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我尊称你为诗人

我尊称你为诗人

 

作者:徐敬亚

 

  世界上至少有两种诗。日常的、像蝴蝶一样在人间飞舞的诗与诗性语言,它们大概由过去常说的缪斯女神主管。我承认他们都算是诗人——这是站在人类学和社会学的立场。而另一类,超智的、天才的,对世界持有独特看法和语言魔力的诗,则只能由上帝亲手主管。我认为他们是能够影响人类的诗人——这是站在诗学和智慧、尊严的立场。

  这些年,我对诗一直心怀以上两种广义、狭义的标准。对于一线的诗人们,我希望尽量拿出我的挑剔与刻薄。而对民间众多的诗歌写作者,我希望对他们越来越宽容。我的依据是:在当下中国,诗已成为社会的偏远部落。诗写得好、不太好、不好,已不再是重大问题。在强横的生存面前,诗已降低为一种“部落识别码”。它在一批人与另一批人之间划出了分隔红尘与天堂的边线……再严格一点说,是否守住好诗的严酷标准,其实是一个诗歌写作者撑下去的唯一理由。这正如我们可以无条件地承认一些生物属于女人,但整个人类对美女的标准仍然十分苛刻。

  读三泉的诗,读了10来首时,我感到:他击中了我。

  他不是那种刀枪翻飞,或者把金箍棒舞得团团转的武者。他像一个略含孤僻的默者,冷笑着偶尔刺过来几支匕首便转身而去。其实,这种高冷匕首的方式,早已成为当下的惯用路数。而同样的路数下,就看你的匕首尖不尖,深不深,你有没有真功夫。

  我们读诗的兴趣、效果从哪里来,其实它只能起源于一种共同感。在千差万别的人类感觉中,毕竟还存在着某种互感的、公共性的念头与通道。

  其实,诗歌圈内的阅读很可怕。我们这些一辈子和诗在一起的人,或者说同行的家伙们的阅读,与其说是专业的、老道的、挑剔的,不如说是麻木的、互轻的、职业病式的带有某种先天嫉妒味道的阅读。诗歌圈内总是不乏夸奖之辞。大致可分三类。一类是不知羞耻地夸赞。如排除无知,这类夸者应该改行或自杀。第二类是轻佻地夸奖,夸词如水面上漂浮,不敢真切用语,一看便知他藏在后面的脸微红。最后一类是阅读者的美学被击中,内感的界线被突破。这时候最奇妙的反应是这个阅读者的脑海中甚至涌出些微诗意,假设他还愿意说出来。

  三泉对“时间”的感觉惊人。

  他说:我刚写下“时间”,时间就被我用掉。这是魔鬼快速出现并被快速擦去的一瞬。

  时间与空间,是我们感觉世界的基本框架。空间是骨骼,时间是灵魂。没有谁能描绘时间,它没有形状,没有始终。

  三泉深一步说:我用掉自己,所以我证明,我是时间的边缘。这不仅是觉察,更似爱因斯坦式的辨断与宣告,几乎可以写出时间公式了。

  如果没有专门的研究,他写不出高难度的归属感:时间,属于一场不存在的雨。他把时间的流逝形象化,然后又一笔虚化。

  他说:我一直在过剩下的时光……父亲走后,母亲是剩下的。悲哀而残酷,他把不着边际的时间精致地切成带鱼段,阴阳两隔。

  他说:时间不需加油……像一场电影中睡着的部分,被无情地忽略……

  他说:万物都在重复,只有死亡不会。

  在中国当代诗人中,有谁这样精妙地品味过时间。在三泉最妙手偶得的几首诗中,他似乎成为时间体味大师。

  无疑,第一辑《时间速写》是三泉最动人的部分。在后面几辑中我的感觉弱下来了。诗并不是用固定模具生产的。没有任何一位诗人永远能写出像麦茬一样同等高度的诗。

  我似乎无法改变喜欢诗中金句的习惯。那些如美女一样的句子,是一首诗最深的划痕,是最能触动并释放读者高峰体验的搔点,如同匕首锋刃旁那一道放血的沟槽。对金句诗我的标准很简单:一是生命意识要重。二是感觉层面要轻。三是语言修辞要透明。

  当然我也喜欢平缓、安静、纯然一色的感觉性的诗。那类诗的光并不强,也并不聚光灯似地只激射某几行。它是一种通篇发着光的亮度。虽然诗意温吞吞地平滑,但却可以有罗宋汤一样的浓度。那是另一类低调的高僧。它需要诗人通体透亮,具有独立于世的情感,甚至暗中的哲学与美学。这类诗人基本是悲悯忧伤的,走在月球的背面。

  在读三泉的诗的时候,我像在一条起伏的路上踩点。我要寻找这个诗人的最高点!——即他看待世界的、唯他自己的那个基点的海拔。

  我发现三泉对空间的感觉也有不凡。他说:我用一小时交换山的高度/又用三十分钟,把它归还。他把爬山者和山之间的关系写出了外交家的气度,用词讲究,内涵也舒展、高贵。他说:大海不停地放大悲伤/它把伤口缝上,又撕开……这个感觉倒是很多人所共有,但三泉的体验和修辞都更真切。别人也能刺,但他能刺出血。他说:每一滴水,都在咬紧牙关。其凶狠,超常。

  在寻找他对本体的感知时,我找到了:当衰老来临/我的身体,竟有几分顺从。从文化意义上说,这是自我的分裂与不甘。从诗人写作的内感上讲,这样的自我反诘耗能很大,需要内心涌起相当大的浪涛。用词用语老道,“竟”字强大,“顺从”精准。他还说过:一支芦花替我活着。这是三泉哀伤的口吻。

  有意思的是,我发现这本诗集中出现了10次引文。简单查了一下查不出。于是我索性在网上全部普查一遍,竟然踪影全无。我猜测那些句子出自他阅读范围内的某类书籍。而这些书籍又带有某种宗教的色彩。我也的确在这本诗集中嗅出了些许的另类气息:我有大片粮仓,依然低头去捡一棵稻穗……自然的主啊……请给我装上麋鹿的眼睛、绵羊的心。

  26年前愤于名人序滥,我写过一篇文章《拒绝为人写序》。少壮悲愤自绝,老来何必执拗。于诗来说有感便发,无感摊手,管它什么名号。

  回到开头的话题,什么是诗人?我认为:只能感动自己的,属于以诗为药的自救者。能感动别人的,才是普渡的诗者。

  三泉,我愿意尊称你为诗人。

  这是我写的序。

 

2022-3-10

 

  注:本文为三泉诗集《天鹅之死》序

 

I Respectfully Call You a Poet

 

By Xu Jingya

 

  There are at least two kinds of poetry in the world. The daily poetry and poetic language that dance around this world like butterflies are presumably, as people used to say, presided over by the Muse. I admit that I regard them all as poets — from an anthropological and sociological standpoint. And the other group, those super-intelligent and gifted poetry with unique views and linguistic magic can only be in the charge of God himself. I believe they are poets who can influence human beings — this is from the standpoint of poetics, wisdom and dignity.

  Over the years, I have been thinking about poetry in both broad and narrow terms. As to the front-line poets, I hope to be as critical and caustic as possible. And when it comes to thenumerous folk poets, I hope to be more and more tolerant. My basis is that poetry has become a remote tribe of society in current China. What mattersa lot is no longer whether poetry is written well, not very well or not well at all. Poetry has been reduced to a “tribal identification code” in the face of tough survival, and itdraws a boundary line separating the world from heaven between one group and another... To put it more strictly, the adherence to the harsh standards of good poetry is actually the only reason for a poet to persist in his writing, just as,despite our unconditional admission that some creatures belong to women, the entire human race has very strict standards for beauty.

  After reading about 10 poems written by Sanquan, I felt:he struck me.

  He is less a martial artist who flips his sword or dances Monkey King's golden cudgel around than a silent man with slight solitude, sneering, occasionally stabbing a few daggers and turning away. In fact, this elegantly cold daggering has long become popular nowadays. It all depends, in the same way, on how sharp your dagger is, how deep it goes and how skilled you are.

  Our interest and effectiveness in reading poetry, as it is, originate from a common sense. There are, after all, some mutual inductance and common notions and channels in thousands of different human feelings.

  As a matter of fact, reading in the poetry world is quite awful. When reading, those of us who have livedwith poetry, or those fellow poets, are not so much professional, experienced and picky as insensitive, mutually contemptuous, occupational-disease-like and innately jealous. The praise that prevails in this circle fall roughly into three categories. The first is to compliment shamelessly. If ignorance is excluded, such flatterers should change their careers or commit suicide. The second is to praise frivolously. Words floating on water, he dares not make sincere comments. It’s obvious that his face hidden behind blushes slightly. The last is that the reader’s aesthetic sense is thrilled and the border of his inner feeling broken through. The most wonderful reaction at this time is that it even has a ring of poetry in his own mind, assuming that he chooses to say it at all.

  Sanquan has an amazing sense of “time”.

  He said: the moment I write down "time", I’ve used it up. This was the instant when the devil quickly appeared and was quickly wiped off.

  The basic framework where we feel the world is constituted by time and space which respectively make up bone and soul. No one can describe time, for it has neither shape, nor beginning or end.

  Sanquan said: I use up myself, so I prove that I am the edge of time. This showed not only perception, but Einstein’s judgment and declaration, almost writing a formula of time.

  Without special research, he couldn’t have written in a difficult sense of belonging: time belongs to a rain that does not exist. He visualized the passage of time and then virtualized it.

  He said: I've been spending what’s left in my life... After my father passed away, my mother makes what’s left. Sad and cruel, he delicately cut the endless time into fish segments, separating the living and the dead.

  He said: time needs no refueling... Like the sleeping part of watching a movie, which is ruthlessly ignored.

  He said: everything repeats, except death.

  There being noother contemporary Chinese poet who can deal with time in such an exquisite way, Sanquanseems to be a professional time taster in some of his most ingenious poems.

  Undoubtedly, I’m most impressed by the first series “Time Sketch”. And my feelings weakened in the next few series. Poetry is not produced in a fixed mold, and no poets can ever write poetry of the same height as the wheat stubble.

  I can’t seem to get out of the habit of favoring golden lines when reading poetry. Those beauty-like lines are the deepest scratches in a poem, which, just like the bleeding grooves next to the blade of a dagger, trigger and release the reader’s peak experience. My standard for golden verses is very simple: first, the life consciousness should be highlighted. Second, the feeling aspect should be lightened. Third, the linguistic rhetoric should be transparent.

  Of course, I also like gentle, quiet and pure poems that can wake up emotional echoes. Instead of spotlighting only a few lines, it shines with moderate and penetrating brightness. Tepid and smooth as its poetic quality is, it can have the same concentration as borscht. That’s another class of low-key eminent monk. The poet is required to be transparently bright, emotionally independent, and even reservedly knowledgeable about philosophy and aesthetics. Mostly compassionate and sentimental, such poets walk on the other side of the moon.

  When reading Sanquan’s poems, I feel like treading a rolling road. I want to seek his highest point — that is, the elevation from which he, himself alone, views the world.

