Fan Jinghua: Poem

　　Poem
　　　　　To Zhao Dongni
Was I offered a poem to write
When you, in response to my desire to learn
From your clarified self-effacement
In a place, a plant or an insect,
Sent me a strange phrase of four characters
And asked me to repeat?
I did, over and over, in different
Combinations of intonation,
Like an illiterate doing a litany,
Until I forgot the pursuit of meaning.
Then I thought of you in the northern coldness
And you take the much-lower-than-here temperature
As warmth, and I am so close to you.
Have I written a poem?
　　　　　　　Dec. 28, 2007


　　诗
　　　　　致DN
我对你说，要学习你
澄明的无我，在某地某物之中，
而你寄来一个四字的陌生短语
让我跟着遥远的你重复。
那是否是一个启示：
有一首诗待我去写？
我一次又一次默读，
用不同的音调组合，
犹如一个文盲复诵祷文，
直到忘记了它们是否有什么意思。
然后我想到你在北国的寒冷中
将远远低于我这儿的气温
当作温暖，于是我感到与你如此接近。
我写下的是一首诗吗？
　　　　　　　2007年12月28日晨

Fan Jinghua: Instant Snapshots

　Instant Snapshots

　　　I
Among the three stripes of summer
The in-between greenbelt is a windbreak
Your eyes are comforted
And the straplesses come to you
Like a flooding crest
And lotus roots under leaves of beltskirts ebb
Away like hooves in race-walking

So many boxes with ribbons and bows
And strapped tags to be signed

　　　II
On the glass face of a sky-piercing office tower
A too big eye winks on the demedicated plaster
Aloof but to every upturned eye
The other eye is a paper screen dubbed with “Tonight Made Unforgettable”
Banners and shiny baubles dangle on the most frigid pines
You walking under the conical skirts
Remember a sneer on a familiar face and a romantic phrase

“the gentlest head-lowering…”


　　　III
That overbridge has two pairs of legs wide open
Like a gigantic beast
Dredging the chaos on the square of a terminal station
The one who stands alone under the elevated staircase
Makes your heart constrict
As if the world is full of living things and he is the only dead

Or otherwise


　　　IV
In front of two bare soles
You see bumps between lines resistant to podomancy
You see the pre-historic webbed feet
If his head is not against the headboard
You would think he is going to swim away

Still, you would die to see him lying on his back
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Dec. 26-27, 2007


　　立拍现

　　　一
夏天的三层视野中
中间那条绿化带或是防风林
是你唯一的安慰
光洁的上半身走过来
齐刷刷的波浪
光洁的下半身走过去
马的竞走

这么多礼品盒这么多蝴蝶结
斜挂着签收的标签

　　　二
那戳向天空的办公楼有一张玻璃的脸
贴着一张没有药效的橡皮膏
那上面有一只大大的眼睛涂满了热情
散发向每一张仰起的脸
另一只眼是一只盒子的屏风，上面写着“你要做到难忘今宵”
她已做到一览众山小
最冷硬的松树上荡着横幅与闪亮的装饰球
你走在那锥形的大摆裙下
想到一个轻蔑的笑和一行诗句

“最是那一低头的温柔……”

　　　三
那座两头岔开大腿的天桥
像一只巨兽
给车站广场的混乱疏通出一种秩序
因此那个独立在梯级下的人
令你的心抽痛
犹如满世界都是活物而他是唯一的死者

或者反之

　　　四
你站在他反扣的赤脚前
掌心有折出来的隆起，你好像看到了
史前动物的蹼足
如果他不是顶着墙壁
你会以为他将从你眼前游走

可是你仍然无法忍受他仰卧
　　　　　　　　2007年12月27日

Fan Jinghua: Bathsheba

　　　　Bathsheba
She had been the wife of someone else
And the king was hoping to look into the distant battlefield
So he climbed up to the roof
Cooking smoke was not yet floating
And a slanting lock of sunlight struck on her luscious body
Water sliding down and her period was over for a new month
What on earth was war about
Her man was brave and loyal to it
Her man had a fate of soldiers
And embraced the walls of a trench
The king took hold of his woman and held her tight
Because of compassion and guilt
Tightening his bottoms like a private throwing a spear
Her eyes were therefore confused, and for the king
She had to forget the front
Repentance had to be guided by God, who never
Descended in person or in disguise but merely sent off a prophet
The message might be enlightening but only lighted once
When the soul flew out of the body
Like an ecstasy
Their son would be the wisest king, and would judge
Who was the mother of a child
　　　　　　　　　　　　Dec 26, 2007


