浮标  林木译
 
在华盛顿州万吉特附近的哥伦比亚河上，
我们在冬天的月份里钓白鱼；我爸、瑞典人——
林德格伦先生——还有我。他们使用腹轮，
铅笔长度的坠子，红色，黄色，或棕色的
飞虫钩以蛆作饵。
他们追求距离，远远地抛出线
直到激流的边缘。
我则用羽毛浮标和竹竿在岸边垂钓。
 
我爸把蛆放在下嘴唇以确保它们
活着和温暖。林德格伦先生不喝酒。
相较于我爸我一度更喜欢他。
他让我驾驶他的车，拿我的名字“小”开玩笑，还说
总有一天我会长成一个很棒的男人，记住
这一切，并且和自己的儿子一起钓鱼。
但我爸是对的。我的意思是
他保持沉默，凝视着河流，
他在饵料背后动着舌头，仿佛在思考。
 
Bobber
by Raymond Carver
 
On the Columbia River near Vantage,
Washington, we fished for whitefish
in the winter months; my dad, Swede-
Mr. Lindgren-and me.  They used belly-reels,
pencil-length sinkers, red, yellow, or brown
flies baited with maggots.
They wanted distance and went clear out there
to the edge of the riffle.
I fished near shore with a quill bobber and a cane pole.
 
My dad kept his maggots alive and warm
under his lower lip.  Mr. Lindgren didn't drink.
I liked him better than my dad for a time.
He lets me steer his car, teased me
about my name "Junior," and said
one day I'd grow into a fine man, remember
all this, and fish with my own son.
But my dad was right.  I mean
he kept silent and looked into the river,
worked his tongue, like a thought, behind the bait.