  I found that Sanquan’s sense of space is also very impressive. He said: I exchange one hour for the height of the mountain / and 30 minutes for its return. With exquisite words and flexible and noble connotation, he described the relationship between climbers and mountains in a diplomat’s demeanor. He said: the sea kept magnifying its sadness / it sewed and tore its wounds... This feeling is shared by many people, but Sanquan's experience and rhetoric are more vivid and distinct. Others can stab while he can stab as well as bleeding. He said: every drop of water is gritting its teeth. Soextraordinarily fierce.

  In searching for his perception of noumenon, I foundwhen aging comes / my body is unexpectedly somewhat obedient, which, in a cultural sense, suggests self-fragmentation and unwillingness. In terms of the poets inner sense of writing, however, such self-questioning is rather energy-consuming and requires a considerable surge of waves in his heart. The diction is quite sophisticated, for example, “unexpectedly” is so overwhelming, and “obedient” extremely precise. He also said: a reed flower lives on behalf of me. This revealed the sadness typical of Sanquan.

  Interestingly, I came across 10 quotations in this collection, which I found from nowhere after a brief search. So I might as well make a thorough search on the Internet, only to discover no trace. I guess those lines came from some books he read that have a certain religious trait. I did smell something different in this collection:having a large area of granary, I still bow to pick up a stalk of rice... Lord of nature... please fit me with an elk’s eyes and a sheep’s heart.

  Angry at the flooding of celebrities’ writing prefaces 26 years ago, I wrote an article titled I Refuse to Preface Others’ Works. Now I’m old enough to break my promise made out of sorrow and indignation when I was young. When it comes to poetry, where there is a feeling, there is a comment. Otherwise, no matter whose work it is, I have no comment to make.

  Back to the beginning, what makes a poet? I believe: he who can only move himself is a self-rescuer to take poetry as medicine. He who can move others is the poet to rescue all beings.

  Sanquan, I respectfully call you a poet.

  This is the preface I write.


March 10, 2022


天鹅之死(中英)

 

作者:三泉

 

中英文对照诗集•第一辑•时间速写

Chinese and English Poetry Collection • PartOne• Time Sketch

 

时间速写

 

我刚写下“时间”,时间就被我用掉。

我只好以出生,代替时间的开始,

以死亡代替它的终结。

我用掉自己,所以我证明,

我是时间的边缘,

我永远差一点,写出它。

“万物皆为时间的刻度,

我必将成为那过时之人”

这让我想起秋天,果实被时间分割,

我只能描写它的坠落,忧伤也一笔带过。

 

Time Sketch

 

The moment I write down “time”, I’ve used it up.

I have to replace the beginning of time with birth,

And its ending with death.

I use up myself, so thatI can prove

I am the edge of time.

I am always close to writing it.

All things are scales of time,

And I’ll be the one left behind.”

It reminds me of autumn when fruit issliced by time.

I can only describe its fall, with no expansion of my sadness.

 

少女

 

大雾附体。山谷戴着诸神的帽子。

我们之间隔着沟壑,像隔着

两个模糊不清的年代。

如果我走近,它就会升腾,交给我一片

真实的虚空。

那个用橡皮擦去我浓密黑发的少女

同样有任性的美——

她画了几根

灰色的稀疏的枝条

以表达山谷上,即将消散的苍茫。

 

The Girl

 

Penetrated with thick fog, the valley wore the hat of the gods.

We were separated by a gully, as if separated

By two blurred ages.

If I came near, it wouldrise and offer me a piece of

True void.

The girl who wiped my thick black hair with an eraser

Was of the samewillfulbeauty—

She drew a few

Sparse gray branches

To express the fading vastness above the valley.

 

登山记

 

时间有自己的台阶。

 

我们结伴而行。

山顶,是我向时间发出的邀请函。

 

“你快,还是赶不上早行的人;

你慢,照旧拖不住落日的脚步”

 

在龙架山,我用一小时交换山的高度

又用三十分钟,把它归还。

 

Mountain Climbing

 

Time has its own steps.

 

We travelled together,

And the top of the mountain was an invitation I sent time.

 

Moving fast, you can’t catch up with the early climbers;

Moving slowly, you can’t hold the footsteps of the sunset.”

 

At Longjia Mountain, I traded one hour for its height,

And thirty minutes for its return.

 

大海记

 

我想用一座钟来模仿时间;用一艘船,来模仿大海。

 

此刻,我感觉不到时针和分针的跳动,只有秒针在不断撞击

夜幕下的海。

 

……空荡,寂静。但颠簸的船

透漏了海的秘密:每一滴水,都在咬紧牙关。

 

大海的尽头是什么?

在大连到青岛的旅途中,我想到一本书:《悲剧的诞生》

 

时间是万物的神。像风暴始于海的中央

我的每一次旅行都始于神的召唤。

 

The Sea

 

I wanted to imitate time with a clock, and the sea with a ship.

 

At the moment, I couldn’t feel the beatsof the hour and minute hands, but the constant striking of the second hand

On the sea at night.

 

... Empty, andsilent. But the rolling ship

Revealed the secret of the sea: every drop of waterwas gritting its teeth.

 

What’s at the end of the sea?

On the journey from Dalian to Qingdao, I thought of a book: The Birth of Tragedy.

 

Time is the god of all. As a storm startsin the middle of the sea,

Each of my journeys starts with a call from God.

 

 

点上一根烟,我就要经过村庄

这个村庄,也正在升起一缕炊烟。

 

一根烟的功夫,村庄被汽车抛下

我想:在一缕烟的地方,我呆了不到一根烟的时间。

 

一根烟熄灭的时候,一缕烟是不是还在飘荡?

我这样想的时候,已是很多年后了。

 

我仍然记得这个无名的村庄

因两种毫无关系的烟,竟有一种说不清楚的亲近。

 

Smoke

 

Lighting a cigarette, I was to pass by the village,

Where a wisp of smokewas rising.

 

The moment the cigarette wasfinished, the village had beenleft behind by the car.

I talked to myself: in a place where a wisp of smoke is rising, I stayed for so short a whilefor me to finish only one cigarette.

 

Was the smoke still floating when the cigarette went out?

It’s years later when I wondered this way.

 

I still remember this unknown village

To which I feel subtlyconnected because of two unrelated smokes.

 

苔藓

 

在一块石壁上着床,无根无茎无花,

甚至连影子也没有。

我的爱是模糊的,像一片苔藓,

分不出你与你们。

一株植物爱着渺小,我爱着一片苍茫。

漂泊的人,收割了眼前的风景;

随遇而安的草,却种下时间。

“混沌是简单的,盲目是高级的,死亡是假的”

一颗石头,因一片苔藓的侵入

而有了爱与悲悯。

 

Moss

 

Growing on a rock wall, it’s rootless, stemless, flowerless,

And even shadowless.

My love is vague, like a piece of moss,

Unable to tell the singular youfrom the plural you.

A plant lovestininess, while I love vastness.

Wandering peoplereap the scenery in sight;

While happy-go-lucky grass plants time.

Chaos is simple, blindness is advanced, and death is false.”

A stoneinvaded by a piece of moss

Is infused withlove and compassion.

 

对视

 

他坐在一把椅子上看我

那时他多么年轻啊

他还不会抽烟,不会恋爱,不会害怕

青春多美好啊,有那么多不会。

 

我慢腾腾向烟缸浇了几口水

其实,也可以让它自生自灭吧?

他一定看不惯我犹豫不决的样子

更不会知道:当一切慢下来,当衰老来临

我的身体,竟有几分顺从。

 

再过十年,他还在那把椅子上

我在哪儿呢?

谁会知道这茫然的一瞥

包含多少无意义的爱——

我一直死心塌地,活在一个人的空白处。

 

Looking at Each Other

 

Sitting in a chair, he was looking at me

How young he was then

He couldn’tsmoke, love, orfear

How beautiful youth was, and there was so muchhe hadn’t learned yet.

 

I slowly poured some water into the ashtray

In fact, I could leave it alone?

He must have frowned upon my indecision

What he didn’t know was: when everything slows down, andagingis approaching

My body isunexpectedly somewhat obedient.

 

Ten years from now, he’ll still be in that chair

Where will I be?

Who would have known how much meaningless love

The blank glance contained —

I’ve always lived in a person’s blank space, deadly dedicated.

 

 

我经过一个像教堂一样的桥洞

 

我经过一个

像教堂一样的桥洞

廊柱瘦高,穹顶尖圆

我发现教堂和桥,做着同样的事情

渡人。一个渡来世,一个渡今生

可我从没见过,一座像桥一样的教堂

桥上的人交出人间,桥下的人交出天堂

他们相互穿过——

两条不同的路。像一个流动的十字架

一条是爱,另一条是救赎

 

I Pass a Churchlike Arch of a Bridge

 

I pass a

Churchlike arch of a bridge

With slender and high pillars, and sharp and round apex

I findwhat churches and bridges do is the same

To save man,one in their afterlife, and the other, in their present life

But I’ve never seen a bridge-like church

People on the bridge surrender the human world, while those under it surrender heaven

They shuttle through each other —

Two different roads, makewhat is like a moving cross

One is love, and the other is redemption

 

维纳斯

 

一个神住进石头,一个神走出石头,

一把刀是最后的审判者。

忍受烟火的熏烤,也忍受

银行家,艺术家,政客们,母亲们,男人们

再补上一刀。

宽衣解带,袒胸露乳,

在她面前,有多少人嗷嗷待哺?

只有断掉的双臂时刻在提醒:

她是一颗石头

在人间出生,必经历人间磨难。

 

Venus

 

One god lives in stone, another god walks out of stone,

And a knife is the final judge.

Bearing the fume of smoke, and

Cuts made by

Bankers, artists, politicians, mothers, and men

Stripped off and topless,

How many starving creaturesdoes she have to feed?

It isher broken arms that keepreminding:

As a stone

Born in the human world, she must experience sufferingsthere.

 

这是无法治愈的大海

 

大海不停地放大悲伤。

它把伤口缝上,又撕开……

在石老人海滩,我看见黑暗中的海,

细成了一条白线。画上,又涂掉。

这是无法治愈的大海,海岸已

无数次宽恕了对方。

当我从海边归来,我仍坚持它未知的部分,

那跃出鲸鱼的风暴的中心。

大海仍左冲右突,却无法挣脱

大地的牢笼。

 

This Was the Incurable Sea

 

The sea keptmagnifying its sadness.

It sewed and tore its wounds...

At Stone Old Man Beach, I saw the sea in the dark

Became a thin white line, painted, and then blotted out.

It was the incurable sea that had been

Forgiven by the shore a million times.

When returning from the sea, I still adhered to its unknown part,

The center of the storm where the whale leaped out.

Rushing in all directions, the sea could not break free

From the earth’s cage.

