Li Yiliang: Age

　　Age
　　　(To “Little Fish”)
　　　　　　　　　by Li Yiliang　　tr. Fan Jinghua
It is at this age
Poets write you one poem after another
And you do not know sneer yet

The day you’ve learn how to sneer
You will be old
Be you twenty or sixty
　　　　　　Nov. 17, 2009


　　年龄
　　　——给小小鱼
　　　　　　　　　李以亮　

是这样的年龄
诗人们纷纷给你献诗
而你还不会耻笑

等到学会耻笑的时候
小小鱼，你就老了
无论二十岁还是六十岁
　　　　2009/11/17

　　Let’s suppose this “Little Fish” is the speaker’s teenage daughter, at an age when so called poets would write poems to please her and please themselves. Let’s suppose that “Little Fish” is someone even poets may degrade themselves by pleasing her and degrading poetry. Does or will “Little Fish” learn that poetry is not to please one person, especially not by so many poets who write one poem after another for one person even that person is herself. Yes, when she learns this, she will be too wise to be fooled by that kind of “sneerable” poets. How about the poet who write this poem for “Little Fish”? I love reading this poet, Li Yiliang, from the central provincial capital Wuhan on the mid-stream of the Yangtze River.

Fan Jinghua: Winter Sun and Beyond

　　　Winter Sun and Beyond

The sunlight is fine, and under the reflection of brown glass shutters,
The usually dusky corner of my room becomes lighter, as if lightened by itself.
I’ve taken my mattress to the corridor, and I can expect
Tonight I will breathe in the erotic dry odor of sunlight, unable to sleep
Or able to dream of the vernal season, sans your scent.
Now, I am listening to Bach’s well-tempered clavier, and think of
The old Chinaberry in front of the house I was born. What can I write about it?
Those inedible dates hang on the forgotten top, lonely together,
Glittering under the winter sun. If I can write words as simple and blunt,
I may be a much happier person, unbent as sunlight.
The snow-patches wait quietly in the field for the sun to go west
So that they will melt, with or without anyone to watch.
Afterwards, there will be green on the roadside, and then there will be
People who are confined to the grass-lined white path, lauding the summer.
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Nov. 25, 2009


　　　冬阳以及之后

天气晴好，棕色窗玻璃的折射
令室内荫蔽的地方也暗自亮了一些。
我将席梦思戗在廊下，可以期待
今夜，我将会呼吸着干燥刺激的阳光味，不能入眠
或者可能做春日的梦，而没有你的味道。
此刻，我听着巴赫的平均律；想到我出生的房子，
那门外有一棵苦楝树；关于它，我能写出什么？
楝枣子明晃晃地挂在峭寒的枝头，孤零零地一小撮，
偶尔闪碎碎的光，而无人在意；假若我能写出
与它们一样朴素直白的话，我会变成一个更开怀的人，
犹如阳光没有弯曲，所以冬天的田野上
积雪的补丁，静静地等着日头的转移，寂寞地化掉。
这之后，小路的边将开始泛起绿晕，再之后，路人
被郁郁的青草习惯性地限制于一道白，赞美着盛夏。
　　　　　　　　　　2009年11月25日

Plath: Little Fugue

Sylvia Plath Collected Poems
No.158

　　　Little Fugue

The yew's black fingers wag;
Cold clouds go over.
So the deaf and dumb
Signal the blind, and are ignored.

I like black statements.
The featurelessness of that cloud, now!
White as an eye all over!
The eye of the blind pianist

At my table on the ship.
He felt for his food.
His fingers had the noses of weasels.
I couldn't stop looking.

He could hear Beethoven:
Black yew, white cloud,
The horrific complications.
Finger-traps---a tumult of keys.

Empty and silly as plates,
So the blind smile.
I envy the big noises,
The yew hedge of the Grosse Fuge.

Deafness is something else.
Such a dark funnel, my father!
I see your voice
Black and leafy, as in my childhood,

A yew hedge of orders,
Gothic and barbarous, pure German.
Dead men cry from it.
I am guilty of nothing.

The yew my Christ, then.
Is it not as tortured?
And you, during the Great War
In the California delicatessen

Lopping the sausages!
They color my sleep,
Red, mottled, like cut necks.
There was a silence!

Great silence of another order.
I was seven, I knew nothing.
The world occurred.
You had one leg, and a Prussian mind.

Now similar clouds
Are spreading their vacuous sheets.
Do you say nothing?
I am lame in the memory.

I remember a blue eye,
A briefcase of tangerines.
This was a man, then!
Death opened, like a black tree, blackly.

I survive the while,
Arranging my morning.
These are my fingers, this my baby.
The clouds are a marriage dress, of that pallor.
　　　　　　　　　　2 April 1962

普拉斯《诗全编》
第158首

　　小赋格

紫杉的黑手指摇摆着；
冷冷的云朵从上方行走。
聋子和哑巴就这样
给瞎子发出信号，但都被忽视。

我喜欢黑色的申述。
此刻，那云的特征——无！
白得像一只全白的眼！
船上，盲钢琴师的眼睛

在我的桌子上。
他摸着食物，
手指有黄鼠狼的鼻子。
我无法不盯着看。

他能够听懂贝多芬：
黑色紫杉，白色的云，
令人悚然的蕴意。
手指的陷阱——琴键的骚乱。

空，愚蠢，像盘子，
所以那瞎子笑了。
我羡慕那些盛大的噪音，
《大赋格》的紫杉树篱。

耳聋，是另一回事。
一支暗黑的烟囱，我的父亲！
我看见了你的嗓音，
黑的，长了很多树叶，和我童年时一样，

等级严明的紫杉树篱，
哥特式的，野蛮的，纯粹德国人。
那儿传来死人的哭叫。
没有事令我有犯罪感。

那么，紫杉是我的基督。
它不也同样经受折磨？
而你，当世界大战时，
却在加州的熟食店，

剁着香肠！
它们为我的梦着色，
红色，杂色，像砍断的脖子。
一片死寂！

另一种等级的巨大死寂。
我当年七岁，懵懂无知。
世界生发。
你有一条腿，以及一个普鲁士头脑。

现在，相似的云朵
正在铺展它们茫然的床单。
你什么也没说吧？
在记忆中，我瘸腿。

我记得一只蓝眼睛，
一公文包的金橘。
那么，这是一个男人！
黑黑地，死亡打开，像一株黑树。

我挺过了这段时光，
安排着我的清晨。
这些是我的手指，这是我的小孩。
云朵是一件婚纱，有那种苍白。
　　　　　　　1962年4月2日

Fan Jinghua: Standing in the Car Park at 2 am

　　　 Standing in the Car Park at 2 am.