　　　　　　　　　　David and Bathsheba (detail) by Jan Matsys (1562 )


　　拔示巴

她本是别人的妻子
王本是为了看远方的硝烟
而登上了屋顶
炊烟还没有袅袅
斜阳照在她美艳的身体上
水溜溜地滑下，月经已干净
而战事到底为了什么
她的男人骁勇且忠诚于战争
她的男人只有士兵的命
将战壕搂在怀里
王搂到了他的女人，因为钟爱与内疚
而搂得更紧
绷紧了臀股使上了战士投枪的劲
她的眼睛于是迷离，为了王，忘了前方
忏悔，需要上帝的指点
而上帝从不亲临，他指派一个预言师
那寓意犹如灵魂飞离身体时的光
只闪一次
而他们的儿子是最智慧的王，曾经判定
谁是亲生母亲
　　　　　　　　2007年12月26日晨4:30

Fan Jinghua: On His Birthday

　　On His Birthday

This city has streets of water
Lined with gingko brown and gold
After the second instant our eyes meet
Across the flow of manned vehicles
Our hands are left alone to count mileage posts
Of trees and pluck the strings of two enormous harps

We must have come from the sea, upstream
And we have followed a less-popular course

The curbs we each walk on come closer and closer
And it becomes close enough for us to join hands
Then we take the road as if to walk a ladder of waves
Our free hands stretching out to feel their own music

The highest rung we can reach is perhaps a corner
Where city walls join, and we will paint there a mural of sea
　　　　　　　Dec. 22-23 2007



　　致他的生日
这座城市有河流的街道
两边镶嵌银杏的乌皮与黄金
当我们的眼睛隔着载人的车流
第二次相遇，我们的手
独自数着树干的路标，为我们
拨响了两张巨大竖琴的弦

我们肯定是从大海中走来
逆流而上，这条道人迹稀少

当我们脚下的堤岸越来越靠近
终于近得令我们可以携手
我们占领石板的路心，犹如登上波纹的梯子
另一只手伸出去，触摸自己的音乐

我们能达到的最高一阶或许是一个死角
城墙在那儿封闭，而我们将要绘一幅大海的壁画
　　　　　　　　　2007年12月23日

Fan Jinghua: Gloria

　　　Gloria
Looking at your portrait, Bathsheba, I am amazed,
Full of gratitude, to man and technology,
To the machines that bring you before my eyes and are more
Magnanimous than my imagination and memory.
You have come closer to this narrow gate to the one-instant world,
You take the boundless moment of ecstasy to procreate another,
And you become farther from the maddening crowd
That populates the earth like mushrooms after three fine rains.

I am teleported to that dark studio
As if my body and soul were only a pair of eyes
Marveling at the liquid under red light
While you take your form in a fleshless self.

As believed. As expected.
As wished. As granted.

Your eyes come out, deep and bright, but they saw beyond me;
Your cheeks come out serene, and the mouth would never round for a kiss;
Your breasts come out lively curvaceous, but they would never thrill.
Still, night after night in the blessed coolness,
I air kiss your lips, straightjacket myself to feel your warmth,
And gather the benevolence in your eyes like a star-gazer,
Full of aching heart toward all the lifeless processes,
As if I am bestowed and can bestow beatitude and grace.
　　　　　　　　　　　Dec. 10-11, 2007


















Bathsheba (1654) by Willem Drost ca.1630-1680

　　　　荣耀颂
仰望与凝视，拔示希巴，你的像令我惊异
而倾服，感恩盈满而溢出我心，
对人类与技术，对一切无生的机器。
它们恢宏而高贵，容纳着我的想象与记忆，
赋予我灵视以亲睹你的脸从时空幽暗的深处
浮现，来到这瞬间世界的窄门前。
喜庆的彩纸屑纷落后，你占据着门廊，光包裹你，
这一狂喜时刻孕育着另一个广袤，在你背后展开无限。
而你驻停，于是你远离了尘嚣，
将三场细雨过后的大地留给生机勃勃的蘑菇。

