Month: April 2017

山林奔涌
夜黑吐出焦味
火的红鸟在山上飞

白烟升腾
女巫们穿着小红鞋
热烘烘从山上走下来

天书的卷轴打开
在关于末日的章节
模糊不清的一段黑字
被几道红笔划线

梦中的一场山火
从黑烟的水里
翻腾起一条红鲤鱼
咬断你的鱼线
将你拖入水中

你不由自主
吐出一圈圈红泡泡
清晨醒来点数时
只剩下一个太阳
仿佛从未有开始
也从未有结束

Burning remains in a messy room
A car chugs away downstairs
A cello joins the song by the horn
The reflective hallway floor is long
On the soft-soled shoes a shadow is distinct

Excavating in the dry river bed
At empty crossroads
looking for something from nothing
looking for the feeling of seeking, footsteps
become more energetic, more purposeful

The flute of melodious memories
delivers years-old breeze
At that time, you were wandering
on the wet streets and gray cement floor
The gale outstretched its sharp claws
scratching your apple-greened chest

There are no intentions to hang around with old symbols
The sun hopes for consolation and
meets the jingle of a cold iron door
Returning to origins is always an imagination
a metaphysical regression
or a private flight by air
A bee returns to the original flower
only to brew honey from another

But never say it is all completely distorted
never say goodbye or farewell
Simply say there is still a long way
The smooth corridor in the hotel
does not represent a road outside
Between this door and that door
between this heart and that heart
all is sealed

时间久了你就会承认
追踪大于随众
天音富于弹性的碎步
不是鱼群的广场舞
只有当海浪成山
你才能真正理解排山倒海

现在是第二乐章慢板
一切复归于宁静
期待成为自然
可以想象童年的磨坊
迟缓绕过弯弯小河
电影开始的时候
大多数人坐在银幕正面
你坐在反面

写诗的人常说
不是人写诗，是诗写人
套用此句型，还可以说
不是人磨墨写字
是字披一身墨衣写人

还可以说，某件事
是附身的神灵所为
自己不过借其一副皮囊
一双并非木偶的手脚

至于如何证伪
如何区别异化与化异
仍然只能套用老话：
凡此可意会，不可言传

在经验意识流河边
我们言说的前人已说
但我们的开口
总是留有自己的唾沫味
或者古龙香水味

Life often changes due to an unexpected event
Maybe a yellow chicken laying eggs
will not get your attention
but a yellow balloon drifting in sight
you must not miss this opportunity

An old century
the egg hatched is an opportunity
You often crack out of the shell
gaining a new life every time
In the last days
you stand on the beach watching the sunset
thinking of yourself at what time
and what space to once again break the shell

A word rolls in your heart
like a bee buzzing flying
the motive to find flowers
is attached to the motive of next time and space
maybe from another word
maybe out of the flowers themselves

The flower bud specifies the nature of bees
What defines your nature
Your nature and the nature of bees
are overlapped in which aspect

This is the task for a word
Not only rolls together with its comrades
heaping a big snowball
but also rolls together with strangers
Not try to find a common ground and leave the difference
rather seeking both common ground and difference

Words combinations, connections, and clusters
Broken words can hold integrity, the integrity of a word can be broken
Those opening up the situation may be the words
also may be the opportunity of non-word’s words

You surf in a word
nervous and proud

复活节的清晨
倏地跳转到康德的午后
每日三点钟的准时散步
是否真的风雨无阻？
身后，是否总跟着仆人老兰培
准时到刻板，刻板到严谨？

长着鹅毛管的书桌
没有空调的夏天汗水淋漓
这跟纯粹理性批判成正比？
冬日白皑皑的美学
如何演变成绿油油的乐剧？

在这之前的日子
你总感到判断力出了问题
踏着文字编结的天梯
一步一步地向上
攀援至天使站立的针尖
需要多少时间和力气？

而现在，一切都是突发式的
死角突然闪出一个亮点
心结突然解开，甚至只须
听一遍马勒的第二交响曲
就能一脚跨入复活节
紧闭的大山就轰然开启
被禁锢的就轻盈地走出来
无论是被时间禁锢的
还是被社会势力禁锢的

坟前的青草盎然到飞絮
沉默一跃为鸣笛
春天从冬天的坟墓跳出
曾经的冻疮长出花苞
所有的这一切
虽然轻易就轮回到钟表的刻板
但在这之外的历史
从来就不是按部就班的

So eager for dawn
you derive that in the previous life
you were a small bird
When you spend all your life in human form
murmurs in your heart:
it is time to go home

