Ancestor
Ancestor
by Nan Fry
from The Poet’s Cookbook: Recipes from Germany, Poems by 33 American Poets with German Translations
Deep inside me she remembers hunger.
She rejoices when I make stock—
the chicken already baked and eaten
returned to the pot—ribs ridged
like the roof of a cathedral.
I toss in potato peels, limp carrots,
old celery, herbs so dry they crumble.
Steam rises, more fragrant
than incense, and the long simmer
comforts her as no chant could.
Later I scoop out the bones
and vegetables, all their goodness
gone to broth. Golden,
fat shimmers on the surface,
the only gold she’ll ever know.
For now, it is enough.
Die Ahnin
von Nan Fry
aus The Poet’s Cookbook: Recipes from Germany, Poems by 33 American Poets with German Translations
übersetzt von Sabine Pascarelli
Tief in mir denkt sie an Hunger.
Sie frohlockt, wenn ich Brühe einkoche—
das Huhn, bereits gebraten und verspeist,
wieder im Topf—die Rückenknochen
wie der Dachfirst einer Kathedrale.
Ich werfe Kartoffelschalen hinein, schlaffe Karotten,
alten Sellerie, Kräuter, die vor Trockenheit zerbröseln.
Dampf steigt auf, wohlriechender
als Weihrauch, und das langsame Kochen
tröstet sie, wie kein Choral es könnte.
Später schöpfe ich die Knochen heraus
und die Gemüse, all ihre Güte
nun in der Brühe. Golden
schimmert das Fett auf der Oberfläche,
das einzige Gold, das sie kennt.
Für den Moment ist es genug.
祖先
作者：楠.弗莱
译者：王蕾（乔治梅森大学孔子学院/北京语言大学）
在我身体深处，她忆起了饥饿。
当我开始做鸡汤的时候，她兴奋起来——
早已被烤熟吃净的鸡
重被放入锅中——脊背隆起
如同教堂拱形的穹顶。
我随手放入马铃薯皮，蔫菸的胡萝卜，
枯萎的芹菜和风干易碎的香料。
蒸汽升腾，香味弥浓
远胜芳馨，慢火久炖的浓汤
抚慰着她，任何圣歌都难以企及。
尔后，我舀出鸡骨
以及蔬菜，所有的精华
都融入汤中。金黄色，
漂浮的油脂熠熠发光，
是她心里唯一的金子。
眼下，这已然足够。
About the Poem: Ancestor
Some ancestors live on for us most truly in their recipes for dishes we enjoy. It can be argued that there is more of value for our daily lives in the recipes passed down from mother to daughter, than in the surnames passed along from father to son. Cooking can be a way to honor our ancestors, and perhaps appease them. The “Bon” festival in Japan, or China’s “Feast of the Hungry Ghosts” are celebrations built around the desire to show kindness and concern for those permanently departed from our lives by doing the same thing we often do for living relatives: offering them gifts of food. Nan Fry suggests here that the act of showing respect for an ancestor by using their recipe to create a dish is an equally effective way to please them and to endow the act of remembrance with a concrete form in the present.
About the Poet: Nan Fry
Nan Fry holds a PhD. from Yale University, is the author of two books of poetry, Relearning the Dark and Say What Am I Called, a chapbook of translations from the Anglo Saxon. Her work has appeared in numerous journals, anthologies and textbooks and she has received two awards from the Maryland State Arts Council. Several of her poems have also appeared on posters in the Washington and Baltimore transit systems as part of the Poetry Society of America's Poetry in Motion program. When not writing, Fry teaches at The Writer's Center in Bethesda, Maryland.
