Fan Jinghua: Song of a Suicidal Lover

　　　Song of a Suicidal Lover

　　　　　　It is a beautiful dream, with a sad refrain.
　　　　　　　　　　　　　Allan Taylor “Kerouac’s Dream”

It is suicidal to requite love, to make both
hope for a balance in uncertain motion,
as if two drops of dew roll toward each other
along a grass blade in the morning breeze
and merge at the broadest part
before they evaporate.
What attraction has that precision and will?
Does it have a special language or a unique tool?
Could a love which can be expressed in words be
the love that houses intact content of its own?
What desire can be so exclusive and differentiable
that it conveys a heart and soul
not in the terms of shared shallowness
but in place of an absent body?

The moment a love is known and enjoyed between two,
it starts to stale, as one will take it
to the street, to give it a name.
The other is left alone in the bathroom, to get drowned,
like a razor blade in the foamy tub
before it makes a final cut on the smooth white ceramic
as the body slides into its warmth.
The temples will shine, wet with a lonely name tag
of “a consummate lover,” whose love snows as proudly
as a sailboat in a crystal ball.
What cold climate may be called one’s own?
What cold hole exists in the moisture?
The bitterly flavorless aftertaste will last longer, which
to remember is vain and to forget is fear.

Any cut, if isolated, hurts without limit,
as if a desperate one cut on the board of a boat
to mark the spot where an overboard chest of treasures falls.
The cut is always present,
while the cutter is borne away on the water,
and he can do nothing but adding another cut to make a cross.
Everything is now in the wound, sappy, and it speaks
a subliminal language that no human receptive organs are up to.
One has to feel it with flesh and internals, but words, once said,
become airborne, and none will return to the budding impulse.
Love exists forever and only
when unbalanced, and I love you, with
no “see you later,” like you have never existed.
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　March 11-16, 2008

　　自杀的情歌

　　　　　那是一个美丽的梦，有悲伤的叠句。
　　　　　　　　　---阿伦·泰勒《凯鲁亚克的梦》

回报， 令彼此总能
在不确定的移动中取得平衡，
这是自杀的企图，犹如希望两滴露珠
沿着晨风中的草叶滚向彼此，
在最宽处的中线上融为一体，在蒸发之前。
怎样的吸引力具有那样的精确与意志？
它是否有一种特别的语言和专用的工具？
被语言表示出去的爱
是否无损于它原本拥有的内容？
怎样的欲望能够如此无所不包而又精细入微，
传达一棵心、一尾灵
不是漂浮在人人共享的横面
而是替代那缺席的身体？

一旦爱情与两个人相知相识，它将被
一个人会带到大街上，给它
一个名字，然后，它便能满街漂浮。
另一个人被留在浴室，
犹如剃刀片切入浴缸里堆积的泡沫，
随着那身体滑进温暖，
在白瓷边缘留下最后的刻痕。
太阳穴，歪着，闪着湿湿的干净的光，
一只孤独的标签，注明这是“一个完满的情人”，
雪一样自傲地爱着一种纯粹，犹如水晶球中的帆船。
怎样的寒冷可以称之为惟我自己拥有？
怎样的洞穴存在于这弥漫的雾气中？
惟有那无味得苦涩的余味持久不散，
记起，是虚妄，忘却，是恐惧。

每道单独的伤口都是无尽的深渊，
正如一个人将百宝箱扔进海里，另一个人
在船舷上刻下记号，表明那坠落的地点。
刻痕永远在眼前，
而那刻的人已经被水载走，
绝望中，那人只能在原处又刻一道，
那记号变成了十字。
一切都蕴涵在伤口，流出液汁，说
听阈之下的语言，人类的感应器官无法企及。
必须以肉与内脏感受，而字，一旦说出口，
便委身于空气，再也不会回到含苞的冲动。
爱，永远只存在于不平衡中；
我爱你，没有“来日再见”，
犹如你从未存在于此世。
　　　　　　　　　2008年3月18-19日