Yesterday night at two o’clock I went downstairs to take a walk
In the parking lot under yellowish light, where cars crouched like tired animals.
That reminded me of a late return from a concert some years ago,
With my lover friend, and we stood by the car, talking about
How one interpretation about a piece of absolute music could be popularized
And something absolute was named, so that a title
Could finally violate the body, its texture and unique contours.
She’s faded out almost entirely from my life, with occasional emails
Saying hi, with the same old intimate salutation.
I could only imagine the craziness we created and shared.
Actually, I’ve inclined to believe she has been an illusion from my younger years,
Or a fantasy which has evolved into a memory in the present emotion-draining life of mine,
Just like the scene from Larkin’s high window, a perspective
Which I did often take with some unspeakable grudge, while thinking of
A girl, proud, prude and pretty, whom I wooed and failed, for she had fallen
For a man more handsome and mature with what she said “a stronger sense of security.”
That was something at once striking me dumbfounded.
Now I feel even worse, learning that the man has become richer and richer
And she keeps the house intact as long as he sticks to the family and does not
Make her see his women or carry home unspeakable diseases.
I do have her number in my mobile phone, saved as an alternative number of a colleague,
And if it had not been so late, I might have called her, although
I absolutely had no idea what to say except for perhaps
“Oh, sorry! After the second ring I’ve realized it is not a good time and this is not polite,
But you can just say ‘Wrong number!’ and hang up.”
If it had not been so late, how could I have the impulse to call?
I stood by the car-park exit which was a covered bridge over the drainage ditch,
And for a while I saw the water was washing back. So the sea was rising.
That was something given up to time but still time had no control.
When a crazy car raced by the road with loud rock-n-roll, I looked up and found
The waning moon hanging low over the contour of treetops to the west.
So many had been written about the moon in different phases that no more word
About it would not seem hackneyed. I turned my head and turned my thought.
It was for quite a while before I saw the stars that I had expected to see,
And the more I stared into the navy darkness, the more stars greeted my eyes.
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Nov. 28, 2009


　　　　深夜两点站在停车场

昨夜两点，我下楼走走；停车场上，灯光有点偏黄，
车子趴着，犹如疲倦慵懒的动物。
我想起数年前的某个月夜，我和情人朋友
从一场音乐会归来，站在车旁谈绝对音乐如何被某个人解读，
进而被普及，阐释变成了界定，绝对被命名，
终而，标题强暴了原作、它的肌理与它的独特。
如今，她已几乎从我的生活中隐去，除了偶尔
发一封电邮，打个招呼而已，还是用那么亲密的称呼。
我只能想象那曾有的狂热，我们为自己创造，分享。
事实上，我如今已倾向于相信她一直是我更年少时的幻觉，
或者一个幻想，进化成记忆，支撑我情感日渐枯竭的生活，
正如拉金从高窗上所见的景象。那是一个视角，
我也时常取那样的角度，带着难以明言的嫉恨，
想到一个女孩，美丽、骄傲，还正经，我追求很久而不得，
因为她更喜欢一个更成熟英俊的，那男人具有她所说的
“更强的安全感”。那句话一出口，我就被堵得哑口无言。
而今想起她，我感觉更加糟糕，知道她的老公越来越有钱，
而她越来越懂得将家守得紧紧，
只要他不离不弃，别令她撞见那些女人，也别带回说不出口的脏病。
我的手机里有她的电话，保存为我一个同事的备用号码；
要不是太晚了，我可能就按一下键拨通，可我实在不知道会说什么，
也许就是“哦，对不起，响了第二声我就意识到
我打得不是时候而且还很不礼貌；你可以说‘打错了’然后挂掉”。
要不是这么晚的夜里，我又怎么会有与她说话的冲动？
停车场的出口处是一座有盖的桥，建在排水沟上，犹如廊桥，
我站在桥头，看到水在回流。那是海在涨潮。
大海将自己交付给时间，而时间却无力制约海水。
一辆车神经病似地在外面的路上飞驰而过，留下一段摇滚乐的吼叫，
我抬头发现亏损的月亮悬在西边树梢轮廓线的上方。
无论月亮处于什么项位，都已被写得太多，再难有什么字句
会显得不是陈词滥调。于是，我转头，也就转了念头。
过了好一阵子，我的眼睛才看到我意料中的星星，
盯着那深海蓝色的夜空越久，看到的星星就越多。
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　2009年11月28日

Yu Nu: Four Poems

　　So I Think

　　　　　　　by Yu Nu (1966-)　　tr. Fan Jinghua

I want to lead

The life of a seed that won’t sprout

In a glass utensil, looking out

Some suspended particulates and a grain of stone

That is my state of mind. You say

That is soil, that is ghost

　　　　　　May 19, 2003

　　这样想着

我要过一种

不发芽的种子的生活

在玻璃器皿里，望着外面

一些悬浮物和一颗石头

那是我的心情。你说

那是土，那是幽灵

　　2003.5.19

　　In Solitude

　　　　　　　by Yu Nu (1966-)　　tr. Fan Jinghua

When in solitude, I do not like using language.

