Fan Jinghua: Take off the Shoes of Life

　　　　Take off the Shoes of Life
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　[For Xuchao]
Dusk here comes later than in the ancient time, and it flashes by when it does.
Radiation at 6 p.m. does not cower a bit.
I don’t do this often, thinking of you. You, in a blind gut
In the downtown complex, perhaps no less familiar with ennui.
Tangible life is increasingly imitating its simulacrum.

People who share too many specifics may not make a metaphysical conversation,
While in two different worlds how can we expect them to be tangent?
One hears words drooling out: “You know life is like this and this is life……”
What else can we demand?
And yet we still look forward, with cool eyes, to a passionate life.

How to share silence is the question that always proves failures between people.
A trial of faith, a tacit pact beyond the ponds of words
Which coheres distance with silence, rather than fills distance into silence.
Faith, like folly, which our ancient sages claimed is most difficult to attain.
Silence is gold, especially when there are diamonds in the mouth.

Time never pauses, no matter we ride the back of chores or chores-ridden.
Why do people compare it to an arrow or a shuttle?
Isn’t it a trawl that we drag along the watercourse from opposite banks,
While whatever direction we may look into, our bodies surely bend forward?
We may steam or grill our catch or simply free them so they’ll soon forget each other?

These days, the wheels of showers break the day with their rattling scythe,
As if they cannot wait to drag the sleepers out of their dreams.
Often, this is the time for me to abandon everything, but they take chance to sneak in.
When a mind is over-stuffed with bookish ideals and isms, it will spare no shelf
For spice bottles. Words consume men, raw and unseasoned.

Everyone loves another life, theoretically.
So when the setting sun ogles from below, you may rise and go to the window,
Standing there for a short while to take a glance of the changing splendor.
That is enough, for thinking before an abyss is dangerous. Better pack up and go home,
Like a hunter, arrows in quiver, knife in sheath, a day’s catch hanging on the spear.

On the way home, trees are too familiar to hint whether you are leaving or returning,
But if you feel better in absent-mindedness in another life,
Let the automatic mechanism in you carry you along.
Take off shoes, scuff in slippers, bare feet and then peel upward, and finally
You walk out of clothes… Pure as a newborn creature!

The life from the morning door to the night bed can be a dotted line between lines,
And we do not listen but always hear those lyrics. Love is not love,
If not spiritually consummated, and people close eyes to feel being blindly loved.
Only dreams are kept out of life like shoes out of bed,
But they go with red wine well, and also they are not aphrodisiac.
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　May 7-8, 20009


　　　　给生活脱鞋
　　　　　　　　　　　赠Xuchao

连黄昏也比古代迟来，而且很瞬间
此刻，下午六点，辐射依然毫不示弱
想到你在这个城市的某一节盲肠里，或许不会比我少多少厌倦
我可并不经常如此想你
人们分享了太多具体，哪怕只是想象的，也不能令说话更加抽象
虽说具体的生活已经越来越模仿媒体中的拟像
若身处两个世界，却又无话可说：“你明白的，就是这样的啦”
我们还能要求什么呢？可我们仍然对激情充满冷冷的期待

如何共享沉默，一直是一个致命的问题，令人们纷纷诉诸争吵
这要求人们有超越语言的信念，用沉默弥合距离，而不是反之
（信是愚，愚，如古贤所云，不可及；这就好像
沉默是金，当嘴里含着钻石的时候尤其如此）
而时间一刻不停，无论人被俗事劫持还是驾驭着俗事
但我总没明白箭与梭的比喻，难道它不是一张网么
犹如各自走在岸上，拖着它，无论看着哪儿，身体一定前倾
一日终了，该如何处理捞起的鱼，红烧还是清蒸，或者放生，让它们很快再次相忘

这些天，雷阵雨总在凌晨抖动明晃晃的镰刀
要将沉睡者提前拖出安眠的门槛
而我往往刚刚入睡，风声雨声，不失时机地声声入心入肺
书读得太多，就有永远读不完的必读书，阅读生活的理由却越来越少
每个人都会热爱另一种生活，理论上如此
所以，当夕阳从低处扫射高窗时，你可以起身去窗前，小站一会儿
瞬息万变的绚烂只取一瞥，够了，这个时候思考是危险的
还是整理皮包，如猎人向晚，箭入囊，刀入鞘，长矛上挑着一天的斩获，不论多少

从早晨的来路返回，每一棵树都毫无意外地熟悉，或者陌生
如果需要心不在焉，沉溺于自己，自发的动作丝毫没有影响
脱鞋……拖鞋……妥协……脱卸……哈
不管是否愿意，我们总听到比这些更加抒情的歌词，其实一样含糊歧义
从出门到上床，生活本可以弛缓而清白，犹如小葱拌进豆腐
电视剧适时地关灯……一宿无话——只是
梦，像鞋子一样不得上床，只能留着下酒，不可用来催情
我们都喜欢红的，却不是为了要高雅，这或许值得珍惜
　　　　　　　　　　　　　2009年5月8日