The planks have been scrubbed into white flesh, their veins bare,
We carpet the floor with quilt and we pillow on bended arms.
Rolling over, we become two praying mantises (and sexual cannibalism does enter
Our pillow talk), but we need not worry about falling down even if it is a battlefield.
The narrow window casts down dim light, its frame stark like our bodies;
Your murmurs must be about something, as if on the ceiling floats
A pair of eye-like goldfish, while my eyes fix on yours,
Something from my ganglion deeply softened, very masculine.
Outside, another time lies supine and spreads, into which we may enter to get lost.
There is a lawn we can stroll on, with a few fruit trees that stand to sieve the sun;
On a big oak, Jew’s ears cluster, brown and visually hard, like scallops of fertility
On which the genii of Venus are being born among nameless midges.
It is a post-burgeoning season, and fruits are growing fuller, yet still velvety.
Afterwards, the maturing season will be behind us.
Without our witness, what will befall the time?
Without our presence, what will befall the house?
Daylight is fading away, the colors of sky are getting crowded,
And both the east and the west are falling prone on the earth,
With only occasional bird cries cutting through the vacancy.
We are with the ongoing, the succession of night and day lying beyond our minds.
In that house, I love you, more than what has been imagined and believed,
More than what can be seen and touched,
More like love than love in words, spoken or printed….
Yet neither of us can tell what love is except that love is to be in there, and
The house must be still there, in another time, where we have been, in love with love.
Feb. -- Mar., 2008
Belle Isle, Northern Ireland在那所老房子里我们带着爱情相爱
那地板的木条已经被擦出了凹陷，木纹如绘
我们将薄被铺成地毯，在壁炉前，曲肱而枕，或者一滚
便支起身体，像两只螳螂（想必性爱相食的情话会出现在所有的枕边）
即便这是战场，谁都不会有摔下去的忧虑
窄长的窗户投下幽暗的光，窗棂的骨架如裸裎的你我
你的喃喃肯定有关什么，犹如在天花板上有一双眼睛一样的鱼在游
而我盯着你，我的深处，男人的力温暖而柔韧
室外，另一个时间在铺展，我们进入便会同样迷失
在草地上或行或止，果树稀疏，筛过的阳光照在脸上
一棵大橡树的树杈上有几丛木耳，褐黄，滋润而硬朗
如丰饶的扇贝，小精灵的维纳斯由此诞生，小蠓虫营营碌碌
这是萌芽后的季节，果实开始丰满，却仍带着茸毛
而在我们走后的成熟季节，那个时间没有了我们，会怎样
……还有你我，与那所房子分离之后，会怎样
昼光逐渐消退，天色开始拥挤
东方与西方都向大地沉伏，只有偶尔的鸟叫无中生有
我们随着时间进入一日的尽头，没有想一天之后还有一天，没有想夜日相继
在那所房子里，我爱你
比想象和相信的更丰厚，比看见和触摸的更具体
比文字中的爱情更像爱情，而不是孤独、思念或者需要
除了在那儿那样，我们谁都说不出爱情还能是什么
那房子想必还在，在另一个时间，我们曾经，在那儿，爱过爱情
2008年3月4-5日
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