在那饱和了红色的暗室，我的视野
醇浓，肉身与灵魂的透镜也染成了红色；
你没有肉身，以圆润的线条拥有身形，于是
你容我进入，容我走出你的时候带着你。

有所信，必有所期；
有所期，必有所得。

你的眼睛显现了，深邃而明亮，但它们望着我的身后；
你的脸颊是两轮交汇的恬静，嘴唇不会窝成亲吻的态势；
你的乳房勾勒出最生动的曲线，但不会颤慄。
然而在一夜又一夜的星光之凉中，我总会
伫立在窗前，遥远地亲吻你，双手抱肩，
拥着你的善与仁慈，在自己的体温中感受你，
感受自己的心不知从何处升起的隐隐之痛，
感受这一切无生的过程中生命如露珠的凝结，
犹如我既承受至福与恩典又在承受中将它们散发。
　　　　　　　　　2007年12月24日圣诞夜 2007 Christmas Eve

Zheng Min: Golden Sheaves of Rice

[China] Zheng Min (1920-)


　　金黄的稻束
　　　　　　　郑敏（1920-）
金黄的稻束站在
割过的秋天的田里，
我想起无数疲倦的母亲，
黄昏路上我看见那皱了的美丽的脸，
收获日的满月在
高耸的树巅上，
暮色里，远山
围着我们的心边
没有一个雕像能比这更静默。
肩荷着那伟大的疲倦，你们
在这伸向远远的一片
秋天的田里低首沉思，
静默。静默。历史也不过是
脚下一条流去的小河，
而你们，站在那儿，
将成为人类的一个思想。
　　　　　选自《诗集1942-1947》


　　　　　　　　　　　　　郑敏 ZHENG Min 1920- Chinese Poet

　Golden Sheaves of Rice
　　　　　　　　　[China] Zheng Min (1920-)　tr. Fan Jinghua
Golden sheaves of rice stand
In mowed fields under the autumn sky,
Reminding me of a throng of exhausted mothers;
On a path after sunset I see their faces with furrowed beauty,
As the Harvest Moon nestles
Upon the crowns of high-rising trees.
Twilight falls on the distant mountains
That hug the borders of our heart;
No statue can be more stilled than this.
You shoulder the grandness of exhaustion
In the autumn field that stretches to the far,
Your head lowered in musing,
Silent, still. History is but a river
That runs along by your feet, whereas
You, standing still over there,
Are becoming a thought of our human race.
　　　　　First published in Poems 1942-1947 (1948)

ZHENG Min was born in Sept. 1920 and she is now hailed as the representative of the second generation of modern Chinese poetry. She wrote and published poems in university days when China was fighting its anti-Japanese war. Her university years was a time when western modernist such as W. H Auden, William Empson had direct impact in China, and hence she was among the best modernist poets in China.

Fan Jinghua: Law of Impossibility

　　Law of Impossibility
　　　　　　For Gloria
As summer is coming
Let’s blindfold ourselves
And prepare to eat fruits only
Tasting their ripening from sourness to sweetness
Let’s hear the sounds that do not cry out for hearing
In the time of dead silence before the sounds implode
Let’s do substitution drills
Such as “A rabbit falls into Alice hole”
Let’s forget there are laws of impossibility
And switch summer with fall
Then we may prove better than bats
In vision and hearing
　　　　　　　　Dec. 18, 2007

　　不可能律
　　　　　致Gloria
当这个夏天来临
让我们蒙住双眼
准备只以水果为生
从酸涩吃到香甜
让我们倾听那些从没喊出来的声音
在所有声音内爆之前的死寂中
我们做替换练习
例如“一只兔子掉进了爱丽丝的洞穴”
但愿我们忘记这世上有不可能律
将盛夏换成金秋
然后我们或许能够媲美蝙蝠
　　　　　　　2007年12月18日