A bear and a parrot are sitting

At two ends of a see-saw

The see-saw tilts. Many things

Are not to be weighed; I am a bear and you are parrots.

I am this bear, and I do not use

Your language.

　　　　　　　　July 20, 2003

　　孤独时

孤独时我不喜欢使用语言。

一头熊和一只鹦鹉坐在

跷跷板的两头

跷跷板朝一头翘起。很多东西

没办法称量，我是熊你们是鹦鹉。

我是这头熊我不使用

你们的语言。

　　　　　　2003.7.20

　　Inattentive

　　　　　　　by Yu Nu (1966-)　　tr. Fan Jinghua

A few birds are flying over the river

As if the expanse of the water is because of them

As if the wind, wave and the chaos between sky and earth are because of them

I forget this place

Get rid of the surroundings to chase them

　　　　　　　　April 7, 2004

　　旁骛

几只鸟在江面上飞

仿佛江面的宽阔是因为它们

仿佛风、浪和天地间的混沌也是因为它们

我忘了这里

脱离周围的事物去追它们

　　　　2004.4.7

　　To Climb a Wall at Midnight

　　　　　　　by Yu Nu (1966-)　　tr. Fan Jinghua

I climb a wall at midnight

The wall is high, and often I drop at half-way

To the base. My spirit is low and bad, like

A face that grits its teeth

　　　　　　June 14, 2004

　　半夜去爬墙

半夜去爬墙

墙很高，我往往爬到一半就掉下来

在墙根下，我的心情糟透了，像咬牙

切齿的面容

　　　　　　2004.6.14

About the poet

　　Yu Nu (Yu being his family name, 1966-) changed his original given name into Nu (Angry) in 1992, because he wanted to show his despise toward the inertia and low-brow popular taste of poetry-writing of the time. He then started experimenting with what he calls “chaotic” writing. He is considered to be at the front of contemporary avant-garde Chinese poetry.

Fan Jinghua: Loneliness is a night bloomer

　　　Loneliness is a night bloomer…

　　　　And for many, the immediate cause for insomnia is
　　　　which of the two pillows to lay their head

He casts a smiling look at the night flower and imagines an illusion. He is no swordsman.
The light on blades differs in warmth, some inherent, some out of tempering and polishing,
Like a man cannot present a man by stroking his jaw to know the shave is clean and smooth.
Yes, you are right, like the majority of people who are right to believe
Veiled temptation can always prove the everyday truth. But how can truth be proven right?
Truth is to be believed, or proven wrong, and this leaves you puffy and unsatisfied.

For a flower-watcher, eyes go for the shape and the color; if they could transform
Into the color and the shape, there will be undisguisable expression in the simplest form.
That form of unemotional appreciation does not make anyone proud, but has a fatal attraction
To those confident emotional animals, as if it is sex for spectatorship, with detailed rhythms.
When the moans are cut short, all the actors turn to get dressed, going home in cold moonlight,
Out of the magnificent pop-up bedroom through a rusty iron-bar gate, with a pack of takeaway.

What follows is mundane, and excites in an ordinary man imagination and loneliness—
Zippers and buttons are undone again, so casually that she forgets this is undone for herself.
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Nov. 26, 20009

总是会在两种语言之间不知所措（错）。这首诗原本是写了英文，然后放到一边，重写中文《越夜越软》，但是直译的如下：


　　　孤独是一种夜花植物……

　　　　　而对于很多人，失眠的最直接原因是
　　　　　不知要将头放在那两个枕头中的哪一个

他投下一瞥，对着这夜花，想象一个幻象。他绝非剑客。
刀刃之光的不同在于温度，有些内在于材料，有些出于淬火与抛磨，
如一个人摸着下巴，知道它刮得干净而平滑，但这并不能呈现男人之男。
是的，你很正确，正如绝大多数人正确地相信
戴着面纱的诱惑总能证明日常的真理。但真理怎样证明正确？
真理是供人相信的，或者证明其错误；这令你愤愤而不满。

对一个赏花者而言，眼睛冲着形与色；如果它们会转化为
色与形，那就会有无法掩饰的表情，显示为最最简朴的形式。
那不动情的欣赏并不令人骄傲，但对于那些自信的感情动物
有致命的吸引力，犹如供观赏的性，带着细节的节奏。
当那些哼哼唧唧被切断，所有的演员转身穿戴整体，走出华丽的
道具卧室，穿过锈蚀的铁栅栏门，在清冷的月下打一包食物回家。

其后的事很庸常，但刺激着普通男人的想象与孤独——
拉链与纽扣再次解开，随意得她竟忘了这一次解开是为自己。



　　　　越夜越软
　　　　　　　　　Loneliness is a night bloomer, and for many
　　　　　　　　　孤枕是否难眠这个问题才令人难眠

面对矜持的勾引而不能淡然微笑，这样的人也不会笑得开怀；
当然，他更不善用刀。刀光与刀光有温度的不同；
有些来自其内，并非只是淬火和抛磨的结果，
正如男人，两指摸着下巴，知道是否整洁，这还不够。
你没错，像绝大多数正确的人一样正确；矜持的勾引几乎
总能证明真理，只是真理只可证伪，所以你必然愤懑不满。

看花者，眼睛映照着形与色，若那色与形在眼中互换，
如乘法口诀，那么就会有九九归一的表情浮现，想掩饰都难。
那冷硬的透彻并不能令他自豪，却总能吸引自信的感情动物，
似乎那是观赏的性，AV女清洁的细节，有细腻的节奏；
而待那叫声消停，所有人转身就已穿戴整齐，从辉煌的道具卧室
走出锈蚀的铁门，瞥一眼清冷的月亮，各自带着外卖回家。

然后的日常才日常得令人想入非非，且孤独得心疼他人——
所有拉链与纽扣再次打开，随意地，甚至忘了这是为自己而脱，如蚕宝宝。
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　2009年11月26日

Plath: An Appearance

Sylvia Plath Collected Poems
No. 159

　　　An Appearance

The smile of iceboxes annihilates me.
Such blue currents in the veins of my loved one!
I hear her great heart purr.

