FAN Jinghua: Only about One

　　Only about One

　　　I
At small hours my mind begins to grow
Warts and holes.
It is not a pair of lungs hanging out on a tree for irrigation.
But bean curd taking forms in coagulant solution,
Of much more clarity and purity.
The making of silences
Makes me compact outside and expansive within,
And I have to sit like a vegetable to forget I am a human being
Vulnerable to rust disease and humiliatable to brave ignorance.

　　　II
Questions are self-generable, asexual.
Questions about one has infiltrated me like rays,
And I am a honeycombed briquette.
No one ever sees the language of the initial question.

　　　III
In what language
Do you authorize yourself to be condemned
For your loneliness to the bones?
How to keep one for the touch of bosom instead of pubis?
Rather shed sperm than spare spittle?
Are your lips tense enough
When you blow your fluted bones?
Is the condensed moisture warped for a listener?
What colors do the buds of notes reflect?

　　　IV
I can see you when everything is still, and you are no stranger.
The death of night is a black mirror,
And when my fingers touch its face, no words appear.
What color is the bubble around you?
　　　　　　　　　　　　　August 8-9, 2008


　　只关乎一人

午夜过后，我的脑子开始生长
赘疣和漏洞。
那不是挂在树上冲洗的一付肚肺，
而是豆腐在卤水中的各式形状，
更加清澈而纯粹。
这一制造沉默的过程
令我内部更加紧凑而外部更加膨松，
我必须坐成一棵植物才能忘记自己是人，
易于生锈，易于被无畏的无知羞辱。

　　*　*　*　*

问题总是无性自我繁衍。
有关一个人的问题已经像光线一样穿透我，
而我仍是一块蜂窝煤。
无人看见最初的问题采用的是什么语言。

　　*　*　*　*

你授权什么语言诅咒你
永远解脱不了独孤？
你如何保持一个人，
能够胸脯相贴而非耻骨搓揉？
宁可丢撒精液也不愿浪费口水？
当你拿起骨头的箫管，
你的嘴唇是否收放自如？
那些潮气凝成的音符是否因守候听者而扭曲着身子？
它们的蓓蕾折射出怎样的色彩？

　　*　*　*　*

当一切静止时，我看到了你，绝非陌生人。
夜的死亡是一面黑色的镜子，
我的手指触摸它的脸，没有字词出现。
笼罩你的泡泡是什么颜色？
　　　　　　　　　　　2008年8月10日