 

向日葵

 

我爱万物饱满,

爱金黄。

爱坚挺,厚实,爱她因亢奋

所呈现的弧度。

 

我也爱她的根茎,

爱背光面,集结养分的队列。

爱万有引力,

爱她发育后低垂的乳房。

 

我爱光明,但不是太阳。

我也爱黑暗中的矿工,为挖出更多的煤

不得不佝偻着身子。

 

The Sunflower

 

I love the plumpness of all things,

I love gold.

I love their strength, thickness

And radiansbecause of excitement

 

I love as well her root,

Shady sides, and queues gathering nutrients.

I love gravitation,

And her drooping breasts afterdevelopment.

 

I love light rather than the sun.

I also love the miners in the dark, who have to lean forward

To dig out more coal

 

芦花

 

今夜我不写芦花。

不写雪,也不写天空中

盘旋的大雁。

 

我写坐在蜜蜂湖

不辞而别的人。写他掏空的肉身

一夜白头,像经幡。

 

一支芦花替我活着

背山面水,饱读人间的浩瀚。

 

The Reed Flower

 

I won’t write about reed flowers tonight.

Neither will I write about snow, or the circling wild geese

In the sky

 

I’ll write about the person who sat at Bee Lake

And left without saying goodbye. I’ll write about his hollowed flesh

And his hair getting gray overnight, like prayer flags.

 

A reed flower lives on behalf of me

Leaning againstthe mountain and facing the water, reading throughthe vast world.

 

蝴蝶兰

 

一株草收留了迷途的蝴蝶

它的羽翼,刚好覆盖一朵花的边沿。

 

蝴蝶兰,当我写下你的名字

万籁俱寂。春天流下了

第一滴泪水。

 

自然的主啊,

请在我手臂上种植青苔

在我耳朵下生长贝壳

请给我装上麋鹿的眼睛、绵羊的心。

 

“或许,万物曾开启嫁接功能”

我的幸福是:世界之美,远超我的想象

而你,却对此一无所知。

 

Phalaenopsis

 

A grass harbored a stray butterfly

Whose wings just cover the edge of a flower.

 

Phalaenopsis, when I write your name

The silence is perfect, and down comes the first tear

Of the spring

 

Lord of nature,

Please plant moss on my arm

And grow shells under my ears

Please fit me with an elk’s eyes and a sheep’s heart.

 

Perhaps, all things were grantedengrafting availability”

My happiness is: the beauty of the world, is far beyond my imagination

And you, know nothing about it.

 

青花瓷

 

给我,你的手。

抚摸我,

让我柔软,而不崩塌。

我将感到,

空虚,

有现实的肋骨。

时间是巨大的容器,

我从一朵隐忍的花中,

找到出口。

一棵草带着隔世的露水,

一条出土的鱼,

如泥海,无法凫渡。

我将怀念秋水一样缠绵的淬火,

它曾怎样吻我战栗的身体?

且容我以你为父,

你只需一座山,

安放落日。

 

Blue-and-white Porcelain

 

Give me, your hand.

Touch me,

And soften me,without breaking me down.

I shall feel

Emptiness

Has subsistent ribs.

Time isa huge vessel,

And from a forbearing flower,

I find the exit.

A grass carries the dew of a lifetime ago,

And an unearthed fish,

Can’t escape from what seems like a sea of mud.

I will miss the quenchas lingering as the autumn water.

How did it kiss my trembling body?

Please allow me to regard you as my father.

All you need is a mountain,

To settle the sun.

 

不存在的雨

 

一坨落下来,又一坨落下来……

 

我听到牛粪落地的声音

有尚未消尽的草料味。

 

无边的空旷牵着牠

一头牛为什么必须走在夜里?

 

一定存在着两种现实:

一种是存在的现实,一种是不存在的现实。

 

今夜,我一直在等下一坨,下一坨……

好像时间,属于一场不存在的雨。

 

The Rain That DoesNot Exist

 

A lump fell down, and another lump fell down...

 

I hear cow dung falling to the ground

With a lingering smell of grass.

 

The immensity of emptiness leads him

Why does a cow have to walk at night?

 

There must be two realities:

One that exists, and the otherthat does not exist.

 

Tonight, I’ve been waiting for the next, and the next lump...

As if timebelonged to a rain that does not exist.

 

她们代表全部的孤独和一部分的我

 

我一直在过剩下的时光

剩下的黄昏,剩下的照耀,剩下的晚餐

人也是剩下的

父亲走后,母亲是剩下的。

 

霍金说:如果没有外力,事物总是向更无序发展。

 

我常想:这个外力是上帝吗?

这样的追问,耗尽了剩下的悲伤。

 

当我走后,剩下整个世界,剩下大海和星空

也剩下孟姜女河,剩下两个女儿

她们代表全部的孤独和一部分的我。

 

They Represent All the Loneliness and Part of Me

 

I’ve been spending what is left in my life

The dusk, the light, and the dinner

And there are people that are left

Aftermy father passed away, my mother makeswhat is left.

 

Hawking said: If there is no external force, things will always develop into disorder.

 

I often wonder: is this external force God?

Such questioning, has exhausted the rest of my sadness.

 

When I am gone, what are left will bethe whole world, the sea and the stars

Meng Jiangnu River and my two daughters

They represent all my loneliness and part of me.

 

月亮

 

若干年后,我还会不会想起这月圆之夜?

 

那年她7岁,躺在屋顶的平台上看月亮

我们不停背诵月亮的诗

如同帮一个行将失忆之人

努力记住亲人的名字

 

孤月高悬。在故乡

我没有理由忧伤,也没有理由心慌

但我心跳加速,已超过那幸福的诵读声

 

今夜她独在异乡。我想起那晚的月亮

似乎已全部拥有,又仿佛已全部失去

 

The Moon

 

Will I still think of this full moon night years from now?

 

She was 7 years old. Lying on the roof terrace and looking at the moon

We kept reciting poems about it

As if helping a man who’s on the verge of losing memory

To remember the names of his loved ones

 

The lonely moon was hanging high. In my hometown

I had no reason to feel sad, or upset

But my heart beat faster than our happy recitation

 

Tonight she is alone in a foreign place. I remember the moon that night

I seem to have had it all, or lostit at all otherwise

 

中英文对照诗集•第二辑•天鹅之死

Chinese and English Poetry Collection • PartTwo•The Death of a Swan

 

天鹅之死

 

有人听到翅膀折断的声音

但它并没有坠落

靠着沸腾的血

它的头颅又上升了几公分

 

它已经在聚光灯下

死过很多次

它的脖颈拉长后撕裂

瘫倒在泥土中

它不愿意——

像一个人那样死去

 

今夜月亮在清洗它的伤口

它的痛苦和它的骄傲一样多

它拒绝进食,甚至一滴水

看来,它要把自己消耗殆尽——

 

它要让自己轻起来

像一片羽毛,在飞翔中死去

 

The Death of a Swan

 

Someone heard the sound of itswings breaking

But it didn’t fall

Thanks to its boiling blood

Its head rose by a few centimeters

 

It had already died dozens of times

In the spotlight

Its neck stretched and torn

It collapsed in the dirt

It hated—

To die like a human being

 

The moon is cleaning its wounds tonight

The pain it suffered was as much as the pride it took

Refusing to eating anything, even a drop of water

It’s likely toexhaust itself —

 

To make itself light enough

Like a feather, and die in its flight

 

黄昏

 

黄昏从一个女人开始。她倚着楼墙

打电话,吐烟圈

 

照耀过阿赫玛托娃灵魂的阳光

在照耀她

 

她不会注意,一辆缓缓驶过的列车

正搬运忧伤。一两个完整的烟圈

抵消不了黄昏的沉重感

 

莫斯科的太阳就要落下

像从电话的另一端,被随手掐断

 

Dusk

 

Dusk begins with a woman, leaning against the wall of the building

Talking on the phone, and blowing smoke rings

 

The sun that shone on Akhmatova’s soul

Is shining on her

 

She can’t notice a slowly passing train

Carrying sadness. One or two full smoke rings

Can’t offset the heaviness of dusk

 

The sun is setting over Moscow

As if cut off randomly, from the other end of the phone

 

白桦林

 

忧伤说来就来。像白桦林

杵在一片原野上

像月光不会拐弯

撞在白桦林的枝叶上

像一滩水银

在她胸间晃动

 

The Birch Wood

 

So easily, has my sadness come. Like the birch wood

Standing alone in a field

Like the moon that can’t bend

Bumping into the birch branches

And like a pool of mercury

Danglingin her breasts

 

诗人之死• 致普希金

 

末日似乎已来临

美德和邪恶都在敲死神之门

炉火边,美丽的女人还在打盹

一辆马车疾驰在大雪纷飞的路上

他摘掉头上的帽子,像寒风

摘掉白桦树的树冠

像一首死亡之诗,摘掉了修辞——

枪响的时候,驾车人跳下颠簸的马车

而太阳还要赶着它策马向前

 

(普希金,俄罗斯诗歌的太阳,1837年,普希金因维护妻子名誉,与人决斗而死,年仅38岁。)

 

The Death of a Poet• To Pushkin

 

Doomsday seemedto have come

Both virtue and vice were knocking at the door of death

The beautiful woman still dozing by the fire

And awagon galloping down the snowy road

He took off his hat, like the cold wind

Removed the crown of a silver birch

And like a poemof death removedits rhetoric —

The driver jumped out of the jolting carriage when the gun went off

And the sun would drive it on

 

(Pushkin, the sun of Russian poetry, died in a duel to defend his wife’s honor at the age of 38 in 1837.)

 

诗人之死•致叶赛宁

 

让我们并排坐下

像白桦林的叶片一样,手挽着手

如果有酒,先敬月色

是它把我们的家乡连成一片

从高加索到圣彼得堡

我们骑着玫瑰色的快马

然后敬天下的众生,生生不息

养育乡间小路上的灯火

在打谷场过夜的异乡人,我也敬你

黎明时分,苹果花的薄雾上

有家乡的味道

让我们并排坐下,倚着简陋的墓地

你不必心慌,也不必羞怯

就像心爱的姑娘家

我们迟早都要去那里做客

 

(叶赛宁,俄罗斯田园派诗人,忧郁而多情,1925年在列宁格勒的一家旅馆投缳自尽,年仅30岁)

 

The Death of a Poet • To Yesenin

 

Let’s sit side by side

Like leaves in a birch wood, hand in hand

If there is wine, first to the moon

Who binds our hometowns together

From the Caucasus to St. Petersburg

We ride fast rose-colored horses

Then to all the endlessliving beings in the world

Breedingthe lights along the country roads

And to the stranger spending nightson the threshing-floor

At dawn, the mist between apple blossoms

Smells of home

Let’s sit side by side, against the humble cemetery

You needn’t be flustered, or timid

It’s just like a beloved girl’s house

Where we’llbothbe guests sooner or later

 

(Yesenin, a melancholic and amorous Russian pastoral poet, hanged himself in a hotel in Leningrad at the age of 30in 1925.)

 

诗人之死•致莱蒙托夫

 

是一束看不见的火

谁点燃,谁就是桂冠上的王

咒语和颂词,都赶着马车朝拜

而谁见过,我在一首诗中发出死亡的祷告?

