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by Thom Gunn

The snail pushes through a green

night, for the grass is heavy

with water and meets over

the bright path he makes, where rain

has darkened the earth's dark. He

moves in a wood of desire,

pale antlers barely stirring

as he hunts. I cannot tell

what power is at work, drenched there

with purpose, knowing nothing.

What is a snail's fury? All

I think is that if later

I parted the blades above

the tunnel and saw the thin

trail of broken white across

litter, I would never have

imagined the slow passion

to that deliberate progress.

蝸牛感懷

蝸牛用觸角推進墨綠色的

夜晚，因為草葉上濕漉漉

沾滿水珠，耷拉著交織在

它推出的明亮小徑，雨在上面

使大地的昏暗更加昏暗。它

在欲望之林中緩緩蠕動。

它捕食時，蒼白的觸角

幾乎不動。我無法說出

什么力量起作用，在那里

浸透于百思不解的思緒中。

蝸牛的憤懣何在?我僅僅

這樣遐想：即使稍后一些時候

我撥開蝸牛爬過的路上的葉片，

但見它留下的細細痕跡

粘著破碎的白色微粒，穿過

垃圾碎屑，那我也難以想像

伴隨它從容前進的

徐遲緩慢的激情。