Fan Jinghua: Relation

　　　　Relation
The vehicle speeds up and I am thrown back
It swerves to the left and I sway to the right
It veers to the right and I am centrifugal to the left
When it suddenly pulls up, my hands are already there to buffer
So the vehicle and I balance each other and arrive the destiny together

Even if the vehicle is not you, I am always myself
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　 Dec. 16, 2007


　　关系
车子加速，我突然后仰
车子左拐，我被抛向右
车子右转，我重心左移
车子急停时，我已向前缓冲
就这样我和车子一起到了终点

即使车子不是你，我也还是我自己
　　　　　　2007年12月16日

Fan Jinghua: Distance

　　　Distance
How far are the meditation cushions from the word Buddha
On the screen wall that stands in the mountain gate?
No one measures;
Day in and day out, monks come in and out and go in and out.
The threshold sees the inconsequential changes of stars’ positions,
But people change it more and change with it more.

How farther is the heart in your body
When I am obsessed with this poem while you
Turn your face to the outside noise?
This poem is for you if you can find yourself in here.
　　　　　　　　　　Dec. 16, 2007

　　　距离
打坐的垫子与山门前影壁上的佛字
有多远的距离？
没人测量过，
日出日落，和尚们来往进出，
寺庙的门槛将星斗细微的移转看在眼里，
更大的磨损来自人的脚步，
而那些脚的变化大于星移斗转。

当我沉浸在这首诗里，
你原地转身，面向外面的声音，
你的心远离了多少？
如果你在这首诗中找到自己，
这首诗就是为你而作。
　　　　　　　　　2007年12月16日

Fan Jinghua: Low Song

　　Low Song
The night has never left
But sleep is never close
On a distant mountain
All the birds are crowded on one tree
In broad-leaved memory
Where creeks giggle down over boulders and bounce
I can hear my bones shaking like an antique car
That carries a smiling you in a tea hat
That summer, oh that summer
But who else could know my hearing
Who else could I blame for not hearing
When summer has gone
　　　　　　　Dec. 14 2007

　　低的歌
夜晚从未离开
而睡眠从未靠近
在遥远的山上
众鸟簇拥在一棵树上
在阔叶的记忆里
山溪从树下嬉笑着
蹦腾着　翻过石块
我听见我的骨头摇摇摆摆
犹如一架老爷车
载着宽边太阳帽下笑意满溢的你
那是夏天　哦　那个夏天
还有谁听到了我听见的声音
我又能责怪哪个没有听见的人
此刻夏天已经走远
　　　　　　2007年12月15日

Fan Jinghua: Night-Mare

　　Night-Mare
At the lowest of the night
Your roundness opens me up
Wrapping my inside in a mohair passage
Its far end is so near
That I cannot even stretch my arms to embrace

How can one who has trespassed dreams
Find a place to settle down

Sirens of bad weather are drained out of the city
And routinely slash the wild life on the ruins
The plants remain obstinately reticent and sensual
Not trying to know by what
Can man tell apart humiliation and awe
　　　　　　　　　Dec. 14, 2007

　　夜魔
总在夜冷到瑟处
你的浑圆将我翻开
将我的腑脏裹在丝绒般的过道
那尽头的遥远如此之近
我不能展开手臂拥入怀中

穿过了梦的人
能来到何处安居

恶劣天气的警报声被城市排出后
例行公事地抽打废墟上的生命
而它们旺盛地缄默着
任满城风雨如晦
从不试图理解人们凭什么分辨屈辱与敬畏
　　　　　　　2007年12月14日

Fan Jinghua: Loving Women

　　　　　Loving Women

It is a small hour. I am reading Akhamatova
And inspired to write a love poem to an Anna.
I search my bowels and mind for one phrase for a déjà vu look,
And realize sadly that you must be hiding into a dim tabernacle.

On my wall there is a square of gloomy sky.
In my desklamp, my wife's black hair is pale,
She makes a turn and murmurs, and suddenly she becomes old
Reminding me of my grandma and that summer
When she was lying on the deathbed with her three-inch-lotus feet.