From her lips ampersands and percent signs
Exit like kisses.
It is Monday in her mind: morals

Launder and present themselves.
What am I to make of these contradictions?
I wear white cuffs, I bow.

Is this love then, this red material
Issuing from the steel needle that flies so blindingly?
It will make little dresses and coats,

It will cover a dynasty.
How her body opens and shuts—
A Swiss watch, jeweled in the hinges!

O heart, such disorganization!
The stars are flashing like terrible numerals.
ABC, her eyelids say.
　　　　　　　　　　　　4 April 1962


普拉斯《诗全编》
第159首

　　　外貌

冷藏箱的微笑毁灭我。
我至爱的人，脉管里有如此的蓝血流！
我听到她强劲的心跳的呼哧声。

百分比与并且的符号，从她的唇间
蹦出，像亲吻一样。
她的心灵是星期一：道德

自我洗涤，自我呈现。
我该怎样去理解这些矛盾？
我衣领袖口有白卷边，我弯着腰。

那么，这是爱吗？这种红色材料
从飞得令人目眩的钢针中流出来。
它将会缝制小衣裳和外套，

它将会覆盖一个朝代。
看她的身体展开又闭合——
一只瑞士手表，用珠宝焊接！

哦，心啊，怎会如此紊乱！
星星闪现着，像可怕的数字。
ABC，她的眼帘说道。
　　　　　　　1962年4月4日

Fan Jinghua: Reading Bits

　Reading Bits
　　碎读

At dusk, daylight is thickening.
Reading The Book of Poetry as a sutra.
And insects begin to join.
　　及晚，昼光在浓厚。
　　读《诗经》如佛经，亦如爱经。
　　虫子渐次加入。

Way deep into the night. Curtains almost overlapped, itching.
A zither by the wall, my fingers glide-stroking it.
Could someone in dreams hear it?
　　夜深。窗帘几乎交叠，痒痒的。
　　墙边的一把琴，我手指一抹。
　　做梦的人能听到么？

Stretching, walk over to the wall of shelves,
Nipping out a folded Heart Sutra.
“No” and “Emptiness” have juice and then I find a postcard from a friend,
Beauty of the calligraphy mirroring the beauty of a mind.
　　伸展着，走到书架的墙前，
　　捏出《心经》的金折子。
　　“不”与“空”有汁，我看到一张夹着的明信片，
　　美丽的书法，映现美的心。

Sitting, I am a wall
To close a cubical space,
Stationery scattered under the lamp like reefs.
All the walls dissolving.
　　坐着，我是一堵墙
　　封闭了一个方格的空间，
　　文具零乱在灯下犹如珊瑚岛礁。
　　所有的墙都在消散。

There are so many different islands on the distant sea,
There are so many different seas.
One has to use imagination, seeing them or not seeing them.
　　远方的海上有那么多不同的岛屿，
　　远方有那么多不同的海。
　　看见或者不看见，都需要运用想象。

Alone and silent, I can hear the stirrings in churches, temples and mosques,
And then bedrooms and kitchens.
I cannot hear a study or a scriptorium.
　　一人，沉默，我能听到教堂、庙宇和清真寺中的微动，
　　接着听到卧室与厨房的声音。
　　我听不见书斋或抄经室。

Reading those words of the past, loving.
Water combing weeds, water combed.
No narcissus, but still reflecting
So many faces
Of mine, at a scratch of a water spider.
Those bodies, of nymphs, words and the abstract,
Sending me to the otherworld.
　　读着过去的字，爱着。
　　水，梳过水草，被梳。
　　没有水仙，可仍会倒映
　　那么多脸，
　　我的，在一只水蜘蛛长脚的轻划下。
　　那些小仙的、字的、抽象之物的身体
　　将我送入另一个世界。
　　　　　　　　　　　2009年11月10日及15日

ZHOU Gongdu: Four Poems

ZHOU Gongdu four Poems
周公度诗四首

　　People with Good Luck
　　　　by ZHOU Gongdu　　tr. FAN Jinghua

In ancient books
There were many with good luck.
If they loved one person,
They'd love till death.

In ancient tombs,
There were also many with good luck.
If they loved one person,
They'd bury together.

　　好运气的人
　　　　　周公度
古代的书上，
有许多好运气的人。
他们爱一个人，
就爱到死。

古代的坟墓里，
也有许多好运气的人。
他们爱一个人，
就埋在一起。
　　　　2009年9月9日 西安

　　My Heart
　　　　by ZHOU Gongdu　　tr. FAN Jinghua

Above clouds,
Between rains;

In the eyes of every young beast,
In the root of every plant.

Inside your rock,
Inside your icefall.

　　我的心
　　　　　　周公度
在云朵之上，
在雨水之中；

在 每一个幼兽的眼里，
在每一棵植物的根系。

在你的岩石之内，
在你的冰凌之内。

在布匹的空隙，
在河 流的泥沙。


　My Understanding of Love
　　　　　　　　--Maybe a fiction
　　　　　　by ZHOU Gongdu　　tr. FAN Jinghua

He says: I could die for you.

She rebuts: could you?
He goes away and dies.