我无须隐忍,灵魂和躯体的决斗

这不是热爱,也不是拒绝

像大海藏起它的波浪

像草原涌来它的牛羊

像爱她的美貌一样爱她的轻浮

我在风暴的中央,也在宁静的边缘

我爱它的永恒也爱它的短暂

我有大片粮仓,依然低头去捡一棵稻穗

 

(莱蒙托夫,普希金之后俄罗斯最伟大诗人,1841年,和退伍少校马丁诺夫决斗而死,年仅27岁。)

 

The Death of a Poet • To Lermontov

 

It’s an invisible fire

Whoever lights it is the king of laurel

Worshiped by spells and eulogies with wagons

And who, has ever seen me utter a death prayer in a poem?

I don’t have to endure a duel between soul and body

It’s neither passion nor rejection

Like the sea hiding its waves

Like the prairie tiding its cattle and sheep

Like loving her frivolity as much as her beauty

I’m in the center of the storm and on the edge of the calmness

I love its permanence as much as its transience

Having a large area of granary, I still bow to pick up a stalk of rice

 

(Lermontov, Russia’s greatest poet after Pushkin, died in a duel with retired Major Martynov at the age of 27in 1841.)

 

诗人之死•致茨维塔耶娃

 

所有的树木都是女人

我是生长在密林中

荆棘一样的女人

你吻我,就会失去我

我爱野桃花一样盛开的苦

也爱男人们,从荆棘丛中采出的蜜

爱是分离吗?我要的是

一次次分离

我等待爱已太久

我等待大海已太久

我等待刀剑已太久

但我的身边只有一条绳索

 

(茨维塔耶娃,俄罗斯最伟大诗人之一,一生孤傲、贫穷,生前女儿被捕,丈夫被枪决,19418月自缢身亡,年49岁)

 

The Death of a Poet • To Tsvetaeva

 

All trees are women

I’m a thorn-like woman

Growing in a dense forest

Kiss me, and you’ll lose me

I love the pain blossoming like wild peach flowers

I love the men collecting honey from thorns

Is love what separation means? What I want is

To separate again and again

I’ve been waiting too long for love

I’ve been waiting too long for the sea

I’ve been waiting too long for knife andsword

But there is only one rope beside me

 

(Tsvetaeva, one of Russia’s greatest poets, lived a proud and poor life. Her daughter was arrested and her husband was shot. She hanged herself at the age of 49in August 1941.)

 

诗人之死•致西尔维亚•普拉斯

 

梦中的美人,你在和死亡调情?

一次,又一次

你挑亮死亡的灯芯

在冬天的湖边裸体骑马

 

美人,我称你为纸上的王

文字统治疾病,爱驾驭死亡

而我也是你的爱人——

在诗歌的大床上如此纵欲

像一个词纠缠另外一个

像身体进入身体,尘埃贴近尘埃

 

“我们从遥远的地方来,现在到了”

草木依然消瘦,月亮照旧无常

我把你叠进自己的身体

我因你,而爱上死亡

 

在另一座城市,我们如此陌生

我为什么爱你?

夜深的时候,凌晨的时候

美人自残的呼叫打湿每一页铺开的纸张

美人啊,推开门窗,星光照耀……

 

(西尔维亚•普拉斯,美国自白派诗人,终生被伤痛灵魂与迷乱心智所折磨,饱受精神梦魇摧残,1963年以自杀结束了悲伤的生命,年仅31岁)

 

The Death of a Poet • To Sylvia Plath

 

Beauty in my dreams, are you flirting with death?

Again and again

Lighting the wick of death

You’re riding naked by a lake in winter

 

Beauty, I call you the queenon paper

Words rule diseases, and love reins death

And I, also your lover —

Am so indulgent on the bed of poetry

Like a word pestering another

Abody penetrating another, and a dust pressing another

 

We come from far away, and here we are.”

The grass is still thin, and the moon still fickle

I fold you into my body

I fall in love with death, because of you

 

In another city, we are so strangeto each other

Why do I love you?

Late at night, and early in the morning

The beauty’s cries of self-mutilation wetevery spread page

Beauty, open the door, and have the starsshiningdown on you...

 

(Sylvia Plath, an American confessional poet, was tormented by a troubled soul and a confused mindall her life. Tortured by mental nightmares, she committed suicide at the age of 31in 1963.)

 

伊瓜苏瀑布

 

这经书太长。瀑布大声的朗诵

让我想起永不停止的事物

像时间不需加油

它们前扑后续,奔赴同样的前程

如果只是一条河,或早已被人间忽略

它的动力是亚马逊,有无限长……

我不愿无休止想下去

我已远离伊瓜苏。在中国

我还是习惯有始有终

一想到它们停不下来

我就心怀绝望

好像那匆匆崩落的流水就是我

那不断轰鸣的经书就是我

那永无宁日的深渊就是我

 

Iguazu Falls

 

The sacred book is too long. The loud readingof the waterfalls

Reminds me of what never ceases

Like time that does not need refueling

Rushing forward one after another, they head for the same future

Should it besimply a river, it might long be ignored by the world

Powered by the Amazon, it is infinitely long...

I don’t want to dwell on it

Far from Iguazu, and in China

I’m still used to finishing what I start

The moment I think of their ceaselessness

I feel desperate

As if the rushing water were me

The incessantly roaring bookwere me

And the abyss where there will never be days of peace were me

 

从一杯咖啡中回家

 

喝了酒。一杯咖啡

让她冷静下来。

从苦涩中学习采奶的技艺,

她的幸福是抚摸。

一杯咖啡刚腾空三分之一,

优雅与虚无交换了位置。

被浪费的部分,

像她荒芜的身体

保持着黄金分割的比例。

她起身告辞,

加入一缕乳香的队列。

波西米亚的披肩

像一片落叶又回到美丽的树上。

 

Going Home from a Cup of Coffee

 

Having drunk some wine, she was sedated

By a cup of coffee.

Learning the art of milking from the bitter,

She found happiness from stroking.

A cup of coffee about one-third empty,

Elegance and nothingness have swapped places.

What’s wasted,

Like her barren body

Maintained the golden ratio.

She got up to say goodbye,

Joining a line of frankincense.

Her Bohemian shawl

Like a fallen leaf, returned to a beautiful tree.

 

漫长的婚约

 

在一场电影的中间部分

我睡着了

醒来的时候

女人正脱去裙子

和一个陌生人上床

我没有诧异

历史采取了倒叙的手法

她们的老公

被驱至两军交战的中间地带

像一场电影中睡着的部分

被无情地忽略

漫长的婚约

一点也不觉得漫长

一场战争

无论多么煎熬

也只有短短的90分钟

 

The Prolonged Engagement

 

In the middle of a movie

I fell asleep

When I woke up

The woman was taking off her skirt

To sleep with a stranger

It didn’t catch me by surprise

History worked in reverse

Their husbands

Were driven to the middle zone between two armies

Like my sleep during the movie

Wasruthlessly ignored

Theprolonged engagement

Was not long at all

Howevertorturous

It was

The war lastedno more than 90 minutes

 

一部电影为什么不能有完美结局

 

一开始就错了?

15岁的女主角与她的同学,

在车上云雨。

真正的男主角更像配角,

婴儿,童年,少年

三个演员接力,来证明

他的无辜。

他们过得糟糕,

却没人觉得是个错误。

当她抱住儿子,更像一个姐姐

“你不是困扰,是永远的救赎”

这是一部电影的结局部分,

大雪覆盖了山谷,最先融化的

是通往异乡的车辙。

 

Why a Movie Can’t Have a Happy Ending

 

Wrong from the very beginning?

The 15-year-old heroine and one of her boy classmates

Were making love in a car.

The real hero, more like a supporting role,

Was played successively

By three actors

To provehis innocence.

They had a bad time,

But nobody thought ita mistake.

When hugging her son, she was more like a sister

You’re not a trouble, but a salvation forever.”

Itwas the end of the movie.

The valley covered by snow, what first melted

Werethe ruts leading to foreign land.

 

初吻

 

一朵云趴在大地上

光秃秃的山顶还在向上生长

远处看,山和云纠缠不清

我想到一部刚刚看过的法国电影

16岁的苏菲•玛索

把头埋进小情人的怀中

她的妈妈在约会德语老师

她的牙医爸爸

在大雨中修复家庭

这一切,都与她无关

她只是个演员

只负责把裙子撑得饱满

让巴黎的每一个地方

学校,教堂,车站,家庭舞会

都埋下荷尔蒙的炸弹

今天这朵云也穿着白色裙子

我在想一个刚刚见过的人

不久将有雨水之欢

 

First Kiss

 

A cloud lyingprone on the earth

And the bare mountaintop still growing upwards

From a distance, theyare entangled with each other

I think of a French movie I’ve just seen

16-year-old Sophie Marceau

Buried her head in her little lover’s arms

Her mother was dating her German teacher

And her father, a dentist

Was healing family relations in the heavy rain

None of these had anything to do with her

She’s simply an actress

Trying to fill out the dress

And plant hormone bombs

In schools, churches, bus stops, family parties

And every other place in Paris

Today the cloud also wears a white dress

I’m thinking that a person I just met

Will soon be enjoying the pleasure of a date

 

中英文对照诗集•第三辑•我已习惯了悲伤

Chinese and English Poetry Collection • PartThree •I’ve BeenUsed to Feeling Sad

 

我已习惯了悲伤

 

春天在冬天的旧址上,大兴土木

类似女人们,在同一具身体上

制造不同的化学反应。

我常常想:美是有罪的

从高耸的山尖到垮塌的谷地

它为什么那么短暂?

我已习惯了悲伤:

万物都在重复,只有死亡不会。

 

I’ve BeenUsed to Feeling Sad

 

Spring is busy with its building work on the ruins of winter

Which is similar to women’ making different chemical reactions

On the same body

I often think: beauty is sinful

From the towering hilltop to the crumbling valley

Why is it so fleeting?

I’ve been used to feeling sad:

Everything repeats itself, except death.

 

万物生

 

三月的桃花开了

再过几天,樱花也要开。

上个春天没想明白的

这个春天,要再想一遍。

腊梅已卸掉身上的黄金

万物,有从容之美。

你看:毛毛虫正模仿一片树叶

枯萎的草尖上也有露水

它被我踩下去,又仰起头

像一个老年人,捋一捋花白的胡须。

 

Growth

 

The peach blossoms are in bloom in March

Andso will the cherry blossomsin a few days.

Whatever wasn’t figured out last spring

Will be thought about again this spring.

Wintersweettrees have taken offgold

And all things are of composed beauty.

Look: a caterpillar is imitating a leaf

And there is dew on the tip of the withered grass

Which bends down under my feet and raisesits head again

Like an old manstroking his gray beard.

 

藏匿的老虎

 

枕头上的猛兽,从来不下山。

一片金黄压倒的山林,

要到秋天才能复原。

我能想到的宁静是这样的:

坐上一列火车,穿过黑暗的山洞。

 

The Hidden Tiger

 

The beast on the pillow never comes down the hill.

A forest overwhelmed by gold,

Won’t be back until autumn.