That season I was somewhere far away from there and then,
And in one early morning I dreamt of a foreign woman in an ancient castle;
For the whole month there, we made love diligently and fucked each other hard,
Like two vampires huddling in the last corner of shelter from daylight.
That morning dream made me believe that I could fall into you years later.

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Menlo Castle, Galway, Ireland

　　　爱着的女人
下半夜刚开始。我读着艾赫玛托娃，突然
想给一个叫安娜的女人写一首情诗。
搜肠刮肚没找到一个词语，可以描述某个似曾相识的眼神，
悲伤地想到你肯定已随着灵魂躲进了一个黯淡的神龛。

墙上有一块四方的天空，阴郁着脸。
台灯下，我妻子的黑发显得苍白，
她翻了个身，嘟哝着我听不懂的话，于是她突然变老；
令我想到我外婆和那个夏天，
她和她的三寸金莲弥留在冷铺，我妈妈满脸茫然。

那个季节我一直在远离当时当地的远方，
某个清晨我梦见我在一座古堡结识一个异族女人；
那梦中的一月，我们勤勉地做爱，凶猛地性交，
像两个吸血鬼躲在阳光仍未照到的墙脚。
那场晓梦令我相信我将在多年后爱你终生，义无返顾。
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　2005年7月27日

I had a dream in my sophomore year (1984 summer) of an ancient castle and a Western woman, and in the same dream I dreamt of my grandmother's death which did take place one month later. I was horrified again by the weird "coincidence". I visited Ireland in 2004 summer with an Irish-origin woman from US, and saw some castles for the first time in my life. This castle is Menlo Castle in Galway, burnt down around 1910.

Fan Jinghua: Night Song

　　　　Night Song
Small hours. No heavenly hymning, no earthly chanting.
Humans are floating in self-made sounds,
If they are not dreaming.
This is time to bring the far into one’s sight and mind.
It is autumn, deep there, and if one stands long enough
Down there in the hollow stillness between apartment houses
Even without the moonlight upon the cassia tree, one knows
Time gyres but never goes.
How lotus seeds mature, each with a bitter wick in the heart;
Months further earlier, silkworms withdrew into silk cocoons.
It is human to foretell their new lives,
Behind their ignorant resignation.
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Dec. 10, 2007

　　　　夜歌
　　　　　　　　致Gloria
夜半之后。不闻天籁，大地静谧。
没有入梦的人
漂在自造的声音中。
这是将远方唤进灵魂的时刻。
远方的深处，秋也很深了，如果此刻
有人久久伫立在住宅楼围起的空寂中，
即使没有月光洒在桂树上，他会明白
时间只是旋转，从未走远。
莲子的成熟镶进一根苦涩的灯芯；
再几个月前，春尽，蚕退缩进丝茧。
只是人的心思才乐于背着它们无知的隐忍
扬言知晓它们的来生。
　　　　　　　　　2007年12月10-11日

Fan Jinghua: No Comments on the Past

　　No Comments on the Past

　　　　Poets, defeated by their material,
　　　　withdraw into their own exhaustion.
　　　　　　　　　　　---Douglas Dunn
As usual we take in whatever we can take
As usual we reprove whatever we cannot stand
Till the meshes are all blocked
By the whatevers that have not been entirely sieved through
Then on a fine day he suddenly collapses and crumbles
Like a clay totem column struck by a lightening
On a plaza where a circle is instantly drawn by legs
It is a clearing in human forest
No cold draught scavenging along the ground
Only a shaft of light striking down from the sky
The clean face wears a relief-like smile

That moment runs into a road’s end where it branches
Too sudden for him to choose
As a hidden slope stretches a sheer vastness before his eyes
He holds tight the jollystick of brakes
And is taken by a horrific flash
That they have been neglected too long to be inducing
Down the slope the letting-go is like flying
And his arms are blown to spread out like blades
As wind whistles by the ears with refreshing cool
All the landscape flow into the ultrasound
Of meandering rise-and-fall of poster walls
A white satin is being drawn over the terrain of the past
Which is lagging behind acerbically speeding up
　　　　　　　　　　　　　Dec. 08-09, 2007