Then, she gets married with another.
　　　　　August 26, 2009

　　我对爱情的理解
　　　　　　――权当作是小说

他说我可以为你去死。

她反问他：是吗？
他就去死了。

然后，她与另一个人结了婚。
　　　　　　2009年8月26日

　　　　Night at Huangyuan
　　　　　　by ZHOU Gongdu　　tr. FAN Jinghua

　　The night sky at Huangyuan, with stars among clouds, tinkle like a heart in love.
　　Walking out through the gate of Town God’s Temple, outside the Gate of Arch, one may count how many beautiful girls pass by. Evening breeze on the summertime plateau has already the breath of ice, but inside the bosom of beauties, there is no season. Their legs are shiny smooth, their necks gracefully contoured, their waists soft, noses luxurious and raised, lips perhaps sweet and honey-dripping.
　　I see them, and wish you were by my side. Under the boundless constellation, I’ll take my time kissing you at leisure.
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　August 13, 2009

　　　　　　湟源夜色
　　　　　　　　　　周公度
　　湟源的夜空，星辰布列云集，闪烁如爱一个人时的心。
　　自城隍庙前步行而出，在拱海门外，数往来的年轻女孩。高原夏末的晚风，已有冰的气息，但美人的体内，没有季节；她们的小腿是光洁的，颈项是秀润的，腰是软的，鼻子是丰而隆起的，嘴唇也许都是甜至蜜的。
　　我看到她们，就想你也在身边；在浩瀚星云下，我慢慢地亲吻你。
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　2009年8月13日



About the Author:
ZHOU Gongdu (1977-) has edited many magazines, the most influential one at present being a poetry magazine based in the ancient city of Xi’an. He has a kind of shrewdness unequalled among his age group, and his poetry, usually written in a language to the simplest which echoes the pre-Han style (Han Dynasty precedes Tang Dynasty), leaves much more unsaid that said. I believe he is also the best poet who can write a kind of soft erotic poetry.
作者简介
周公度 (1977-)编辑过许多杂志，目前最有影响的是《诗选刊》。他具有一种同龄人难以匹敌的锐利之智，而他的诗歌语言通常是精简朴素到极处，令人感到有汉代之前的余味，留空很多，没说出的远远多于没有说出的。我相信当代中国他是将软情色诗写得最好的诗人。

Plath: Crossing the Water

Sylvia Plath Collected Poems
No. 160

　　　Crossing the Water

Black lake, black boat, two black, cut-paper people.
Where do the black trees go that drink here?
Their shadows must cover Canada.

A little light is filtering from the water flowers.
Their leaves do not wish us to hurry:
They are round and flat and full of dark advice.

Cold worlds shake from the oar.
The spirit of blackness is in us, it is in the fishes.
A snag is lifting a valedictory, pale hand;

Stars open among the lilies.
Are you not blinded by such expressionless sirens?
This is the silence of astounded souls.
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　4 April 1962


普拉斯《诗全编》
第160首

　　　　渡水

黑的湖，黑的船，两个黑的剪纸人。
在此汲水的黑树，哪里去了？
它们的阴影肯定盖住加拿大。

一缕幽光透过水的花朵滤出。
它们的叶子不愿我们匆匆划过。
它们圆圆的，平平的，满腹幽暗的劝告。

冷冷的世界因船桨而晃动。
黑的精灵在我们内心，在鱼的内心。
一截树棍举起苍白的，告别的手；

星星开放在睡莲丛中。
难道你没因这些毫无表情的水妖而失明？
这沉默，来自被惊呆了的生灵。
　　　　　　　　　　1962年4月4日

Lü Yue: The Son of Woman Cannot Understand

　The Son of Woman Cannot Understand
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　by Lü Yue　　tr. Fan Jinghua

The son of woman cannot understand
The woman’s ankle bruised by new slippers
He points his plumpy hands and cry: blood, blood

The ankle that is bruised when God tries on the new world
God wishes his own son to understand
But no permission to point at it
Much less to cry


　　女人的儿子不能理解
　　　　　　　吕约

女人的儿子不能理解
女人被新凉鞋磨破的脚踝
他伸出胖乎乎的小手喊：血，血

上帝为试穿新世界磨破的脚踝
上帝希望自己的小儿子理解
但不许指着它
更不能喊



Lü Yue at an old temple on the outskirt of Beijing in Sept 2009

Lü Yue: Sitting

Lü Yue: Sitting
吕约《坐着》

　　Sitting
　　　　　By Lü Yue (1972-)　　tr. Fan Jinghua

All that have butts
And no wings
Sit
And need to sit
Love to sit
Have to sit
Cannot but sit
They sit comfortably, beautifully
Gravely
Securely
And forget that they were not born with the ability
To sit
The vertebrate cannot sit, nor the arthropod
The first time to sit steady
Pays the price of blood
With teeth knocking at the chair-back
And one becomes sworn brothers
With all the chairs
And become bosom friends
With all that sit
Whenever pushing open a door, one’d look
First of all with one eye
For the one who sits
And the other eye looks for a chair
Wishing that all the chairs ogling at oneself
The most pleasing chair will walk up by itself
Asking you to sit down and putting a yellow cushion for you

The most friendly one coughs
Or nods
Indicating that you may sit
You and he both understand
As long as you sit
There are chances
No matter you are cleaning shoes, fishing or biting nails

Sitting is required to write poems
Sitting is required to negotiate
Sitting is required to undersign a mandate
The most wonderful is to sit on someone’s laps
But this could not be long
For he would worry that you might finally sit on his head

To say right or wrong when you are sitting
Is more powerful
Than when you stand
For there will be people running to propagate it
To those who are standing or kneeling
There may be a little inconvenience in sitting
But it would make other hard to breathe

If everyone is sitting
While you alone are standing
There is much danger in this
It would be better that everyone stand while you sit
But there is danger in this too

To walk or run is to search answers
To lie down is to abandon answers
But to sit means you know where the answers are
For sitting is the answer

Dear friends
I remember your sitting postures
You sit beautifully
Securely
Sitting down is an authorized right
Sitting down is a power
From sitting down
To sudden standing up
There is also a power
But that power is still not comparable
To sitting all the time

The most dreadful for the most powerful one
Is for the enemy to take a chair
And sit down in front of him
The only persons who do not fear are the children
Who do not like to sit down

To sit at the street corner waiting for no one is also an authorized right
To sit by a tomb is another kind of right
To sit on a toilet bowl is the least right
Like a reverent monk waiting for nirvana
Is this the supreme right?
To sit on a portrait
In an artwork saleroom to wait for the highest bid from a Dubai man
Is the highest state one can achieve
But what if a child who refuses to sit down
Sets fire on the portrait?