The serenity I can imagine is like this:

Get on a train and go through a dark tunnel.

 

诗人

 

他在事物的表面上涂漆,

完全忽略了

衰老才是万物的本质。

西山是一个不错的比喻

“它永远夹在我和落日之间”

有人说:硬不起来是悲哀的

他的悲哀是不觉得硬不起来是悲哀的,

找不到一个硬不起来的形容词,

才是悲哀的。

 

The Poet

 

He paints the surface of things,

Completely ignoring

Aging is the essence of all.

The Western Hillis a good metaphor

It’s always between me and the sunset.”

It’s said:failing to get a hard-on makes one sad

What makes him sad is that he doesn’t thinkfailing to get a hard-on makes one sad

And whatmakes one sad

Is that he can’t find an adjective to describe this failure

 

新年

 

我把自己装进

一杯一杯的忘情水

一朵一朵的花蕊

一个又一个新年

我爱这尘世的反复

不想一下子结束

所以我爱着

一截一截的死亡

 

New Year

 

I put myself

Inone cup of forgetting-love waterafter another

In oneflower bud after another

And in oneNew Year after another

Loving the repetition of this world so much

I don’t want it to come to an end all at once

So I love

One piece of deathafter another

 

画家

 

一张白纸

并不是空白

滴上一滴墨,空就是白了

但白的地方还不是空

在空白处落款

并不是说空白处

什么都没有

有时盛满虚无

有时溢出忧伤

 

The Painter

 

A blank piece of paper

Does not suggestpure blank

When it is stained with ink, the blank part is white

But the white part is not blank yet

A signatureon the blank

Does not mean

Complete emptiness

Sometimes it’sfilled with nothingness

Sometimes it overflowswith sadness

 

流水

 

我想以一截水管,

比喻我的存在。

当我流过,水管空空如也。

如果其他的水,也流过同样的一截

我们或许有相似的一生。

我们从未谋面,却患上

共同的忧伤。

 

Running Water

 

I’d like to compare my existence

To a piece of water pipe.

When I flow past, the pipe is empty.

If other water runs through the same piece

We may have similar lives.

We’ve never met, and yet

We share the same sorrow.

 

我与月亮的摩擦

 

我与月亮的摩擦,

一定生成了某些古老的物质。

蛊。或者酒。神秘的潮汐。

它撞击我的躯体,

但思想才是它的堤岸。

我有短暂的迷惑,这迷惑周而复始。

忧伤不曾让我屈服,

也不曾让我清醒。

当我凝视她的乳房,它像月亮一样

皎洁。也像月亮一样野蛮。

 

My Friction with the Moon

 

My friction with the moon,

Must have generated something ancient.

Voodoo. Orwine. Mysterious tide.

It strikes my body,

But thought makes its bank.

I have a momentary confusion that goes round and round.

Sadness has not worn me down,

Nor has it cleared me up.

When I gaze at her breast, it’s as bright

As the moon, and as savage as the moon.

 

一株植物的性感部分

 

一株植物并不会掩饰,

它仍然充满欲望。

我不是唯一的发现者——

当蜜蜂像人一样攀爬另一具躯体,

一朵花暴露它隐秘的性器。

我能想到细微的振颤,

如何进化了一株植物的爱情。

“这是最艳的花,也是最美的乳房”

我无意的拨弄,都在一株植物内部

发起温柔的风暴

 

The Sexy Part of a Plant

 

A plant does not hide,

It’s still full of desire.

I’m not the only discoverer—

When a bee climbs on another body like a human,

A flower reveals its secret sex organs.

I can conceivehow a little tremor

Evolves a plant’s love.

These are the most beautiful flowers, and the most beautiful breasts as well.”

My unintendedfiddle can launch a gentle storm

Inside a plant

 

西行

 

桂林站到了。我看见一个一个的小山包

冒出来。像废弃的乳房,突然恢复了记忆。

下一站就到贵州了。火车要不停地向上攀爬

因为荒芜,就盘踞在我的头顶。

 

Traveling West

 

The train pulled into Guilin Station. I saw one hill after another

Come out, like memories of abandoned breastssuddenly came back to them.

The next was Guizhou Station. The train had to climb up and up

Asdesolationwas entrenched over my head.

 

孟姜女河

 

被拉直的孟姜女河

像个做错事的孩子,低头不语。

 

冯老二举起羊鞭,将羊群赶出了历史

少了芦苇,毛毛根,马齿菜的河堤

像少了父母和炊烟的村庄……

 

在孟姜女河东岸,边段庄一侧

我已找不到通往河边的小路

这路上有多少泥泞,就有多少幸福的秘密。

 

后来人,再也不会对着一条河忧伤了

一条没有关节的河,再也不会疼痛。

 

Meng Jiangnu River

 

The straightened Meng Jiangnu River

Is like a child who has done something wrong and hangs his head in silence.

 

Feng Lao’er raised his whip and drove the sheep out of history

The river bank without reeds, hairy roots, andpurslane

Is equal to a village without parents and smoke...

 

At one side of Bianduan Village, alongthe east bank of Meng Jiangnu River

I can’t find a path toward the river

The amount of mud on the path, is proportional to the amount of happy secret.

 

The newcomers will no longer feel sad when faced with a river

A river without joints will no longer feel pain.

 

鸟巢

 

……并没有鸟住进来。

 

对于一只鸟来说

行道树上,人工搭建的金属鸟巢

只是个形象的比喻。

 

像一个死去的人,也有一个名字

你呼叫,却无人应答。

 

但你不能说,形式是没有意义的

那些闲置的空中楼阁

让我在这个下午,不停地仰望。

 

The Bird’s Nest

 

... No birds live there.

 

For a bird

A man-made metal nest in a street tree

Is nothing but a vivid metaphor.

 

Like a dead man with a name

No answer to your call, though.

 

But you can’t say that form makes no sense

Those idle castles in the air

Keep me looking up this afternoon.

 

陌生

 

这只鸟我叫不上名字。

我肯定很多次,

见过这种鸟,

说不定也见过眼前的这只。

我说不出,

它是它还是同类中的它?

它没有在草丛中刨食,

也没有在树枝上鸣叫,

它只是晃了晃脑袋,

嗖一声飞走了。

 

Strangeness

 

I can’t name the bird.

I’m sure for many times

I’ve seen birds of this kind

Maybe including this one.

I can’t tell

It isthe very one,or just oneof them?

Instead of scratching in grass,

Or singing in branches,

Itsimply shook its head,

And flew away with a whoosh.

 

黄果树瀑布

 

究竟是水珠织成的帘子

还是水线纺成的布?

都与一棵树无关

 

当它站起来,有了令人仰望的高度

早已忘了它的名字——白水河

 

Huangguoshu Waterfall

 

A curtain made of water droplets

Or a piece of fabric made of waterline?

Neither has anything to do with a tree

 

When standing up, and having a height for others to look up to

It has forgotten its name —White Water River

 

飞花令

 

飞花是一场美的动员。

意味着一片玉米林,劫持另一片玉米林。

想起年少时,我做过两朵花的信使

身体装满了颤抖的花粉。

有一种繁衍惊天动地,

我爱过它的短暂,也爱过它的鲜艳。

现在我热衷于飞花令,在一株株植物间

传递幸福的信念。

蒲公英,野茼蒿,芨芨草,都被我起了新的名字

它们是我的父母兄弟。

 

A Prayer for Flying Flowers

 

The flying of flowers is a mobilization of beauty,

Meaning one corn forest hijacking another one.

It occurs to me when I was young, I acted as the messenger of two flowers

With my body filled with quivering pollen

There wasanearthshattering multiplication,

Whose brevity and brightness I loved so much.

NowI’m keen on the game of flyingflower, spreadinghappy beliefs

From plant to plant

I’ve renamed dandelion, wild chrysanthemum chrysanthemum, and splendens splendens,

All of whom are my parents and brothers.

 

中英文对照诗集•第四辑•我把自己比喻为一枚去年的核桃

Chinese and English Poetry Collection • PartFour •I Compare Myself to a Walnut of Last Year

 

我把自己比喻为一枚去年的核桃

 

去年不远,隔着一座空山

脱了青皮,味道还浓郁

一枚核桃,被遗弃在山上

鸟儿啄不破它,阳光晒不爆它

树木茂盛,秋风也不能把它吹下山去

它与腐叶为伴,空有满腹的香气

我把自己比喻为一枚去年的核桃

坚硬、丑陋,被丢在人间

风把我们雕刻的越来越相似

就像山上的野坟,已分不出彼此

 

I Compare Myself to a Walnut of Last Year

 

Last year was simply an empty mountain away

With its green skin off, andits smell still strong

A walnut was abandoned on a mountain

Birds can’t peck it, and the sun can’t burn it

The branches so thick, the autumn wind can’t blow it down

Accompanied by rotting leaves, its fragrance makes no sense

I compare myself to the walnut of last year

Hard, ugly and alone in this world

We are sculpted more and more alike by the wind

Like two tombs on the hill, no one can tell one from the other

 

我还是怀念老式的收割

 

一片玉米林荒在了田里,

枯黄的叶子在秋风中,发出窸窣的声响。

一片被遗弃的玉米林,让秋天有了挫败的感觉。

种下它的人,像对待一个捐尸的死刑犯

只摘除了有用的器官。

我还是怀念老式的收割——

男人们挥舞镰刀,将它们一排排放倒

孩子们剥下金黄的棒子,而女人们

把一摞摞玉米杆统统抱上车

田野空荡,他们搬回了全部的秋天。

 

I Still Miss the Old-fashioned Harvest

 

A grove of corn lay desolate in the field,

The withered yellow leaves rustling in the autumn wind.

An abandoned corn grove gave autumn a sense of defeat.

Treatingit like a death row donator, the person who planted it

Only removedits useful organs.

I still miss the old-fashioned harvest—

Men swung sickles and brought them down in rows

Children peeled off the golden husks, and women

Carried all the corn stalks to the carts

The fields empty, they carried the whole autumn back.

 

龙架山上的杉树

 

是它引来风暴,

当它成为自己的悬崖。

一个恐高的人,当他仰望,

一生都无法达到的高度,

第一次为一棵树动了恻隐之心。

它枝短叶瘦,戴着与挺拔不成比例的帽子,

内心也秉承极简的纹理。

无数个飞沙走石的夜晚,

他总会想起龙架山上与风搏命的杉树

它只有一条路可走,大道朝天。

 

The Fir Tree on Longjia Mountain

 

It brings the storm,

When it becomes its own cliff.

An acrophobic looks up

At what is more than he could reach in a lifetime,

And for the first time, his heart goes out to a tree

With short branches, thin leaves, a hat out of proportion to its height,

And a heart adhering to the minimalist texture.

For many nightsof dust and stone flying as in storm,

He would always think of the fir treefighting against the windon Longjia Mountain

It has only one way to go, an upward way.

