
死亡，是唯一的永久地址
譬如吊客散后，殡仪馆的后门
朝南，又怎样？
朝北，又怎样？
那柩车总显出要远行的样子
总之谁也拗不过这桩事情
至于不朽云云
或者仅仅是一种暗语，为了夜行
灵，或者不灵，相信，或者不相信
最后呢谁也不比狗尾草更高
除非名字上升，象星象去看齐
去参加里而克或者李白
此外
一切都留在草下
名字归名字，骷髅归骷髅
星归星，蚯蚓归蚯蚓
夜空下，如果有谁呼唤
上面，有一种光
下面，有一只蟋蟀
隐隐象要回答
 
Green Bristlegrass
Yu Guangzhong
 
Who, after all, can argue with the grave
When death is the only permanent address?
When all the condolers have left,
What if the undertaker’s back door
Faces the south or the north?
The coach looks always ready for exile,
And nonce can dissuade it from the trip.
So-called immortality
May prove nothing but an empty password
For whoever must travel at night,
Even if it works and convinces.
None ends up taller than the bristlgrass
Unless his name soars to the stars
To join Li Bai or Rilke
    while the rest
Is left behind beneath the grass.
Keep names to names, dust to dust,
Stars to stars, earthworms to earthworms.
If a voice calls under the night sky,
Who, indeed, is going to answer
Except a glimmer from above
Or a cricket from below?