安·米凯尔斯（Anne Michaels）生于1958年，是当代加拿大著名诗人和小说家。1986年第一部诗集《橘子的重量》获得了联邦文学奖，1991年的第二部诗集《矿工池》获得了包括加拿大总督奖在内的多项大奖。1999年出版诗集《无氧潜水者》，完成了诗集三部曲。2013年她出版了诗集《通信》，这是一首长篇挽歌，哀悼诸多二十世纪诗人如策兰、茨维塔耶娃、等人，并与他们互文对话，形成一种互文文本，整本书是折叠式的，而诗篇也不分开始结尾，可随便从何处开始顺着或倒着阅读；这本诗集进入了格里芬诗歌奖短名单。2017年她出版了诗集《我们看见的一切》进入加拿大犹太文学奖短名单。 安·米凯尔斯（Anne Michaels, 1958-） 《某地，夜色在沉降》 某个地方，夜色在沉降 某个地方，一个人站在教堂外苦涩得无法走进去，却又被怀疑束缚在那里 某个地方，一个女人用清水装满一只杯子花啜饮最后的时光在田野上的最后一丝光中 某个地方，一个孩子站在沙漠中的墙边 某个地方有一座房子，挂着贝多芬肖像一个孩子想知道那肖像是不是她外公 某个地方一个男孩正在学习等待 某个地方，为了他的孩子，一个男人写他看到的事 某个地方，为了他的孩子，一个男人不写他所看到的事 某个地方，一个儿子记得他爸爸轻拍他的背，给他勇气 某个地方，一位母亲在她儿子的葬礼上给成千上万的哀悼者以勇气 某个地方，有个男人把监狱的尺寸测量得非常准确 某个地方，有个女人在监狱前栽种出一个花园 某个地方，成千上万的人站在曾经很空的广场上 某个地方，一个洞穴由一把火炬照亮 某个地方，有个人在我们身边走，在雨中没戴帽子 某个地方，有个人读了一封信，然后小心地叠起来放进心里 某个地方，有个人为他的发现而哭泣 某个地方，在巴黎和伦敦之间，一个男人正在火车上剥橘子皮 某个地方，一个男在火车站等人上颚粘着咖啡香 某个地方，一个男人在城中等待一个等待他的女人等他 某个地方，一个男人伸出帮助的手，而我们还不知道我们需要帮助 某个地方，有一个房间在黑夜降临后只被一幅画照亮 某个地方，有个男人不怕生活在一个女人的希望中 某个地方，有一个人什么都没有忘记并且已经都写了下来 某个地方，有人离你那么近，已看不清细节 某个地方，一个女人的天赋没有随丧失加深反而被丧失败坏 某个地方，有个男人把一切都捐献出去站在雨中，满心感恩 某个地方，死者留下标志 某个地方，有个男人在里斯本遇见了他已故的母亲 某个地方，有个男人为整村人做汤 某个地方，有个男人告诉一个女人她并不像她想象的那样孤独，而她理解她就是那样孤独 某个地方，有个男人记得有一件蓝衬衫忘了带走那是四十年前 某个地方，有个男人在照片的背面题字签上一个他们出生二十年前的日期 某个地方，有一个画家拿着一个多余的鸡蛋 某个地方有一个人开车离开集市他的标致车后座上有几笼未卖出去的小鸡 某个地方，有个女人停车加油，成千上万只白色折纸鸟贴着车窗 某个地方，高速公路的路肩上，有个男人在他死前不久打开他小货车后门向一个女人展示他的画作，都是对她身体的想象她的肌肤如何紧贴他的心灵 某个地方，有个女人在夜里醒来，知道不会有人为她写诗 某个地方，有个男人用勇气回应勇气 某个地方，有个男人奋起抗争却不为任何事情 某个地方，有个男人在森林中挖好了自己的坟墓等死 某个地方，有个男人造了一间屋子，等着在里面孕育孩子 某个地方，一男一女在房椽子上留下一张纸条 某个地方，一男一女为了击退威胁将它挡在门外 某个地方，有个男人想知道那些男人与这个女人就这样的睡了多少个千年 某个地方，一个女人没有解开系在颈项上的结就从围巾中滑出来 某个地方，有个男人写到那条围巾以及那拳头似的结打在他的背上 某个地方，天正在落雨 某个地方，有个男人在一个字一个字地修改黑夜 某个地方，有个男人发送了一条信息“写出之前先说出” 某个地方夜色在沉降 选自《我们看见的一切》 诗集《我们看见过的一切》 Somewhere Night Is Falling Somewhere night is falling Somewhere a man stands outside a churchtoo bitter to enter, yet boundby doubt to that place Somewhere a woman fills a glass with clear waterand flowers drink their last momentsin the last light of the fields Somewhere a child stands nextto a wall in the desert Somewhere there is a house witha portrait of Beethovenand a child who wonders if itis a picture of her grandfather Somewhere there is a boy learning to wait Somewhere, for the sake of his children, a manwrites what he has seen Somewhere, for the sake of his children, a manwill not write what he has seen Somewhere there is a son with the memory of a father’stouch on his back, giving him courage Somewhere a mother gives courage to thousands ofmourners at her son’s funeral Somewhere a man measures the dimensions of the prison precisely Somewhere a woman plants a garden in front of the prison Somewhere thousands stand where oncethe square was empty Somewhere a cave is lit by a torch Somewhere there is man who walks beside uswithout a hat, in the rain Somewhere a man reads a letter and folds it carefully into his heart Somewhere a man weeps for what he has found Somewhere between Paris and London, a man peelsan orange on the train Somewhere a man waits in a train station with the taste ofcoffee on his palate Somewhere a man waits in a city for a woman who waits for him Somewhere a man holds out his hand before we knowwe need it Somewhere there is a room lit only by a paintingas night falls Somewhere there is a man who is not afraid to livein a woman’s hope Somewhere there is a man who has not forgotten anythingand has written it down Somewhere there is someone so close to you, there are no details Somewhere a woman’s gift has not been deepened butcorrupted by loss Somewhere there is a man who has given away everythingand stands in the rain, grateful Somewhere the dead are leaving a sign Somewhere there is a man who meets his late mother in Lisbon Somewhere a man makes soup for the village Somewhere a man tells a woman she is notas alone as she thinks and she understandsshe is precisely as alone Somewhere a man remembers a blue shirt left behindforty years before Somewhere a man inscribes the back of a photographand dates it twenty years before either of themwere born Somewhere there is a painter carrying a spare egg Somewhere there is a man driving away fromthe marketplace with cages of unsold chicksin the back seat of his Peugeot Somewhere a woman stops for petrol, thousands of whiteorigami birds pressed against the car windows Somewhere on the shoulder of the highway, not longbefore he dies, a man opens the hatch of his truck andshows a woman his paintings, all imaginings of her body,how her skin feels against his mind Somewhere a woman wakes in the night and knowsno one will ever write a poem for her Somewhere a man answers courage with courage Somewhere a man fights for nothing Somewhere a man digs his own grave in the forest and waits Somewhere a man builds the room where his child will be conceived Somewhere a man and a woman leave a note in the rafters Somewhere a man and a woman leave the threatoutside the door in order to defeat it Somewhere a man wonders how many thousands of yearsmen have lain with a womanjust this way Somewhere a woman slips off her scarf without untyingthe knot at her nape Somewhere a man writes of that scarfand the fist of the knot against his back Somewhere rain is falling Somewhere a man is repairing the night, one word at a time Somewhere a man sends a message “spokenbefore hands ever wrote” Somewhere night is falling
