Fan Jinghua: Pomegranate

　　　　　　Pomegranate

　　Nightly she sings on yond pomegranate tree.
　　Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.
　　　　　　　　　　Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

Late October. In the twilight, warmth lingers anywhere at your wish.
So you came, a little behind the tartan skirt,
With a middle-aged modesty, along the aspen-lined street.
Eyes filmed with a dark gleam. A sight
In my mind’s eye my eyes ached to divert.
Autumn could not be autumnally bettered.

How come you did not finish the street?
How could it not be ended on a whitewashed screen wall?
Which alley did you turn to follow and arrive at yourself,
As if you sleepwalked through a brown field
That was streaked with silvery riverlets and steaming furrows?
If dreams flower at night, do they bear fruits in the sun?

I heard you mumbling “The pomegranate tree by the old well…”
But dusk is falling fast and I was nor sure
Whether your lips bore the question mark of a smile.
There must have been a thin mist over your half-fledged forehead.
A pomegranate, its navel like a mauve rose in bud,
Resided there like an auspicious bell on the flying eave.

So photogenic! It was a jewel, a souvenir.
I do not need you to spell it out. I do not care
Whether it is a retarded leftover after the harvest.
The bridge of your nose glimmered, vivid like a firefly at dawn
Which I could catch only in my imagined memory
Of a time when I was too callow to pronounce the word love.

Tonight, I peeled its age-speckled rind
And scratched out the barnacled vesicles in the reddish pulp.
The mild acid induces a coolness on my tongue blade.
　　　　　　　　　　　　Oct. 23, 2006

　　　　　石 榴

　　　每天晚上她在那边的石榴树上歌唱。
　　　相信我，爱人，那是夜莺的歌声。
　　　　　　　　　莎士比亚《罗密欧与朱丽叶》

十月将近，处处都截留黄昏的温暖，真是遂人心意。
如此你走来，走在暗绿的格子呢裙子后，
是中年的矜持沿着白杨镶边的街道。
你的眼睛笼罩一层幽暗的光。这个景象
在我穿越时空的心目中久了，令我此刻的眼睛不忍。
秋天，已经秋到了极致。

而你怎么会久久走不完那条老街？
它怎么会没有抵达一面石灰粉刷的影壁？
你拐进了哪条小巷，消失在自己的深处？
犹如你梦游一般穿过棕色的田野，
走进那银色的小溪与散发土温的犁沟交错的画面。
如果梦在夜晚开花，它们是否会在阳光下结果？

我听到你喃喃地说“那口古井旁的石榴树……”，
但是夜色来得太快，
我无法看清你的嘴唇是否弯出了问号一样的微笑。
你半敞的前额上该有一层薄薄的暮霭浮起，
而一只洋红的安石榴悬在那儿，肚脐是一朵绛红的玫瑰花蕾，
像一只祈福的铜铃叮铃铃地挂在飞檐。

那么上相！一颗珠宝，一只纪念品。
我不需要你一字一顿地拼出它的名字，
我不管它是否是最迟发育的果实被人遗忘在收获之后。
你鼻尖上的微光是黎明时的萤火，
如今我只能在想象的记忆中捕捉，
而那时我太青涩，甚至不敢说出爱字。

今夜，我剖开它沾满年月斑点的果皮，
用指尖挖出一颗颗镶嵌在红色胞衣中的泡囊。
淡淡的酸涩在我的舌面上诱引出一丝清凉。
　　　　　　　　　2007年9月6日