Elegy for a Dead Soldier

Elegy for a Dead Soldier

           by Karl Shapiro

I

A white sheet on the tail-gate of a truck
becomes an altar; two small candlesticks
sputter at each side of the crucifix
Laid round with flowers brighter than the blood,
Red as the red of our apocalypse,
Hibiscus that a marching man will pluck
To stick into his rifle or his hat,
And great blue morning-glories pale as lips
That shall no longer taste or kiss or swear.
The wind begins a low magnificat,
The chaplain chats, the palmtrees swirl their hair,
The columns come together through the mud

II

We too are ashes as we watch and hear
The psalm, the sorrow, and the simple praise
Of one whose promised thoughts of other days
Were such as ours, but now wholly destroyed,
The service record of his youth wiped out,
His dream dispersed by shot, must disappear.
What can we feel but wonder at a loss
That seems to point at nothing but the doubt
Which flirts our sense of luck into the ditch?
Reader of Paul who prays beside this fosse,
Shall we believe our eyes or legends rich
With glory and rebirth beyond the void?

III

For this comrade is dead, dead in the war,
A young man out of millions yet to live,
One cut away from all that war can give,
Freedom of self and peace to wander free.
Who mourns in all this sober multitude
Who did not feel the bite of it before
The bullet found its aim? This worthy flesh,
This boy laid in a coffin and reviewed－
Who has not wrapped himself in this same flag,
Heard the light fall of dirt, his wound still fresh,
Felt his eyes closed, and heard the distant brag
Of the last volley of humanity?

IV

By chance I saw him die, stretched on the ground,
A tattooed arm lifted to take the blood
Of someone else sealed in a tin. I stood
During the last delirium that stays
The intelligence a tiny moment more,
And then the strangulation, the last sound
The end was sudden, like a foolish play,
A stupid fool slamming a foolish door,
The absurd catastrophe, half-prearranged,
And all the decisive things still left to say.
So we disbanded, angrier and unchanged,
Sick with the utter silence of dispraise.

V

We ask for no statistics of the killed,
For nothing political impinges on
This single casualty, or all those gone,
Missing or healing, sinking or dispersed,
Hundreds of thousands counted, millions lost.
More than an accident and less than willed
Is every fall, and this one like the rest.
However others calculate the cost,
To us the final aggregate is one,
One with a name, one transferred to the blest;
And though another stoops and takes the gun,
We cannot add the second to the first.

XI

The time to mourn is short that best becomes
The military dead. We lift and fold the flag,
Lay bare the coffin with its written tag,
And march away. Behind, four others wait
To lift the box, the heaviest of loads.
The anesthetic afternoon benumbs,
Sickens our senses, forces back our talk.
We know that others on tomorrow's roads
Will fall, ourselves perhaps, the man beside,
Over the world the threatened, all who walk:
And could we mark the grave of him who died
We would write this beneath his name and date:

Epitaph
Underneath this wooden cross there lies
A Christian killed in battle. You who read,
Remember that this stranger died in pain;
And passing here, if you can lift your eyes
Upon a peace kept by a human creed,
Know that one soldier has not died in vain.

为一名士兵唱的挽歌

      卡尔•夏皮罗

一
一辆卡车的后档板覆盖着一块白布，
权充祭坛；两支蜡烛
毕剥燃在十字架两旁
四周撤满花朵，比血色更鲜，
比我们的啓示录更红，
木槿花，一个行军者会把它摘下
插在步枪或帽子上；
大大的蓝色牵牛花，顔色苍白
像不能再品味、接吻或发誓的嘴唇。
风儿开始低声唱起颂主诗歌，
牧师说着话，棕搁树旋动自己的头发，
一支支队伍踏过泥泞来此汇拢。

二
我们也是灰烬，当我们观看和聆听
圣歌、悲哀和朴素的赞词
献给一个人，他对未来的憧憬
与我们一样，但如今已完全破灭，
他用青春谱写的服役履历一笔了清，
他的美梦被枪声驱散，毫无踪影。
我们能感到的只是对阵亡的震惊，
它似乎恰恰表明怀疑，
而疑虑把我们的侥幸之心扔进沟渠。
站在这壕坑边祈祷的保罗的读经师，
我们该相信自己的眼睛呢，还是相信
虚空之外敍述荣耀和新生的传奇？

三
因爲这位战友已经死了，在战火中死去，
一个年轻人，他的千百万同龄人仍然活着，
这个人脱离了战争所给予的一切，
自由自在，飘飘悠悠。
谁在这肃穆的人群中哀悼亡灵
这些人在子弹射中目标以前
并不感到痛切?这可敬的血肉之躯，
这小伙子躺在棺材中沈思──
有谁尚未用同样的旗帜包裹自己，
听见尘土轻轻落下，伤口仍在流血，
感到双眼紧闭，听到远处传来
人间最后一阵炮火齐鸣？

四
我碰巧目睹他死去，四肢伸展仰卧在地，
刺有花纹的手臂拾起
接受另一个人的血从封罐注入他身体。我站立
眼看临终前的神志昏迷
让他的灵魂再弥留一时半刻，
接着呼吸停止，发出最后一声喘息。
生命的结束如此突然，就像一出荒诞的戏，
一个傻子砰地关上－扇可笑的门，
荒谬的结局，仿佛预先排定，
所有关键性的台词尚待说及。
于是我们解散，没有变化，更加愤怒，
对无人谴责一片沈寂感到恶心。

五
我们不要阵亡人数统计，
因爲这些没有任何政治意义：
这一阵亡者或一切阵亡者，
失踪或养伤，倒下或溃退，
几十万人记录在册，几百万人毫无消息。
与其说出于自愿，不如说是偶然事故
造成每一例阵亡，这一战死者与其它战死者一样。
不论别人怎样计算付出的代价，
对我们而言最终归结爲一，
一个有名有姓的人，一个被送进天堂的人；
虽然另一人俯身拿起枪，
我们不能将第二人加到第一人身上。

六
哀悼的时间短促，这最适合于
牺牲的军人。我们揭去旗，将它折起，
让带着标签的棺木裸现，
我们缓缓走开。在我们身后，另四个人等着
擡起灵柩，最沉重的负载。
沈闷的下午令人生厌，
使我们感官麻木，欲语还休。
我们知道在明天的征途上
其它的人将倒下，也许是我们自己，身旁的人
全世界受到威胁的人，一切行进的人：
倘若我们能爲这一死者立碑，
我们将在他的名字和死期下书写：

墓志铭
在这本质十字架下安卧着
一个战死的基督徒。请你记住，
这陌生人在痛苦中死去；
当你路过此地，放眼看看
由人类教义维护的和平景象？
你便懂得一名士兵并没有枉然捐躯。

卡尔•夏皮罗 简介