Not going back to the bird’s nest
but to the blue sky above skyscrapers
to the early morning, the clouds beyond dust
to the days on the pillow of refreshing breeze
departing from the room where air clashes to fire
and wandering lightheartedly

No longer thinking of how to satiate a child
You are hovering counterclockwise
getting increasingly closer to the past
and eventually return into a child

Stretching your body on the wing of music
and becoming more and more feather-like
Beneath the wings
you clearly see every musical instrument
the drumhead of time, chords and holes
the tremor of baton
a newborn childhood in the orchestra
shining like a mirror
You are becoming transparent in it

You will bear out the happiness and suffering of your life
writing the story of the beginning and the end
into plump and soft clouds
and preparing rain for the earth

Standing on a boulder
looking down at the world you have lived
but refusing it as your coffin
Because in a previous life, you were a bird
and the universe is so great

文字生涯的冬天何其冷
夏天又何其热，而且
一个人独走钢丝
走稳了没有人喝彩
走闪了没有人同情

一旦涉及漫长
就不能不想到普鲁斯特
追忆似水年华，分分秒秒
每一分的指针都悬着一柄剑
乃至壮士断腕
不仅截肢历史的麻木
也超越意识与存在命题
如果目常斜视
怎能看见骨精的走失？

跟踪笔端的行迹
一种行为车裂为二
成为两列车，两条相反跑道
沉溺于过去是一种迷醉
凝止于现在是一种煎熬
它们同附一体
下笔成为一场发作的毒瘾
理疗与刑罚比肩拉锯

但是列车既已开动
时光隧道就设立好站台
你总能在某个车站下车
三餐和睡眠之间
明晃晃空着些座位
你在一个角落拘挛着身子
用时间衡量，此在
是否应使用现在进行时
抑或在逝去的年华之水
泛舟荡桨
揽一面水镜实现自己？

The setting sun sliding between two eucalyptuses
like a yolk falling into a fuscous porcelain bowl
A window is opened on the night by dream, dimly revealing
the blinking eye pupil of the moon

Seven fairies suddenly appear in moonlight
swinging the long sleeves to approach a wooden hut
The river water touched by sleeves, those silky words
gently hold the bateau damaged by sharp stone

The river is like a white snake that crimps
and silently vanishes into deep brushwood grass
In the shadow of wavy willow on bank, a song hesitates

In the gaze of dawn, the horse hoof of a song
the white skirts of fairies drawn down from horseback
all cluster around the light of river wave and gradually disappear

呼吸破开的静谧
在地下的幽居绽放青兰
头上星星的渡轮
正逐波于银河的激流

我的睫毛
鲤鱼般跳动了一下
顿时，灵魂的另一头
发出微妙的回声
我感觉冥河的岸边
一朵浪花已跳上岸
骑士的马匹饮着河水

债务仍然在持续
但今天是一个放风的日子
父亲打开冥府之门走出
我打开梦之门走出
只要道路相通
就一定能够相遇

在今天这样的日子
一切都会暂时勾销
包括那些内疚
那些错过的机会
那些未能当面说出的话语

夜转黎明之时
一轮月亮弯身向一颗星星
你仍然像当年那样
对我的话凝神倾听

No matter how today takes stock of time
No matter it towards left or right
up or down
the racing between you and that shadow
has reached a critical moment

At first you do not worry
thinking the distance can cover everything
That bulky black bear
is still on the other side of the river
But before long
you hear the sound of tedious water
Bear shadow appears
from vague to clear

At the moment it does not run to you
but springs toward a different direction
The camera lens moves closer
like peeling an onion
layer by layer, and finally arrives at the center
That is the old house you are familiar with
You hear the sound of Father’s cough

Now, the distant scene zooms into a close-range
You start to panic, losing your head
The once very strong castle
is being surrounded by the infusion tubes and needles
by the smell of the ward
You see dust off the wall
Oxygen tube blocks the door of the castle

You start to dash
turning back from the holiday resort
quickly books the tickets
In the porthole of the flight
you look at how the airframe moves
how it accelerates and reaches the sky from the ground
However, this time you are no longer the hawk spreading your wings
but an ant hanging in the air at heart

Racing with the shadow of death
To beat the black bear
rush into the ward, shaking hands with Father
seeing him off to another world