Therapy
by Axiang tr. Fan Jinghua
The first to wake up in the morning is a quiet one,
so quiet that she has to pull her own hair,
from where smoke will rise.
She stays in a cramped ward, something dripping into her day in and day out;
Others unbearably crowd in there as patients, while outside lies water so wide.
She faces the wall, all the time.
For most of the time, a weird intuition takes hold of her,
and from the other side of glass, she tells me that she has not grown up yet
so she is most prone to see flames of human shape
like men without a face.
April 5, 2008
治疗
阿翔
早晨第一个醒来的人是寂静的人
寂静得揪自己的头发
头发冒起了烟。
她待在狭小的病房里，日复一日的输液
别的病人已经拥挤不堪，外面是水面宽阔
她一直面靠着墙。
很多时候
她有一种奇异的直觉，隔着挡雨玻璃，对我说：她未成年
最容易看到人形焰火
像无脸的男子。
2008年4月5日
It is always a saddening experience to visit a ward, especially a visit to a mentally disordered friend or relative. Let us suppose that the poet visits a poet-friend, and now when we read the poem, can we relate to the poet who writes this poem or the poet as the patient? Perhaps it is both. This is exactly what the poem is about. When we see such a friend behind the glass, it is us or “me” that we see. Or at least I am that kind.
Sometimes, when I read, especially when I read into the poems written by poets whom I can get into touch, I suffer everything s/he suffers. Sometimes, the sorrow is hard to take. I told one poet whose poetry I dearly love: I used to have the urge to tell you that there are people keeping watch over you and they know that your fragility is your strength.
We are of one kind, lonely in this world. We can do nothing but to love, and this makes us lonelier. We write poems, but we cannot save ourselves through writing. It is love that proves to be the ultimate healing grace.
探访病人总是令人伤心的经历，如果那个病人身在一个精神病院，那么就更加如此了。我们假设这首诗写的是一个诗人探访另一个诗人朋友。当我们读这样的诗，我们会认同与这个写诗人还是作为病人的诗人呢？或许是两种可能并存，而这正是这首诗的目的吧。我们看到玻璃后的病人，我们看到的又何曾不是自己？起码我是如此的。
有时候，当我读诗的时候，尤其是读到一些我可能在诗歌之外有联系的诗人的作品，我和他们感同身受，心中的难受恐怕不亚于他们自己。有时那种折磨难以承受。我对一个很喜欢的诗人说：曾想对你说，有人看着你呢，知道你的脆弱就是你的坚强。
我们都是同一类人，在这世界上孤独着。我们别无他法，只能相爱，而这令我们更加孤独。我们写，然而我们无法通过写诗治疗和拯救自己。只有爱才是具有最终治救力量的恩泽。
by Axiang tr. Fan Jinghua
The first to wake up in the morning is a quiet one,
so quiet that she has to pull her own hair,
from where smoke will rise.
She stays in a cramped ward, something dripping into her day in and day out;
Others unbearably crowd in there as patients, while outside lies water so wide.
She faces the wall, all the time.
For most of the time, a weird intuition takes hold of her,
and from the other side of glass, she tells me that she has not grown up yet
so she is most prone to see flames of human shape
like men without a face.
April 5, 2008
治疗
阿翔
早晨第一个醒来的人是寂静的人
寂静得揪自己的头发
头发冒起了烟。
她待在狭小的病房里，日复一日的输液
别的病人已经拥挤不堪，外面是水面宽阔
她一直面靠着墙。
很多时候
她有一种奇异的直觉，隔着挡雨玻璃，对我说：她未成年
最容易看到人形焰火
像无脸的男子。
2008年4月5日
It is always a saddening experience to visit a ward, especially a visit to a mentally disordered friend or relative. Let us suppose that the poet visits a poet-friend, and now when we read the poem, can we relate to the poet who writes this poem or the poet as the patient? Perhaps it is both. This is exactly what the poem is about. When we see such a friend behind the glass, it is us or “me” that we see. Or at least I am that kind.
Sometimes, when I read, especially when I read into the poems written by poets whom I can get into touch, I suffer everything s/he suffers. Sometimes, the sorrow is hard to take. I told one poet whose poetry I dearly love: I used to have the urge to tell you that there are people keeping watch over you and they know that your fragility is your strength.
We are of one kind, lonely in this world. We can do nothing but to love, and this makes us lonelier. We write poems, but we cannot save ourselves through writing. It is love that proves to be the ultimate healing grace.
探访病人总是令人伤心的经历，如果那个病人身在一个精神病院，那么就更加如此了。我们假设这首诗写的是一个诗人探访另一个诗人朋友。当我们读这样的诗，我们会认同与这个写诗人还是作为病人的诗人呢？或许是两种可能并存，而这正是这首诗的目的吧。我们看到玻璃后的病人，我们看到的又何曾不是自己？起码我是如此的。
有时候，当我读诗的时候，尤其是读到一些我可能在诗歌之外有联系的诗人的作品，我和他们感同身受，心中的难受恐怕不亚于他们自己。有时那种折磨难以承受。我对一个很喜欢的诗人说：曾想对你说，有人看着你呢，知道你的脆弱就是你的坚强。
我们都是同一类人，在这世界上孤独着。我们别无他法，只能相爱，而这令我们更加孤独。我们写，然而我们无法通过写诗治疗和拯救自己。只有爱才是具有最终治救力量的恩泽。
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