　　成事不说
　　　诗人，被自己的素材击败，
　　　索居于自己的精疲力竭。
　　　　　　　　——道格拉斯·顿恩
那能被忍受的被一如既往地忍受
那不能忍受的被一如既往地谴责
直到忍受与谴责的滤网网眼被堵塞
然后他突然折断
像一根泥雕的图腾柱
被雷电击中
坍塌在憧憧的人群
他们的脚倏然腾出一个圆圈
沿着地面觅食的冷风被挡开
光从天上垂照下来
一张净洁的脸上有浮雕一样轮廓分明的笑

那个瞬间直抵一条路裂开的尽头
来不及选择便拐进一个岔道
隐藏的下坡在眼前展现恐慌的开阔
双手捏紧时才意识到多年来只习惯于加速
制动闸已不能夹紧
汗湿的手终于松开，两臂伸展成翅膀
风在耳边加速直至声音与风景
都融合成了流线
那延绵起伏恒定飘曳的乳流
像丝绸被拖过往日的地表
而往日仍在凝滞而蹇涩地试图提速
　　　　　　　　2007年12月9日

Fan Jinghua: Fallen Leaves

　　Fallen Leaves (A Fragment)

When you sit by your desk by a high window,
Higher than all the treetops,
The swivel chair does not bring in a framed landscape.
The square sky does not offer an objet d’art;
It is polluted, dull and opaque,
And clouds in it are drifting to nowhere.
You turn away from it, and the drifting finds its own end.

If you were younger, they would become
Celestial horses galloping across the rainbow,
Their hooves smelling of wild flowers.
By now, the trees down there must have been
Deprived off leaves, as they become colder and colder,
From red to brown and black.

Who would let their windows open to frigidity,
Only to learn how few leaves are still in the wind?
Not you, as you have grown acrophobic since mid-autumn.
The fallen leaves are safer, like a boy who chooses
To lie on the ground so he will never fall from his bed.
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Dec. 06, 2007

　　落叶 (残篇)
你坐在高窗前的书桌旁，
坐在所有的树梢上方，
转椅的自由并没为你带来镶框的风景，
一片四方的天难成客观的艺术。
污染了，呆滞而混浊，
其间偶有云朵漂泊，不知所终。
你转头面墙，漂泊在漂泊中寻找终点。

如果你更年轻一些，它们或许是
天马，蹄声嘚嘚于辽阔的天空，
跨越彩虹，踏起野花的香味。
而此时，窗下，树木被剥夺了
叶子，越来越冷，它们红过，
然后转成褐色，终于枯黑腐烂。

还有谁任窗子向寒冷敞开，
仅仅为了知道还有几片叶子在风中瑟缩？
不是你，因为你自深秋以来就开始恐高。
那些落叶应该安全了，犹如一个睡相顽劣的孩子
宁愿选择地铺，免于从床上摔下。
　　　　　2007年12月8日

Note: A colleague jumped to death from the tenth floor in his apartment house at one o'clock pm on Dec. 5th. He is 50, a professor in People's University of China in Beijing, specializing in modern Western aesthetics and philosophy covering the theories from Nietzsche to Heidegger and beyond. Among his last words, he wrote: "At midday, a Nietschean time, he drops from the high sky, like a fallen leaf or a flying bird?"

Fan Jinghua: Sideslip

　　　　　　Sideslip
　　　　　　　　　　　　For Gloria

　　Quel cri si fait sur une bouche absente?
　　　　　　　　　　　　　--Yves Bonnefoy

　　Sideslip: to fly sideways and downward in an airplane
　　　　　　along the lateral axis to reduce altitude without
　　　　　　gaining speed or as the result of banking too deeply
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　(American Heritage Dictionary)