When sitting, the tail is under the rear
And this can modify one’s physique and blood type
So the legs become shorter and feet grow smaller
While the belly and head are turning bigger and bigger
Like those half-bodied family in a pact of pokers
All the vitality and ignorance one was born to
Expands during sitting

One sits down to nod
To count money
To make love
To kill others, to make up
To wait for death
And forgets that when sitting one can fly
With the gunpowder from the earliest dynasty or the rocket of the latest model
To launch oneself away
To a crater in the southeastern corner on the Pluto
And when landing one still keeps a sitting posture

If you want to keep that posture to the last minute
God will bring a chair
And let you sit before him
The rest from His Creation will not object
They would stand, squat, lie face up or down
In the corridor outside God’s office
Their eyes dull
Like a pile of rocks
They are neither sitting nor not sitting
Are they intending to crack down those who are sitting like sitting?
Will they punish all those who sit
And force them to pay tax?
Or to force them to sit in a circle and sing a nursery song?
Are they designing the plan?

Some people sit so straight
As if sitting is not necessary at all


About the author:
Lü Yue (surname or family name is read as /lju:/, and her name is read as /jue/) was born in 1972, and graduated from East China Normal University in SShanghai. She wrote with a very colloquial style, and sometimes is grouped with the so-called "The Lower Part of a Body" poets, but she is more gender conscious.





　坐着
　　　　　吕约
所有没翅膀
有屁股的东西
都坐着
需要坐着
热爱坐着
不得不坐着
不坐不行
坐得舒服，坐得漂亮
坐得庄严
坐得安稳
以至于忘了自己不是一生下来
就能坐的
脊椎动物不能,节肢动物也不能
第一次坐稳
付出了血的代价
牙磕在椅背上
从此与所有的椅子
成了拜把兄弟
与所有坐着的东西
成了知己
无论推开哪扇门，首先
一只眼睛找那个
坐着的人
一只眼睛找椅子
渴望所有的椅子都只对自己使眼色
最热情的椅子自己走到跟前
请你坐下，还给你递上一只黄色靠垫

最友善的人咳嗽一声
或点点头
暗示你坐下
你和他都相信
只要坐下来
就有了机会
哪怕是坐着擦鞋，钓鱼或啃指甲

写诗需要坐着
谈判需要坐着
签署命令坐着
最美妙的是坐在另一个人腿上
这种好事是不长久的
因为他担心你最后坐到他头上

坐着说“对”或“错”
比站着说
更有力量
马上就有人跑着去传达
给另一些站着或跪着的
坐着虽然行动不便
但足以让别人呼吸困难

所有人都坐着
只有你站着
这很危险
最好是所有人都站着只有你坐着
这也危险

走或跑是寻找答案
躺下是放弃答案
坐着是知道哪里有答案
坐着就是答案

亲爱的朋友们
我记得你们坐着的姿态
你们坐得漂亮
坐得稳
坐着就是一种权力
坐着就是力量
坐着坐着
突然站起来
也能产生一种力量
但还是不如坐着
有力量

最有力量的人最害怕
敌人搬一把椅子
在你对面坐着
只有那些不肯坐下来的孩子
不害怕

坐在街角无人可等也是一种权力
坐在坟边是另一种权力
坐在马桶上是最低权力
像高僧一样坐在瓮里等待涅槃
是最高权力吗?
坐在画像上
在潘家园市场等待高价拍卖给一个迪拜人
是最高境界
但万一被一个不肯坐的孩子
放火烧掉呢?

坐着，尾巴压在屁股底下
改变了你的体态和血型
腿越来越短脚越来越小
肚子和脑袋越来越大
像扑克牌上的半身家族
与生俱来的活力与无知
在坐之中膨胀

坐着点头
坐着数钱
坐着做爱
坐着杀人，坐着化妆
坐着等死
忘了可以坐着飞
坐在一把高背椅上
用商代的火药或长江八号火箭
把自己发射出去
降落在冥王星东南角的一个坑里
着陆时保持坐姿

如果你想将坐姿保持到最后一刻
上帝会搬一把椅子
让你坐在他对面
其他的造物群不会发表意见
它们在上帝办公室门口的走廊上
站着，蹲着，躺着，趴着
眼神无光
像一堆石头
似坐非坐
它们是想打击那些坐得太像坐着的人吗？
它们会罚所有坐着的
向它们纳税吗？
会罚他们坐成一圈合唱一支幼儿园的歌吗？
它们是不是在策划？

有些人坐得如此笔直
仿佛坐着根本没有必要

Plath: Among the Narcissi

Sylvia Plath Collected Poems
No. 161
　　　　Among the Narcissi

Spry, wry, and gray as these March sticks,
Percy bows, in his blue peajacket, among the narcissi.
He is recuperating from something on the lung.

The narcissi, too, are bowing to some big thing:
It rattles their stars on the green hill where Percy
Nurses the hardship of his stitches, and walks and walks.

There is a dignity to this; there is a formality--
The flowers vivid as bandages, and the man mending.
They bow and stand: they suffer such attacks!

