Yuan

一支歌白鹭了黑夜
鹭喙锋利的镢头
刨松了五更的冻辰
鹭翅击水，溅粼粼波光

鹭的目光放大了月光
月光斑驳了鹭羽
仿月的双眸闭紧
羽之昼无声拍打树林

太阳抛出金绣球
滚动青山草垛
云团深入无花果内部
切一盘素心云片
水声里古井在推磨

闯入熟地的异乡人
挟持了原乡人的回忆
路走到最后，突然发现
原乡与异乡的界限消失了

活着就是阴阳，被阴阳
黑子和白子两条鱼
倏然跃出棋盘
各自为对方把脉
进入对方体内
蜷缩成胃的形状
一点一滴消化对方

Whose mask, whose pupa
Who hides in a peanut shell of jazz
freezes its own expression
refuses prying; refuses to reopen love’s old wounds

In the cave of scars
the sound of ripples can be heard by a gentle touch
Dried apricots stick to the tongue taking off
lingering sweetly together
teeth lightly knock under drumming wings

Though proportions are amplified
distance and relation remain unchanged
A ball of thoughts often bounces back
heavier the strike, faster the rebound

The speed of a song
always fails to catch the heart’s warm flow
Avoiding authority
is totally different from avoiding the volcano
Suffocating and burning
you would prefer the latter

天水一色
船帆像蝴蝶轻飞
世界融化于澄明
词钻入波浪的帐篷
从鱼群探出头来

我们之间的对话
不必出自
两个不同的人称代词
当我轻轻说到你
心里就盈满海的蓝色
鸟在蓝色中飞翔
船在蓝色中靠岸
而你的回应
仿佛来自我自己

天水一色
我和你之间的界限
已经悄然消失
我过去是谁不再重要
我现在是谁，将来是谁
都与你息息相关

两种不同颜色调和
两个灵魂彼此赋予
当我说起你
我从你的角度看自己
当你说起我
如同自己对自己谈心

天水一色
两者的分界线
串起思想的露滴
消隐于“我”和“你”

Lying in a room surrounded by white walls
like sleeping in a cocoon where
you stretch your arms upwards
making a flying posture

The butterfly outside the window
is seeking for the flower dreamed of
In the sky of red cloud heaped up
a silver plane passes through
You imagine the falling petals in pieces

Under the showerhead
water snuggles the skin
like the dew on the leaves
White bathtub
a white rose blooms quietly

The white painted window lattice
The white veil curtain pulled down
The door is red
but not a single spark even you strike a match

The sharp sound of car knocks at the door
You close your lips, not saying a word
There is only one person in the audience
and one dancer on stage
Poetry writing is a form of self-entertainment
as glamorous as ice
Fire is looking for an internal breakthrough

Man is blocked by various barriers
Even shaking hands and smiling
the heart is far away
Although the red exclamation mark is still on reference notes
the actor often forgets his line

白色的簸箕
一片黑压压的豆子
你咬噬它们
不是用你的牙齿
而是用你的眼神
用你的呼吸

它们在头脑中烹响
发出香味的爆裂
它们时鲜炒作，重新拼盘
你津液奔涌，从水闸
奋力跃出一条条青鱼
芝麻黑变成葵花金
弓身的莲精灵
消失在一片海市的水域

它们碾轧成鹅卵石
击节，铿锵作响，冒出火星
你听见头脑中的肠蠕动
一只只蝌蚪孵化出来
一条条蛇盘结
哦，这黑色的千手观音
为你摘取苹果、无花果
金杏、银杏、梅子

你的新大陆
你的诺曼底登陆
你的鲁滨逊漂流记
你的爬行的符咒
你的雨的母体
你的你，你的我，你的你我

Tell me
one hundred days plus one hundred nights
will the sum of them be more than two hundred?
In a song, the sun and the bitter wormwood
when blended, will ignite the heart?
The singer’s eyes are closed
Is he on the way of melody
or sweats in the street outside the melody?

The magic of years
can soar as fireworks once mouth is opened
You sing, then get closer to the constellation
Words whip, the shining horseshoes
bloom moth orchids from the heart sky
Sleepy stars are nearby
just between every twinkle and smile of clouds

The song is all your belongings
A trace of tears, is able to
do Midas touch, too beautiful to be sad
The footsteps of fate cross the heart
The ancient well is surrounded by locust trees
the bucket just goes down
the moisture come out from singer’ lip

从阳台抛下撕碎的纸片
一群白鸽噗噗飞走
乡愁是易碎的
生命也是易碎的

一头牛垂着黑色沉默
被一柄尖刀割下头
当夜的皮被剥开
一个猩红的世界凸现

泪水和无力的挣扎
大地把悲哀埋进深邃
第二年春天
在血浸透的地方
长出绿油油的麦子

风吹过的时候
麦秆发出牛的呻吟
麦芒张开牛的愤怒
唯有风听见了

战争留下的铁丝网
扎进大地的皮肤
但是大地像沉默的牛
始终不发一言

A small and artful gear
ticking in the stopwatch
Your life is scratched by the second hand
In the popping sound of balloon
comes out the baby crying

The city’s night sky
enters into the light and stars
stroking the calendula in memory
over and over again
Phone calls coming one by one
Gear sits tight as a mountain
Eyes reflect twilight of the dawn

In curfew of the temple
a long-legged mosquito flies
Your gear enters another time
discovering the ancestral pendulum on the wall
whose head shaking is getting slower and slower
Red-paint wooden chair
and used bronze mirror, though rising in value
cannot get into your internal storage
and the virtual room where you once stayed in

You go deep into our whisper
We communicate by your pattern
What is the bird on the branch saying?
What are the buds in the garden expecting?
You turn a blind eye, or disregard
with another throb
open the music score, make the chicken soup for the soul, and put on makeup

The completed manuscripts never worry about getting wet
My hands, my body, and my thinking
are weaved into your complexity, your precision
and become my weakness. I start to
become the digit the gear has walked through
be followed by another digit, and trampled to death

在咀嚼的亮点你谈论美食
至于高山反应
你认为已经通过爵士宣言
在美酒加咖啡的眩晕中
一路摇滚下山了

在峰顶你是名副其实的座上客
从不担心松林的肩椎盘突出
比起岩洞的风化和钙化
这样的风景已算柔和多了

许多年前的反抗岁月
你书包里有一本齐克果日记
现在，你的下一代也开始反抗了
闪着电子设备的卧室墙上
戴贝雷帽的格瓦拉
瞪着一双炯炯有神的眼睛

俯视历史的沉渊
水面时而清澄时而浑浊
依时代的角色而定
八月的恍惚中
一双龙眼突如其来变成鱼眼
再变回去，也不是没有可能的

The wall of time collapses in sunshine
Picking up fragments of wind, so reluctant to believe
the eve is what remains between us
Again you ask if we are leaving
Still you are answered by tiny sound of sandglass

Then please take away
the wandering shadow in a song
You cannot blow out candlelight in the apple of eyes
unless the tongue of autumn stops stretching out to summer

Luminosity and umbra alternate on your face
glittering the ruddy of distance and the blue of tranquility
The restless expression in my eyes is like a pair of bats
circling over your silent lips

Rows of footprints come out through palm trees
The sand beach of emotion has been ploughed, soft and fresh
There is a secret hiding in the mouth of Bird-of-Paradise flower
A flurry of plucking strings reveals plots in my dream
The look surges with arpeggio
like ocean tide raiding through my pen point

In the hotel room, the telephone ring
is dyed to gold by the sail of sunset glow
Hanged up, I see you lying on the hammock outside the window
On your forehead, the last night moon I dreamed is burning