I won’t even care to figure out
How many days and hours ago
You last surfaced.
There is an automatic tracking in the system,
But arithmetic kills.
　　　　　A blind boy shot an arrow into a pond, jovially
　　　　　And the waves shake loose the necking of clouds
　　　　　The game on the water-face runs so deep
　　　　　Let’s just say it has been a long long time
　　　　　Let’s just say it is history and a version of eternity
Are there echoes bouncing in your bosom, Dear?
Have you heard,
Striding the interface of water and earth,
Standing on the tiny teeth of time that nibble reality,
The sound of an aching love in my hard disk memory,
A love that seeps through all the Ages?
　　　　　Last night I read Götterdämmerung
　　　　　But dropped it
　　　　　After the few lines about the unwarned break-up of destiny-rope
　　　　　I went to the kitchen window at Norns’ departure
　　　　　The sky was nothing special and nothing
　　　　　Was steering into my night
How is your sleep these days?
Do you startle at occasional sad dreams
And realize, in the closet, smartly, that they are only to be kept
Shut until they grow dead
And perhaps back into darkness you foresee
Their rising from ashes during another unforeseeable night?
Is your bed warm?
Do you incense your room to keep off moisture and evil spirits?
　　　　　VR is another dimension where we get hurt
　　　　　Not as a body but as an embodied spirit
　　　　　We become ourselves in words, electronic
　　　　　And antediluvian Gods neither heal nor visit
When you take off your spectacles and retire,
Do they lie across a book of poetry, through the lenses
Lines crooked and words distorted?
Do the frames and pages on the desk
Open innocently unabashed, taking in your postcoital triste?
　　　　　We swim in liquid crystal and on land
　　　　　We crawl with necessary jumps
　　　　　We join in the procession of a massive throwback
　　　　　To amphibians, cold-blooded and vertebrate,
　　　　　Spawning in water and maturing into lung-breathing adult.
There is no prelife to turn to and no afterlife to expect
We are condemned to foresight
And this life is a vertical axis we have been engineered along
Therefore we sideslip into another life of love or love of life
We are impregnable
And out of a spa we come afresh, immaculate like newly-weds.

But, Dear, can you hear in my poems
The sound of aching love that cuts through all my lives?
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Dec. 1, 2007


　　　　　侧滑
　　　　　　　　　　　　致Gloria

　　　　　　在那缺场的嘴唇上有什么声音在形成？
　　　　　　　　　　　　　——伊夫 · 博纳弗瓦

　　　　　【侧滑】飞机沿着横轴向侧下方飞行以降低高度
　　　　　　　　　而不增加速度，或是因倾斜转弯飞行时
　　　　　　　　　高度落差太大所致（《美国传统大辞典》）

我甚至已不想着要计算
你上一次现身
是多少天多少小时前的事了
系统有自动记录
而算术只会销毁一切
　　　　　　　一个盲眼小孩出于胡闹朝池塘放了一箭
　　　　　　　然后水波就荡松了颈项绞缠的云朵
　　　　　　　水面上的游戏玩到了深处
　　　　　　　我们就说已经是很久很久的时间了
　　　　　　　就说这也是历史，是永恒的另一个版本
你的胸中是否有回音在前冲后撞，亲爱的
你跨着水陆的界面
站在时间的小牙轻轻啃噬现实的那条界线上
是否听见了
我的硬盘存储器中
令人疼痛的爱穿过无数时代的咝咝声
　　　　　　　昨夜我读《神界的黄昏》
　　　　　　　刚刚看到命运之绳无端地断裂
　　　　　　　就丢下木刻的女神
　　　　　　　走到厨房窗前
　　　　　　　夜空毫无特别之处
　　　　　　　什么都没有驶入我的夜晚
这些日子来你的睡眠是否安稳
你是否偶尔会突然被忧伤的梦惊起
在厕所半睁着刺痛的眼睛
意识到那些只能被紧紧关闭在心底
等着它们完成了向着死灭的生长
或许你回到黑暗中
预见到它们在另一个无法预见的夜晚从灰烬中升起
你的床温暖吗
你是否焚香以驱赶潮气和阴魂
　　　　　　　虚拟现实是我们伤害自己的另一个空间
　　　　　　　不是作为肉体而是作为赋予了肉身的灵魂
　　　　　　　我们在文字中化为电子版的自己
　　　　　　　大洪水前的上帝不会降临此地不会为它赐福
当你取下眼镜准备就寝
它们是否躺在一本诗集上
穿过镜片的诗行扭曲了文字变了形
镜架和书页纯真地张开在写字台上
接受你性爱后的忧伤眼神
　　　　　　　我们在液晶中游泳
　　　　　　　在陆地上爬行必要时偶尔跳跃
　　　　　　　我们加入了大规模返祖的行列
　　　　　　　向两栖动物倒退　冷血但是有脊椎
　　　　　　　在水中产卵　成熟了才上岸　用肺呼吸
没有前世可以让我们重过一回也没有来生可以期待
我们因为先见之明而注定了此生
为了沿着这纵向的航程我们不停地被加入插件
然而我们无法孕育或者再生
只需要经过一次温泉浴
我们就会又像新婚一样

