Fan Jinghua: A Love Song Without Words

　　A Love Song Without Words
　　　　　　　　　　　　For Zhao Dongni & Wang Shasha
At the end of the day, it’s
A paper full of scratches and scribbles;
At the end of the night, it’s
A paper of blankness I’m facing.
The words needed me to write them down
So that they can fly away, visibly.

You might ask, as I can imagine in the dark:
What does it read? ––It doesn’t read.
What does it write? —It writes nothing.
What does it mean? —It means love.
“Then,” you chime, “it is a song of love.”
Yes, I know you know words matter the least.

I have a pen, I have a heart and a brain,
But it’s the hands that interrupt and betray.
They resist to touch and convey,
Not attempting the distance between wake and sleep.
When the whistle of the first train startles me,
I fold up and put into an envelope a poem without words.

Love songs are inevitably written with sorrys,
And this one I have finally written off.
It means, therefore I don’t have to be the words’ host.
A sutra without words was written to be meaningful
For those whose eyes never touched it.
Words are but marks in the rubbing of a palimpsest,

But love, I am what you are, always.
　　　　　　　　　　　　Jan. 26, 2008


　　　无言的爱之诗
　　　　　　　　　献给Y&Z

一天尽了，一张纸被划满了
车水人流，纵横、虚实、曲线、弧；
一夜将尽，痕迹一一退消，
这张纸腾出了满满的空白。
字词需要我，它们需要我将它们写出，
以便它们的逃逸在视觉中有过停留。

你或许会设问，验证我的暗中设想：
这该怎么读？——它无法读出。
它写着什么？——写的是空白。
那是什么意思？——这意味着爱。
你张口便有旋律：啊，这是爱的诗篇。
是，我知道你知道，字最不重要。

我有一支笔，我有一颗心，还有头脑，
但是手总插在它们之间，作梗。
它们拒绝触摸、拒绝传递体温，它们从不拥抱
成一个环路，也不努力伸展，连接睡与醒的指尖。
当早班火车的第一声汽笛将我惊起，
我匆匆叠起这张纸，将一首无字的诗塞入信封。

所有的爱之诗最终都由抱憾与歉愧写成，
而这一首我终于能够写到无需再写。
它是意义，因此我不再是词语的寄主。
为了那些从未见识过的眼睛，
无字真经也被涂抹，敷衍上了教义。
经文，不过是重写本的拓片，背景沉实，

字是空白，而我，love，原本就是你。
　　　　　　　　　　　　　2008年1月28日