 

黄河古道

 

秋风再也掀不起巨浪

我稀疏的头发,像揭竿而起的旗

猎猎作响

黄河——黄河,黄河在咆哮

站在黄河古道,我变身沧浪之水

这段河堤再无需加固

黄河选择了更温顺的河床

河滩上寸草不生

像遗世情人

要长出苞谷还要假以时日

 

The Ancient Yellow River

 

The autumn wind could no longer lift the waves

Like a rise-up flag, my thin hair

Was fluttering

The Yellow River — the Yellow River, the Yellow River, was roaring

Standing by the ancient Yellow River, I became part of the wavy water

It was unnecessary to reinforce this section of the embankment

The Yellow River chose a tamer bed

Nothing grew on the beach

Which made it a lover-like relic

It would take time for the corn to come up

 

秋日

 

秋天铺开她的远大

给眼前的苞谷,远处的核桃,看不见的金钱豹

喂养秋风

 

秋日慈悲啊

子女们长大成人

她的乳房已低垂

 

她拉扯夕阳,白云和羊群

金色的柿子和落叶

下山

 

Autumn

 

Spreading out her greatness

Autumn feeds, with its wind,the corns in sight, the walnuts in distance

And the leopards that are invisible

 

Autumn is merciful

Her children having grown up

Her breasts are drooping

 

With her pushing and pulling, the sunset, the clouds, the sheep

The golden persimmons and fallen leaves

Make their ways down the hill

 

秋歌

 

除了蟋蟀,瓢虫也在歌唱

声音小到

自己都听不见

 

白桦树是竖琴

芦苇是短笛

枣树和核桃离人间最近

秋风是吹奏它们的人

 

流水在单曲播放

鹅卵石不为所动

水草和浮萍是它的知音

 

高粱谢幕。向大地

深深鞠躬

 

An Autumn Song

 

Apart from crickets, ladybugs are also singing

Their voices are too low

For themselves to hear

 

The birchesare harps

The reedsare piccolos

Jujube trees and walnut trees are closest to the human world

And the autumn wind is the one who plays them

 

The running water is playing in the single

Unimpressedas the pebbles appear to be

Aquatic plants and duckweed are its bosom friends

 

Sorghum is making its curtain call, with deep bows

To the earth

 

露水

 

露水挂在高高的电缆线上

它们紫红色的宫殿

让我更加热爱

 

这是一个秋天的早晨

我信步走向田间

一排排欲坠的露水

使早晨更像一个秋天

 

在露水的晨练中

我看见秋天在放慢镜头——

许多鸟的背影仍在露水中滑翔

这样的情景,我还能想到

南风翻动了书籍

类似露水的追逐,每一滴

都加重秋天的份量

 

现在阳光正好,比心情还好

它照耀村庄、城市

使秋天更美,使露水更象一滴露水

而露水中的收成

宫殿中虚构的美人

在九月丰收的枝头,昙花一现

以短暂表达不可复制的秋天

 

热爱露水,我必须抬起头来

将居所置之高处

让灵魂在欲碎的秋天

做一次深呼吸

 

Dews

 

Dewsare hanging on the high cable

Their mauve palaces

Have deepened my love

 

It is an autumn morning

I’m wandering about the fields

Rows of swaying dews

Add to the aura ofthis autumn morning

 

From thedews’ morning exercise

I see autumn slowing down its camera

The backs of many birds are still gliding in the dew

Such a scene reminds me that

The south wind fiddling with books

Can be compared tothe dews’ chases, every drop

Making this autumnprofoundly heavier

 

Now the sunshine is perfect, better than my mood

It shines on villages and cities

Making autumn more beautiful, andthe dews more crystal

The harvest in the dew

The fictional beauty in the palace

Is nothing but a flash in the pan on September’s branches

To express thisirreproducible autumn

 

To love dews, I must lift my head

Place my dwelling on a high position

And let my soul take a deep breath

In this almost broken autumn

 

车过武汉

 

大雪还在消融。一部分沉入江水

被送到扬州,或者更远的地方

长江习惯了送别

孤帆,远影,碧空,都曾是她的馈赠

现在,她送我一路沉默

大武汉闭门谢客,修炼瘦身之术

我看见黄鹤楼,像一只鸟笼,关上无边春色

“小啊,再小一点,一点点缩小

无限小,比襁褓还小,比病毒还小”

武汉恨不得像地图上的一滴泪,被暂时抹掉

2020217日,车过武汉

像时间从未来赶来,像凤凰在远古涅槃

我一遍遍叨念——

别来无恙,别来无恙……

 

Passing through Wuhan on a Train —

 

The snow is still melting, some sinking into the river

Some sent to Yangzhou, or farther places

Yangtze River is used to seeing off

The solitary sail, the disappearing shadow and the blue sky, are all her gifts

Now, she sends me silence all the way

Wuhan hasits door closed, practicing the slimming art

I see the Yellow Crane Tower, like a bird cage, lockthe endless spring scenery inside

Small, smaller, and smaller

Infinitely small, smaller than swaddling clothes, and smaller than a virus.”

Wuhan wishesto be temporarily erased, like a tear on the map

On February 17, 2020, the trainis passing through Wuhan

Like time comes from the future, and like a phoenix rises from the ashes of antiquity

I repeat over and over again —

Hope that you are well. Hope that you are well...

 

他像一颗瓜子被时间挑拣出来

 

像一台机器,被输入了程序

嗑瓜子,吐皮,吞咽……

他停不下来,

他已忘了为什么要抓起瓜子,

也忘了一颗颗瓜子的味道。

偶尔遇到一颗坏的,他也心怀宽容,

生活也常常遇人不淑。

他像一颗瓜子被时间挑拣出来,

做成了活的标本。

他不动声色,吞吞吐吐

像平静海面下,有不为人知的汹涌。

 

Like a Melon Seed,He Was Picked by Time

 

Like a machine that is programmed

Eating seeds, spitting, and swallowing...

He couldn’t stop.

He forgot why he picked up the seeds,

And how they tasted.

He was tolerant of the occasional bad one.

He often met with bad people in his life, too.

Like a melon seed picked by time,

He was made into a living specimen.

Silent and hesitant

He was like a calm sea, with unknown turbulent flows.

 

武汉长江大桥

 

这一刻的武汉,与平常并没有两样

长江与往日也没有不同

大桥上的车流没有更快

江堤上的行人没有更慢

轮船上的旅行者挥手致意

下午五点,一列火车从大桥驶过

夕阳照着江面。我刚好到达

却更像是送别。陌生的朋友们

正乘车跨过长江,有的南来有的北往

还有一些,坐着船各奔东西

只有大桥在夕阳下一动不动

目视江水一直向前

 

Wuhan Yangtze River Bridge

 

Wuhan is no different from usualat this moment

So is the Yangtze River

The traffic on the bridge is no faster

The pedestrians on the riverbank are no slower

The travelers on the ship waved their greetings

At five o’clock p.m., a train passed over the bridge

The setting sun is shining on the river. I’ve just arrived

Which is more like a send-off. Strange friends

Are crossing the Yangtze River, some from south, some from north

And some go their separate ways by ship

Nothing but the bridge remains motionless in the sunset

Watching the river running ahead

 

我不是王阳明

 

坐在炉火边吸烟

看理发店的老板娘在拨弄男人的头发

橱窗外是卖水果的老太太

头发白了,正在和环卫工人吵架

此刻理发店前走过一个卖花姑娘

她没有高声叫卖,倒像去赴一个不温不火的约会

如果此刻有雪花飘来,如果她刚好喊出“卖花——卖花”

如果此刻是王阳明,也许会买上一束花

坐在理发店继续吸烟喝茶

我不是王阳明

天气很冷炉火正旺

我却不得不马上出发

 

I Am Not Wang Yangming

 

Sittingand smokingby the fire

I watch the barbershop proprietressdealing with a man’s hair

Outside the window is an oldfemale fruit-vendor

With gray hairarguing with a sanitation man

At this moment,a flower girl is passing by the barber shop

Instead ofpeddling her flowers, she seems to be going on a tepid date

Should a snowflake fall, should she shout, “Flowers — flowers!”

Should Wang Yangming be here, he might buy a bunch of flowers

Andcontinue smoking and drinking teain the barber shop

I’m not Wang Yangming

It is rathercold outside and the fire is burning inside

But I have to set off at once

 

坐标

 

我家祖坟被征用

搬到了离家两公里外的公墓

这有点像边段庄的拆迁

街坊邻居统统集中到新修的小区

不知道父亲会不会高兴

从小玩到死的小伙伴又相聚了

我跪在他墓前

被身边的烟火呛出泪水

祖坟不在了

我再也没有机会像他生前那样

背对孟姜女河,面向不远处的村庄

对子女们说

“大树下是你奶的墓,

旁边是你爷的穴位,空的

我的在这儿,出门不用拐弯

上新濮公路,往东走,村子最北头

是我们的老家”

 

Coordinates

 

The land where my ancestralgraves lie was requisitioned

So they’ve been moved to a cemetery two kilometers from home

It’s a bit like the demolition of Bianduan Village

The community was congregated into the new neighborhood

I thinkmy father might be pleased

For his friends from childhood to death get together again

I knelt at his grave

Choked into tears by the fireworks around

The ancestral graves are gone

I’ll never have the chance to do whatever he did

With his back to Meng Jiangnu River, and his face towards the village not far away

He said to his children

Under the tree is your grandmother’s grave,

Next to it is your grandfather’s. It’s not available yet

Mine is right here. Get out of our house and walk straight

Take Xinpu Road, and head east. At the northern end of the village

Is our old home.”

 

意义

 

多年前,

霍老二截肢,

把一条腿埋在祖坟。

很多人都忘了,

这条腿存在,

以及存在的价值。

昨天工厂在已搬迁的坟地上,

平整场地。

霍老二突然想起被埋了多年的腿,

掘地三尺,也没找到。

霍老二向工厂索赔五万元。

一条废弃的腿,

因遗失,再次具备了

某种存在的意义。

 

Meaning

 

Many years ago,

Huo Lao’er was amputated,

Oneof his legsburied in the ancestral grave.

Many people have forgotten,

Its existence and the value

Of its existence

Yesterday the factory had the field

That was once the graveyard leveled

Huo Lao’er suddenly remembered the leg buried there many years ago.

He dug very deep, but failed to find it.

He claimed 50,000 yuan from the factory.

Because of its disappearance,

The abandoned legsomehow

Came into its own.

 

真相

 

他一直在寻找,

真相。

多年后,

他终于站在小学老师跟前

“您还认识我吗,

我就是那个偷手表的学生”

老师摇摇头,当年

他让所有的学生,

背过身,

靠墙,

捂眼,

他从一个学生的衣兜里,

摸出了那块手表。

为了保护,

偷手表的学生,

他放弃了真相——

搜身的时候,

他也捂住了自己的眼睛。

 

The Truth

 

He’s been searching

The truth.

Many years later,

He finally stood in front of his primary school teacher

Do you know me?

I’m the student who stole the watch.”

The teacher shook his head. At the time that year

He asked all the students,

To turn back,

Lean against the wall,

Andcover their eyes withtheir hands.

He pulled out the watch from the pocket of one of the students’.

To protect

The one who stole the watch,

He gave up the truth—

During the search,

He also covered his eyes.