但是亲爱的你能否听见我诗篇中
令人疼痛的爱切开我所有人生的咝咝声
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　2007年12月1日

Fan Jinghua: Beach Scene with a Miracle

　　　Beach Scene with a Miracle

Royal blue is the azure with orange-laced whitish
Streaks and strokes of cirrus clouds
　　　　　　　　　　　　　Over the distant hills whose contours meander
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Of shades of slate grey and ivory black
　　　　　　　　　　　Between concave vault and pre-impregnated mirror
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Of absence

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　On an arc of beach like an embrace
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Dotted with detectable huts
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Of mushrooms on stilts among palms
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Plump bodies are wrapped in bright colors
　　　　　　　　　　　Sylphs seen as triangular patches and tanned apples
One man is walking
Back and forth, alone
Looking away and lost
As if in thought
Then he is seen flying, arms flapping and his coat slipping off
He turns a downcast look at the liveliness, two feet thrusting a frog kick
He soars into the orbit of roc like a rocket
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Nov. 28-29, 2007


　　带奇迹的海滩风景

幽蓝的碧空　卷云蘸着白色
　写下镶着橘黄蕾丝的行书
　　　　　　　　　远山的轮廓逶迤在天下
　　　　　　　　　　　从瓦灰到象牙墨　色调分层
　　　　　　　　　将凹拱般的苍穹与孕育着图像的镜面
　　　　　　　　　　　分隔成两种缺失

　　　　　　　　　　　这弯有如拥抱的海滩
　　　　　　　　　　　　　点缀着粗皮的遮阳亭
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　棕榈之间的蘑菇踩着高跷
　　　　　　　　　　　　　肉嘟嘟的身体裹着明晃晃的颜色
　　　　　　　　　　修长的精灵只是三角块与浅棕色的苹果
悠闲地　走来　走去
一个男人　望着远处
似乎在沉思　一个人失神
然后他飞了起来　扇动两臂　衣服滑落
向热闹的海滩投下一瞥　两只脚像蛙泳一样　一夹　猛踩一脚空气
他窜进了大鹏的轨道　……如一支火箭
　　　　　　　　　　　　　2007年11月30日

Fan Jinghua: From the Depth

　From the Depth

Who props up
On the arm-pyre
The rock of a human heart?
Tonight, the sky is
Too clear for the red of fire.
My body lies
On the bedrock, and your love
Cannot dredge it up,
Even if your eyes can crawl
Along the moonlight,
Despite your bathophobia,
Despite the quilts of cloud.
There is a doom in its fall,
But it falls on its own back,
Not mine. I have to be with it,
Though, and this allows me time
To send you with ease
One smile after another
As simple as the rings of water
That touch the banks of a pond
After a stone sinks at its center.
　　　　　Nov. 27, 2007

　自低处

是谁
手臂如茎
将一颗人心的石头
架在柴堆的顶端？
今夜，月色太明朗，
不适合火的红色。
我的肉身躺在岩床上，
是你的爱情
无法罱起的泥。
即使你的双眼
能克服深渊恐惧，
沿着月光
穿过云的衾绸，
你也无法触及我
这注定被放逐的躯体。
它仰脸摔倒，瘫痪的
是它自己的背，不是我的。
只是，我必须守着它。
这令我有时间从容地为你
送去一道又一道朴素的微笑，
犹如一块石头沉入池塘的中心，
呈上水波的戒指，
轻轻触碰堤岸，一次又一次。
　　　　2007年11月27-28日