Month: January 2018

在中空
法无声地论证自己
黑晕像一团墨汁散开
屏住呼吸的你
从一片湖水湿漉漉出镜

你的耳畔，响起
生者、死者的轮唱与合唱
它们是鲜活的，有力的
只是存在的方式不同
发出的音色和质感不同

循着它们的声轨
过山车晃荡着
挖煤车轰隆着
心跳的多米诺骨牌
并非软绵绵一溜倒下
而是此起彼伏
变成一条色彩斑驳的长龙
与天上的闪电连轨
与泥土深处的根接壤

缘起时时刻刻在进行
有时是喧哗的
有时是无声的
而你学会接受一切
无论它们被染成何种颜色
以何种形态出现于面前

In the silver ring of light
a skirt is waving in the wind
The ring is rolling along
like a hatched egg
The thin shell is broken
out flies a spring swallow

This is your origin
You are from a spring swallow
flying over blue bricks and black tiles
nesting under a low eave
accompanying orange candlelight
and intermittent sounds of book reading

The wind outside, the window is blowing louder and louder
The candlelight is getting weaker and weaker
Your glances are glooming
An orange has been just peeled

Bamboo chair, fish basket, and water vat in the courtyard
A pair of black cloth shoes on the step
A pot of orchids on the tea table
are still thinking of vanished steps
In the sound of a shoved wood door
sunshine enters, swallowing candle shadows
The blue silk shirt on the chair
seems to stand up in the breeze

Eventually all homes are guest houses
we are hasty travelers
in the face of windy years
burning out our own candlelight

Mid-autumn moonlit night
shadows on different streets
walk out the mutual time
like porcelain cups
pouring out the old tea of yesterday
The ring of light begins to close and fade out
shrinking to a bubble
vanishing in the dreams of yesterday
The skirt dissolves into blue smoke

A handkerchief on the laundry rope
droops down gently
and flutters in the wind
like a flying swallow

一个斜体的疯癫写在纸上
你不由自主变成书中人
他的沉默就是你的沉默
他的沟通失败
使你难以完成文化拼盘
难道只能蹙眉咽下
食物刺鼻的异味
流水线加工后的陌生？

一座独木桥上
两具不知所措的臃体互不退让
难以置信，理性的通达
在学历丰满者之间
竟未成功地拔出活塞
放走刀光剑影、腐气浓重的水

你在心里举起的白旗
囿于文化定势，难以亮出去
而你等待良久的台阶
始终没有出现
或者说微妙地出现
你竟然未能察觉，反倒自问：
若不顺水，何以推舟？

莫非幸福和不幸福的家庭都一样
不得不卷入股票或期货市场
受制于上升和下降的曲线
落入技术分析的圈套
像一只允诺挥出的拳头
突然间摊开肉乎乎的平原
掌心凹陷，成一张焦糊的煎饼

翻开书紧跟情节就能发现
肤色、文化虽然不同
陷入僵局的模式却是相似的
无法否认这种发生具有普世性
至于是否蕴含价值
那就是仁者见仁智者见智了

A silent white birch
erects a cross in the eyes
Becoming a mulberry field is the impulse of the sea
You prepare yourself all your life
Which blood sacrifice did you want to be?

You keep retreating into your eyes
Though candlelight is never extinguished
the flare decreases, the flash of eyes
only reach your chest

Wine is giving testimony in blood
like the blaze of that year
challenging time in wind
A red dragonfly
is flying toward the farewell of the sunset

The root of the year reciprocates soil
The summer has been shaded by foliage
After the fall, you will shrink in your room
speaking nothing, going nowhere

A restless bird
is flying to and from in your chest
till your body broken
unthreads herself, going away

How desperately you need music,
strong wine
and an epitaph, and need to
sprout out of the ground like a sapling

对于一条河的邀请
你回之以形而上学沙滩
具象涟漪，一波波清流拍岸
遭遇卵石和细沙的狙击
被掺沙子，凝成抽象的哲思

协调当然是需要的
固态与液体之间
庞大群体与渺小个人之间
甚至一个人的荒唐史
嫣红早期与昏黄晚期之间
都需要达成某种妥协
或者说，一种波澜不惊的平衡

在公鸡报晓时代
你看轻任何形式的生物钟
祈盼拥有一块精致手表
除了忠实地报时
还能为你挣下社会形象

偏见是无法避免的
一只蚊子的嘤嘤吟唱
也许只是自娱自乐的表露
不一定如你诠释的
是一曲嗜血成癖的表演

由此可见，苏格拉底
关于知与无知之间的斗法
完全是回应自己的
与政治失分与否没有关联

Entering the woods
on trunks, the slash of a sword
echoes the wild call of hunting
The broken branch like a finger
The dusk begins to swell
I think of blood, the wound
and the girl clinging to the tree, praying

The root full of moss climbs out of the ground
Black snake twists, moving towards a brook
I do not have a leeway, but retreat to myself
wandering on crossed river banks
and enjoying seeing exterior within

Leaves rattle
Wind whistles
Fruits on trees begin to show metamorphose
Heads of horses, ox, birds, and leopards
poking through leaves and making face at me

I barely hear what they are saying
and don’t know what they
symbolize and indicate to me
Otherwise, I would write a divine comedy
from beneath the root, till
the dawn aimed at by a top of the tree

But this is not Dante’s dark woods where he got salvation
There is neither Virgil who leads the way
Nor the fairy named after ex-lover
leading transcending

I soliloquize all the time
I am my own woods

就纯粹理性而言
新年的新是瞬时性的
子夜钟声十二响之后
所有的欢呼和祈愿
都开始从顶端下滑
时光的铸币破身
顺着挂钟指针
你看到年轮雄健的滚动
那不易被察觉的缺环
听见那咯噔的一声

你多次想抓住
那飞逝之前的静止
那纯净的一刻
那个幸运地被上苍捕获
又不得不放手的精灵
但是始终未能如愿

旧岁和新年传递接力棒
在眨眼之间就完成了
超过音速，跨越视觉
也超过你对时间的预期
在心里画出的图形

什么时候
你也能照葫芦画瓢
一俟抵达自己的巅峰
就从高台跳板优雅地下跳

Young summer night
I always wait on pillow for a rainstorm

Wandering mountain paths lead to forest
Lightning presents mysterious palm prints
Fairies dance in thunder
Our bare arms spread with raindrops
There come the footsteps of Diana
White robe, golden bough, totem

At night, a pen on a classroom desk
Like a flying horse, in the sand of time
steps out ring of paradox of life
The illusions of Apollo and Dionysus
across table are talking about
the spring ploughing in vision
Wheat seed sprouts into human form, plough
overthrows soil, seeking
the meaning of addition or subtraction

Bonfire in the wild is flourishing
Goat, hare, wolf howl
Sacrifice chorus, drumming, feet bracelets ringing
Night splashes ink on the paper of memory
Priests in those years, chant incantations and paint symbols
Abundant new crops brew wine
The deity body in heaven is torn into pieces
Bread is drunk, body blood is flushing

In the full stop of the moon, the shadow of rite of passage
is emerging
female breasts, and male broad shoulders