 

到破木村慰问

 

第一户孤寡老人,72岁,有独子,十年前离家,至今音信全无

菩萨保佑,他身体硬朗,尚能种田、喂猪

 

第二户40岁,五年间两次车祸,天灵盖打开数次,无劳动能力,家有疯妻

老天开眼,大难不死。靠救济金养大的女儿,今年15岁,缀学,开始混生活

 

第三户脑溢血,42岁,十几年前得病,口齿不清

我主慈悲,留命一条,还能在家中慢慢挪动身体

 

第四户父亲不在家,母亲出走多年,姐姐拒收我们递上的红包

祖上积德,姐姐考上一本科大学,正带一个弟弟两个妹妹趴在床边读书

 

第五户家中无人,据说户主吸毒,妻子改嫁,抛下独女

人间有情,街坊邻居将其养大成人

 

破木村人丁3000,方圆数里

所访5户,离村中玉林寺,均不足百步

村长说:人各有命

他们靠这句话平静度日

 

A ConsolatoryVisit to Broken Wood Village

 

The first family, an old and lonely man, 72 years old. His only son left home ten years ago, never to

be heard from.

Blessed by the Bodhisattva, he is strong enough to farm and feed pigs.

 

The second family, a 40-year-old man, who suffered two traffic accidents within five years. Having

had several surgeries on the top of his skull, he has no ability to work. His wife is a psychotic.

Blessed by God, he has survived. Raised on welfare, his 15-year-old daughterdropped out of school

and began to make a living by herself.

 

The third family, a 42-year-old man who is inarticulate because of cerebral hemorrhage over ten

years ago.

Spared by God, he is able to move slowly around the house.

 

The fourth family, the father is not at home and the mother ran away many years ago. The sister

refused to accept the consolation money.

Benefiting from her ancestral merits, she is a college student now, and is accompanying her younger

brother and two younger sisters on reading at the bedside.

 

The fifth family, nobody is at homewhen I visit. The head is said to be a drug addict, and his ex

wife got remarried, leaving their only daughter behind.

The human world full of love,the community raised up the girl.

 

With a population of 3,000, Broken Wood Village has an area of several square miles.

The 5 households live less than 100 steps away from Yulin Temple.

The village chief said: everyone has hisdestiny.

Sticking to this saying, they live peacefully.

 

烟与这个夜晚

 

这个夜晚被烟点燃

它与其他的夜晚并无两样

这个普通的夜晚

平凡得就像一包没有牌子的香烟

它不是中华,不是云烟

甚至不是黄果树、红旗渠

这一天也不是国庆、中秋

甚至不是周末、节假日

这个夜晚没有咖啡,没有茶

甚至没有酒精,没有女人

没有麻将、扑克牌

更别说诗歌、音乐和回忆

这个夜晚普通的让人安静

这个世界安静的让人害怕

我只看到两件事:夜晚和烟

这个夜晚被烟点燃

 

The Cigarette and The Night

 

This night has been lit by a cigarette

It’s much the same as any other night

This night

Is as plain as a pack of unbranded cigarettes

The brand is neitherZhonghua or Yun

Nor Huangguoshu or Red Flag Canal

It’s neither National Day or Mid-Autumn Festival

Nor a weekend or a holiday

No coffee or tea this evening

No alcohol or women

No mahjong, no cards

Not to mention poetry, music or memories

Thisnightis common enough to make onequiet

This world is quiet enough to make onefrightened

What I can see aremerely two things: the night and the cigarette

The night has been lit by the cigarette

 

一根烟将时间分为两截

 

一根烟将时间分为两截

我喜欢唤醒剩余的一截

比如一场欢娱,点上一根

把小小的我,推向时间一角

渺小,安静,猥琐

我终于松下来,像一堆光滑的垃圾

那些缺陷正好由烟雾来弥补

现在我习惯,拿烟的后半部分

比喻人生的丰富

正如很多年前,我喜欢拿女人的胸

调剂一首诗歌的味道

 

A Cigarette Divides Time into Two Pieces

 

A cigarette divides time into two pieces

I like to wake up the remaining piece

For instance, when enjoying a good time, the lighted cigarette

Pushes me to the corner of time

Small, quiet and undignified

Finally loosened, I’m like a smooth piece of garbage

Those defects are just made up for by smoke

Now I’m used to comparing the richness of life

To the laterpart of a cigarette

Just as years agoI preferred to spice up a poem

With women’s breasts

 

关上灯,我们是两个红红的烟头

 

关上灯,我们是两个红红的烟头

忽明忽灭

除了猩红,世界什么都没有

我看着你,一点点变短

也看着剩下的,慢慢变少

我的身体由烟雾构成

渺小到无法证明

“把我还给世界,我和你一起熄灭”

我知道你说的空虚,已过于陈旧

世界黑了,储满了油、孤独和梦想

你又要急着点燃

 

The Light Turned off, We’re Two Red Cigarette Ends

 

The light turned off, we’re two red cigarette ends

Winking in the dark

There’s nothing in the world but scarlet

I watch you getting shorter and shorter

And what’s leftsmaller and smaller

Being made of smoke, my body

Is too small to be proved

Give me back to the world, and I’ll go out with you.”

I know the emptiness you talk of is unduly old

The dark world full of oil, loneliness and dreams

You need to light it up again

 

桃源路

 

沿桃源路

从西往东走

又沿桃源路

从东往西走

春天还没来

不知道为什么

总想在这条街上

多呆一会儿

太阳很晃眼

风也很大

树叶都在找角落躲藏

桃源路不知道

这是一种什么冷

 

Taoyuan Road

 

Along Taoyuan Road

I walk from west to east

And again along Taoyuan Road

I walk from east to west

Spring has not come yet

I don’t know why

I always want to stay longer

On this street

The sun is dazzling

And it’s very windy 

Leaves are crawling for corners to hide

Taoyuan Road doesn’t know

What kind of cold it is

 

中英文对照诗集•第五辑•幸福的俗世

Chinese and English Poetry Collection • PartFive• The Happy Earthly World

 

幸福的俗世

 

天黑下来的时候

野菊花格桑花依偎得更紧

只是我们看不到

拿着火把在山间奔跑的孩子们

就是这个夜晚会说话的萤火虫

天黑下来的时候

大山一望无际深不见底

我需要一张床

铺在大山的最深处

 

The Happy Earthly World

 

When it’s getting dark

Wild chrysanthemum and Gesang flowers huddle closer

What we can’t see is that

Children with torches running through the hills

Are talking fireflies of the night

When it’s getting dark

The mountains stretch as far as the eye can see

I want a bed

Made in the deepest place of the mountain

 

春天的另一种样子

――致海子

 

我想在这样的春天结束

铁道边开满野花,有雨,但很快被风吹去

一切都结束了,我的诗句,还能沿着铁路

去我到过,或者想去还没去过的地方

我还想住在高处,一段缓缓上升的坡地

年轻的人们继续我未完成的爱情

我爱过的山水,将再次呈现

我歌颂过的麦地将从碧绿慢慢金黄

我也将在人们的传诵中醒来,并再次长大

我知道春天还有另一种样子

我不结束,春天就会远离

我想在这样的春天结束

与生下我的母亲,我尚未生下的子女

以及我爱过的土地,轮回的四季

 

Another Look of Spring

     To Haizi

 

I want to end up in such a spring

The railroad tracks are covered with wild flowers. There is rain, but the wind will soon blow it away

It’s all over, but my verses, can still follow the railroad

To where I’ve been, or I want to go but haven’t been yet

I want to live up high, on a gently rising slope

The young continue my unaccomplished love

The landscape I loved will unfold itselfagain

The wheat fields I sang of will turn from green to gold

I will wake up on people’s lips and grow up again

I know spring has another look

If I didn’t put an end to myself, spring would stay far away

I want to end up in such a spring

With my mother who gave birth to me, the children I have yet to have

The land I loved, and theseasons that ever change

 

在春天想起雪花

 

春天的时候,我把桃花、樱花、油菜花

种在一页纸上。希望她们在人世

能多呆几天。阳光,雨露,还有触手可及的幸福

把春天布置的更为辽阔

还有一种植物跑出了春天的边缘

你一想,它就不在了

 

Thinking of Snowflakes in Spring

 

In spring, I plant peach blossoms, cherry blossoms and rape flowers

On asheet of paper. I wish they could remain alive

For a few more days. With sunshine, rain and dew, and happiness within reach

Spring extends even vaster

There is a certain plant that runs out of spring

The moment you think about it, it’s gone

 

暮春

 

我在春天选择了衰老。花朵曾喧嚣一时

天空将情人布置在大地上

花朵暂别了树木,像一对露水夫妻

风和湖泊生出最短命的子女,唤作涟漪

大山还在长高,怀抱落潮的水

有人看见春天的分歧,丑陋和隐秘

春天就要衰老

“还未种下树木的人,就不必再种

还在忧伤的人,就不必安慰”

春天在给她的情人写信

我就是它写下的最后一个句子

 

The Late Spring

 

I choose to be getting old in spring. Flowers once flourished

The sky settles its lovers upon the earth

Like a one-night couple, flowers and trees say goodbye to each other

The children produced by winds and lakes are called ripples

The mountains are still growing, embracing the ebb water

Once its divisions, ugliness and secrets are observed

Spring will be getting old

Whoever haven’t planted trees can spare the trouble

Whoever are still sad needn’t be comforted”

Spring is writing a letter to her lover

I’ll be the last sentence it ever writes

 

幺铺的油菜花

 

我们在风中摇曳

顺便把花香送到十里外

你跑了十里的路来看我们

我们不用跑就见到了你

你站在大堤上

把自己想象成了李白李商隐

幺铺落日迟

你能想到的诗句都与我们无关

有一秒你还把自己想象成了黄帝

把沟沟坎坎想成了大好河山

把花花草草想成了三千佳丽

你好像不是来看花的

你没看几眼就开始看手机

看远远的老农在烧杂草

你只看了一小会儿天就黑了

你坐在车里睡着的时候

一列火车曾呼啸而过

 

The Rape Flowers in Yaopu

 

We’re swaying in the wind

Sendingfragrance ten miles away

You come ten miles to see us

We don’t have to travel so far to see you

Standing on the levee

You imagine you were Li Bai and li Shangyin

The sun setting late

Every verse you can think of has nothing to do with us

For a second you imagineyou were Yellow Emperor

The ups and downs in front of you werespectacular rivers and mountains

And the flowers and plants were thousands of beauties

It seems that you’re not here to see the flowers

For what you do next is to check your mobile phone

Or watch the old farmer burning weeds in the distance

And in a short while it’ll get dark

When you’redreaming in the car

A train roars past

 

把鸟儿赶进一幅画里

 

今天我起的比鸟儿还早

我要到顶楼看鸟

我带着一盒烟、一把米

还有一些碎碎的阳光

我看见麻雀飞过去,象剪纸

我看见鸽子飞过去,一对儿

我看见布谷飞过去,布谷布谷

我想把鸟儿赶进一幅画里

让它们在天上

上班,谈恋爱,做生意

 