And the octogenarian loves the little flocks.
He is quite blue; the terrible wind tries his breathing.
The narcissi look up like children, quickly and whitely.
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　5 April 1962

普拉斯《诗全编》
第161首

　　　　水仙丛中

敏捷，扭曲，灰暗如三月的树枝，
珀西身穿蓝色的水手尼夹克，弯着腰，在水仙丛中。
他在休养，肺部长了东西。

水仙花也弯着腰，对着某个庞然大物：
它不停地对这片绿山上的星星说话，珀西
在这儿调养他缝合的苦头，来回散步。

对待这一切，有一种尊严；一种礼仪——
鲜花栩栩如生，如绷带，而这男人在修补。
它们弯了腰，又站直：承受这许多侵袭！

而八十高龄的人，爱着这些小小的群聚。
他很忧伤；凌厉的风考验着他的呼吸。
水仙花抬眼一瞥，孩子似地，很快，苍白。
　　　　　　　　　　　　1962年4月5日

Fan Jinghua: Death

　　Death

It is a dim cloud that falls flat before falling upon me, measured and uncompromising,
Like a gigantic beast, hairy under the belly with a touch of warm white.
I can feel its heavy lightness and its sucking clamps. I try to maneuver my feet
But I am raised in the air. My dozen of feet are racing like blades of a fan,
Useless paddles or wings, and I am under the cloud, sucked tight to it, breathing disgrace.
The light is arching in the east, and also arching is my callipygian love.
She turns, and rolls into a bow, bosom empty, dropping like a coral island.
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Nov. 9, 2009

　　　死

那是一朵暗云，以仆倒之姿扑向我，审慎而威严，
如一只巨大的兽，腹部有毛，还可见温暖的白色。
我能感到它沉重的轻，它吸盘似的夹子。我试图运动起我的脚，
而我已被升到空中。十几只脚在空转，如电扇的风叶，
无用的桨、无用的翅膀。我在那朵云的身下，被吸得紧紧，呼吸着耻辱。
光正在东方酝开弧线，也酝上了我臀部优美的爱人。
她翻转了身体，半蜷成一张弓，空着怀落下去，像一座珊瑚岛。
　　　　　　　　　　　2009年11月9日

Baima Cuomu: Three poems

Three poems by Baima Cuomu
白玛 诗三首

　　I See a Tipsy Hummingbird
　　　　　　　　　　　　　By Baima Cuomu　　　tr. Fan Jinghua
Pushing open the window, I see no hollering blue sea
But a hummingbird tipsy in the sunlight
With its needlelike happiness and needlelike pain. I see
Tipsy hummingbirds anchoring in the sunlight, like grains of sand.
　　　　　　　　　　Oct. 18, 2009


　　我看见微醉的蜂鸟
　　　　　　　　　　　白玛
推开窗子，没有蔚蓝色大海在呼喊
我看见微醉的蜂鸟在阳光里
针状幸福、针状痛。我看见
微醉的蜂鸟停泊在阳光里如沙砾
　　　　　　　　　　2009年10月18日

　　Luckily I am only a tall tale for you
It is said that I only sing on the midnight sea surface, and never have a drop of tears
If I sink into remembering, I would dance, and there is not a single star
Seeing my pain. There is not a single traveler from a foreign land
Showing his unclouded smile. No eyes gaze at the flower of storm in my palm.
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Sept. 12, 2009

　　所幸我只是你的传说
　　　　　　　　　　　白玛
传说我只在午夜的海面上唱歌，从没有泪水
如果陷入回忆，我就跳舞，没有一颗星星
看见我的疼痛。没有一个异乡人
展现他清朗的笑容。没有视线停留于我掌心的风暴之花
　　　　　　　　　2009年9月12日


　　　　Being Present
　　　　　　　　　　　　By Baima　　　tr. Fan Jinghua
Those flowers that crawl and cry on the ground, I am not among them.
I am an absentee, with a snake-like waist, gnashing my teeth
For the spring that comes late. I am also the beloved of gold, disowned
From the whitefly clan. Such a eulogy is enough to cause deafness.

One day, I struck a piece of luck and lost my way. No one ever looked along the road.
Burying myself in the drunken Orion, peeping at language’s hidden arsenal,
Walking past the summer, and annoying winter, and then seeing the unaccountable
Disquieting spring. Even if my mouth is clogged by rice straw, I would say: I am present.


　　　　在场
　　　　　　　　　白玛
那匍匐在大地上哭泣的花朵中没有我
我是那水蛇腰的缺席者，为着迟来的春天
咬牙切齿。我还是金子的意中人，是粉蝶家族的
逆子。如此溢美之词足以致聋

有一天我幸运地迷了路，没有人沿途寻找
埋伏于醉酒的猎户星座，偷窥被暗藏的语言的枪支
走过夏天，又走过恼人的冬天，又迎来莫名其妙的
躁动的春光。纵使拿稻草堵住嘴巴，也要说：我在场



　　　　　　　　　　　Baima in Tibet Sept. 2009


About the Poet 诗人简介
　Baima, or Baima Cuomu, born in Shandong in 1972, began publishing poems as early as at the age of 16. She had been in the army in Beijing, and lived in Jiangsu, Beijing and Lhasa. She now lives in Linyi, Shandong. She authors a poetry book The Messenger on the Way, and co-authors a poetry book We Seven. Baima is a fiercely confident poet, but chooses to key very low-keyed. I believe she is among the top dozen of women poets of contemporary China.
　白玛，或白玛措木，1972年生于山东，早在16岁时便发表诗歌。她曾在北京服役，居住过江苏、北京、拉萨，现居山东临沂。出版过个人诗集《信使在途中》、合集《我们柒》。白玛是一个非常自信的诗人，但是选择一种非常低调的生活，游离于所谓的诗坛。我相信她是中国当代最优秀的一打女诗人之一。