To Herd the Birds into a Painting

 

I got up earlier than birds today

In order to go up to the roof to watch them

I took a carton of cigarettes, a handful of rice

And some bits of sunlight

I saw sparrows flying past like paper cuts

I saw pigeons flying past in couple

I saw Cuckoo flyingpast, cuckoo cuckoo

I wanted to herd the birds into a painting

So that they could work, fall in love and do businesses

In the sky

 

它把房子建在了一片叶子上

 

在旧州,这颗露珠是新鲜的

几分钟前它还只是一小团雾气

在夕阳与晚霞交接的瞬间

它把房子建在了一片叶子上

等我来住

 

It Built Its House on a Leaf

 

In Jiuzhou, this dewdropis fresh

A few minutes ago it was just a cloud of mist

At the transitional moment from sunset to evening glow

It built its house on a leaf

Waiting for me to live in it

 

他为什么一个人走进油菜花田

 

他为什么一个人走进油菜花田

这是一只鸟的疑惑

也是河里觅食的鸭子的疑惑

还有河堤上迎面走来的村妇的疑惑

一只鸟儿在油菜花田翻飞

它为什么翻飞,动作还这么花哨

一群鸭子游来游去

不知道要把这条河带到哪里

河堤上迎面走来的村妇

会不会先让出只容得下一人的小路

他为什么一个人走进油菜花田

这也是油菜花想问的问题

 

Why Does He Walk into the Rape Flower Field Alone

 

Why does he walk into the rape flower field alone

It’sthe doubt of a bird

Of the ducks foraging in the river

And of the village woman walkingalong the river bank

The bird is fluttering over the field

Why is it playingsuch fancy tricks

A flock of ducks are swimming about

Where are they taking the river

The pathadmits only one person to pass

Will the village womanfirst give way to the other

Why does he walk into the rape flower field alone

That’s what the flowers want to ask, too

 

中英文对照诗集•第六辑•我看见病毒时期的花

Chinese and English Poetry Collection • PartSix • I Saw Flowers in the Virus Period

 

病桃

 

它一生下来,

就携带了病毒。

别说它生不逢时,

黑暗中我依然喊出它的名字。

我愿意相信——

残疾的孩子,

一样来自爱情的结合。

就像今夜的桃花,

它只听命于春风。

 

The Sick Peach

 

It’s been carrying virus,

Since its birth.

Don’t say it was born in the wrong time.

I call out its name in the dark.

Ibelieve that

The child with disability

Is no less than the fruitoflove.

The peach blossom tonight

Only obeys the spring breeze.

 

窗台上的腊梅

 

它辗转了很多地方,

才在我家窗台上,安顿下来。

枝干坚硬,瘦小的花苞弱不禁风。

 

新年刚过,病毒还在蔓延。

它落下第一片花瓣……

春天到了,它必须抽出新的枝条。

 

像一个无助的孕妇,

自己剪掉了脐带,

——用阳光这把刀。

 

The Wintersweet on the Windowsill

 

It travelled around many places,

Before it settled down on the windowsill of my house,

Its branches strong, and its thin buds fragile.

The new year having just passed, and viruses till spreading

Its first petal fell…

As spring is coming, it must put out new shoots.

 

Like a helpless pregnant woman,

It cut the umbilical cord,

     With the knife of sunshine.

 

白菜开花

 

种下它的人,被隔离了。

在一片荒地上,

它有了新的身份——野白菜。

它悄悄发芽、抽苔,

把花瓣献给春风,把花蕊献给蜜蜂。

过些天,它还要把一捧野种,

献给大地。

 

The Cabbage Has Blossomed

 

Whoever planted it has been quarantined.

On thedeserted land,

It has a new identity — wild cabbage.

Germinating and bolting quietly,

It givesits petals to spring wind and its stamen to bees.

In a few days, it will give a handful of wild seeds

To the earth.

 

长寿花

 

高处的一朵花开了,

寓意一个病人,已经痊愈了。

接下来,从高到低,

它还会开出更多的花。

每天,我都会盯着一堆数字,

想象一朵又一朵花投奔了人间。

灾难还没有过去,我们向草木称神。

长寿花不知道这一切,

它的心中,只有冷暖,没有人间。

 

The Jonquil

 

A blooming jonquil on high,

Symbolizes a patient has been cured.

And then, from high to low,

It will produce more flowers.

Every day, staring at a bunch of numbers,

I imaginethem committing themselves to the worldone after another.

The disaster hanging over, we regardourselves plants’ god.

The jonquil knows nothing aboutthis,

And in its mind’s eye, there’s no human world but warmth and cold.

 

铁海棠

 

这个下午,它打开指甲大的花苞,

等一个远行归来的人。

春天有雷,人间有报应,

养花人还在路上,盘算着另外的事物……

铁海棠,铺着我们一无所知的铁轨,

运送它的柔弱。如同记忆

运送土地、荆棘和剪刀。

他爱万物无常的旅行,爱它纤细花茎里

小剂量的毒。

 

The Iron Begonia

 

This afternoon, a bud the size of a fingernail opened,

Waiting for a person to return from a long travel.

There being thunder in spring, and retribution on the earth,

The florist is on his way, brooding over something else...

The Iron begonia is laying railway tracks we know nothing about,

To deliver its weakness, just as memory

Transportsland, thorns and scissors.

He loves the impermanent travel of all things, and the low-dose poison

In its slender stems.

 

虞美人

 

爱情,命,四面的楚歌……

她这样想的时候,已交出一切。

苦难是过去式,在时间的背面,永不过期。

一朵花被分成两瓣,美依然占据上风,

即使花叶蜷缩,花骨被黑暗灼伤,

也保持它最初的力。

 

一如出鞘的剑恋着偏锋,

我恋着汹涌的人间。

一场床事,适合被反复临摹,

它的怒放就是喷溅,

当它凋落,便再也不会凋落。

 

Corn Poppy

 

Love, life, and besiegement at all sides......

Thinking this way, she has given up everything.

As what has gone with the wind, suffering never expires on the other side of time.

A flower divided in two, beauty still prevails.

Despite its curling leaves and bones burned by the dark,

It retains its original strength.

Just as a sword out of its sheath loves the slant,

I love the turbulent world.

It’s proper that a sex scene be repeatedly copied.

Its bloom is a splash.

When it withers and falls, it’ll never fade.

 

油菜花

 

它铺着往年的金黄,在同一片山坡上,

认不出故人。

我知道它不比往年,其实春风,

只是吹动了鲜艳的部分。

灰色一动不动,像冬日留下的心病。

枯树和杂草相间其中,

有的已死去,有的正返青。

像一本欢乐之书,突然打开忧伤的章节——

我们已如此熟悉,却不能同行,

当我靠近,仍沾上一身花粉。

铁轨还躺在山坡下,久不听轰鸣。

几只公鸡在花间觅食,我学着其中一只,

头向前伸了伸……

 

The Rape Flower

 

Covering the same hillsidewith the gold of the previous years

It can’t recognize its old friends.

I know, not exactly the same as before, only its bright parts

Are blown up by the spring breeze.

Gray remains still, like asore concernleft by winter.

Dead trees and weedsscatter here and there,

Some dead, some turning green.

Like the sad chapterof a book of joysuddenly unfolded—

We know each other so well, but we cannot walk together.

When getting close, Istillget pollen on myself.

The rails still lie at the bottom of the hill, no roars to hear for long.

Several roosters are foraging among the flowers, andI imitate one of them,

By putting my head a little forward ...

 

武汉樱花

 

当你说起武汉的樱花,

她已羽化,像一万只小手,

揉碎春天的江面。

一个人从梦中醒来,便不敢再睡,

他已经错过桃花,便不想,

再错过樱花。

他挖一锹土,葬了女子

他挖一锹土,种了樱花

他挖一锹土,埋了屠刀

当你说起武汉的樱花,

他不愿从梦中醒来,

他信着异国佛,爱着身后事。

 

The Cherry Blossoms in Wuhan

 

When you talk about the cherry blossoms in Wuhan,

She has feathered out, ten thousand little hands

Crumbling thesurface of the river in spring.

A man waking up from a dream dares not fallasleep again.

Having missed the peach blossom, he won’t

Miss the cherry blossom.

He dug a shovelful of earth and buried the lady.

He dug a shovelful of earth and planted cherry blossoms

He dug a shovelful of earth and buried the butcher’s knife

When you talk about the cherry blossoms in Wuhan,

He is unwilling to wake up from his dream.

He believes in foreign Buddha and lovesthe afterlife.

 

七姊妹

 

它在风中摇摆,并不是醉了

也不是被谁征服。

七姊妹,像我们小时候,依偎在母亲身旁,

小心守护一株茎干。越来越单薄的花,

它行将枯萎,它已经枯萎,风吹,

动一动。再吹,

它就要跌下来,来不及看一眼

这个摇摇欲坠的家。

 

Seven Sisters

 

Swaying in the wind, it isn’t drunk

Noris it conquered.

As wenestled against our mother when we were very young

Seven Sisters guardthe stem carefully.Thinner and weaker,

Withering and dying, it makes a slight move

When the wind blows. Again the wind blows,

It’s about to fallbefore it has time to cast a glance

At this crumbling home.

 

刺梨花

 

我把它搬至四月,命令它早些开放。

去年它尚年幼,不懂得灿烂。

像一个人不懂悲伤,写下草率的句子。

它开出红色的花,也开出一蓬荆棘。

一个人向往幸福,也向往苦难。

这就不难理解,我总是比别人多一轮落日。

我目送它渐行渐远,

像我最小的情人。

 

The Thorn Pear Flower

 

I moved it to April and ordered it to bloom early.

Last year it was too young to understand brightness.

Just as a person ignorant of sadnesswrites sloppy sentences,

It produces red flowers, as well as a canopy of thorns.

One yearns for both happiness and suffering,

Which makes sense that I always have one more sunset than others.

I watch it go farther and farther,

Like my youngest lover.

 

无名花

 

一些植物,像似曾相识的人,

叫不出名字。

我就是这样爱尘世。

爱那些不确定的确定,不荒唐的荒唐。

我和它站在一起,已经放弃了,

更多的枝叶。

我也放弃了悲伤,那些叫不出名字的花

都与我无关。

 

The Unknown Flowers

 

Some plants, are like people that have a ring of déjà vu,

But I can’t name them.

That’s how I love this world.

I love those uncertain certainty and reasonable absurdity.

Standingwith it, I have given up

The extra branches and leaves.

I’ve also given up sadness, and those unknown flowers

Have nothing to do with me.


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  【三泉简介】三泉,出生于河南卫辉,现居贵州。“以商入世,以诗出世”,出版有诗集《寻找站牌》《云彩草书的丰沛》(合集),作品散见《诗刊》、《诗歌月刊》、《飞天》、《深圳诗歌》、《诗潮》、《诗林》、《延河》、《大河》、《中国诗歌》等。2021年中诗网年度诗人、  2021年诗歌周刊年度诗人、2021世界诗歌网年度创作奖。

 

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