Zang Di: Science of Nothingness Series

Zang Di: Science of Nothingness Series
臧棣: 虚无学丛书


　　Science of Nothingness Series
　　　　　　　　By ZANG Di (1964-)　　tr. FAN Jinghua
Forgive me! I can only do this in absolute
Darkness. Spreading wings, hovering, and gliding,
So dark is every juncture that it can be easily imagined,
And then it returns to its wonderful foothold, no deviation.
My spirit grows intensely focused for I sink too deep in darkness.
I know darkness, like these lions who have forgiven atheism,
And these adult lions who sleep in your zodiac.
All around me, only darkness is primitive,
Only darkness is free from dark politics. Darkness swallows water-tower,
And apartment buildings, and shabby bungalows,
And the small stony bridge, and the small lake at the end of the woods.
Darkness blurs all the boundaries. If you have no idea who I am,
The absolute darkness will bring you an identity.
Forgive me, but there are things that have to be spelt out clearly:
If there is no such darkness, there will be no happiness for the universe.
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　July 2008



　　　虚无学丛书
　　　　　　　　　臧棣
原谅我，我只能在绝对的黑暗中
才能做这件事情。展翅，盘旋，滑翔，
每个环节都黑暗得不难想象；
随后，准确地回到美妙的落脚点。
我的精神因深入黑暗而高度集中。
我领略黑暗，就像这些狮子原谅了无神论。
这些成年的狮子就睡在你的星座上。
在我的四周，只有这黑暗是原始的；
只有黑暗摆脱了黑暗的政治。黑暗吞没了水塔，
吞没了居民楼，吞没了小平房，
吞下了小石桥，咽下了林子尽头的小湖。
黑暗模糊了所有的界限。假如你不清楚我是谁，
绝对的黑暗会给你带去一个身份。
原谅我，有些事情必须表达得毫不含糊：
假如没有这黑暗，也就没有宇宙的幸福。
　　　　　　　　　　　2008．7．

About the Poet 诗人简介：
　　　ZANG Di (1964-) is one of the best and most prolific contemporary Chinese poets. He has just been awarded 2008 Chinese Writing Award for Poetry, the most prestigious literary prize for writing in Chinese. He teaches in Department of Chinese, Beijing University.

Xiao Maxian: Socks & An Empty Alley

Xiao Maxian: Socks & An Empty Alley

These two tiny poems are the first ones that Xiao Maxian takes me by surprise and I still believe they are among her best and the most representative. “They do not imitate themselves, and yet they have already become so much like themselves”. These poems are too elusive to be translated.


　　Socks
　　　　　　　　By Xiao Maxian　　tr. Fan Jinghua
White socks dripping water
Ears hanging down

Necks on clips
Down and out

Not yet imitating, they already become themselves
With a small wind
They are so smug

With swaggering
Unkindness
　
　　袜子
　　　　　小玛仙
白袜子滴水
耷着头

脖子被夹住
落魄样

没学自己就惟妙惟肖
小风一吹
又得意

摇头晃脚的
不厚道

　　An Empty Alley
　　　　　　　　By Xiao Maxian　　tr. Fan Jinghua
Just rained
Limestone slates become sassy
Eyes keen and brows clean-cut

Thin bamboo poles springy
Wet clothes hiding

No shoes hitting it
It dissipates by itself

　　空巷
　　　　　小玛仙
刚下雨　　　　　　
青石板俏起来　　　　　
眉眼清晰
　　　　　　
小竹竿晃呀晃　　　　　
湿衣服躲起来
　　　　　　
没有鞋子敲它　　　　　
自己浪


我读：
“耷”，本意“大耳朵”，一下子将一只白袜子等同于一只大白兔，于是生机顿时盎然，紧接着袜脖子被夹住，简直就是被吊死一样的“落魄”。诗人没有说为何，因为在当今的这个社会上（我们假设有一种“后现代的不确定性”），人的情绪等等恐怕再也没有了可以期待的“恒定性”，因此“落魄”实在可以是一种可消费的情绪。这样的状态自可用自身来界定，无须模仿他人，无须模仿历史，只需要随着自己的情绪就已经是对于自己的一次模仿了。
这令我想到一个叫做Simulacrum“拟像”的术语。这是一种随着时间（风尚）滑动的像，最终甚至连原来的像是什么也最终消失。于是，“小风一吹”，表情犹如橱窗上的滚动广告，令你眼中的afterimage余象还没来得及消失在眼底，它已经又是一副嘴脸了。面对如此“不确定性”的人或事，你如何应对？然而，诗人并没有呼吁什么，诗人生活于其中，和它一样高，看着它，笑。不是人情纸薄，只是不厚道而已。然而这“不厚道”并非什么指责，而是一种新的看的方式；在这种观看中，生机就是美。

《空巷》和上一首所指的差不多。在上面一首，诗人将一只袜子注入了生机，然后让它在风中成为空间的焦点，一个凝聚点。这首诗则反过来，让空间自己成为焦点，诗人抽调了里面本可以成为焦点的物。这诗中的景象多少令人想到戴望舒那首著名的诗，然而那首诗先将个人情感强加到一个视觉形象，然后借助一个无限延伸的空间“雨巷”（也是时间、情感），迫使读者先在视觉上紧接着在情感上与诗人认同。勿容置疑，戴望舒做得非常成功，那是一种古典的方式（当然意义层面可以是另一回事）。
　　诗人在这里将巷子腾空了，她的视点就是巷子本身，“青石板俏起来”，“俏”得犹如女子刚刚抹了保湿摩丝，湿湿的，更映衬出轮廓来了，巷子变成了一个眉目清秀的女人。这是一个很大胆的隐喻，骨肉分明，性感荡漾。这里有一种内爆似的张狂，毫不咄咄逼人；感觉敏锐的自然会感到，感觉不到的，它才不屑于撩拨。它“自己浪”，就是这种状态，自为的/自慰的游戏性。"看"就是参与了美的构建，"看到"使得眼下被充满。