Tuesday, November 17, 2009

Fan Jinghua: Reading Bits

 Reading Bits
  碎读

At dusk, daylight is thickening.
Reading The Book of Poetry as a sutra.
And insects begin to join.
  及晚,昼光在浓厚。
  读《诗经》如佛经,亦如爱经。
  虫子渐次加入。

Way deep into the night. Curtains almost overlapped, itching.
A zither by the wall, my fingers glide-stroking it.
Could someone in dreams hear it?
  夜深。窗帘几乎交叠,痒痒的。
  墙边的一把琴,我手指一抹。
  做梦的人能听到么?

Stretching, walk over to the wall of shelves,
Nipping out a folded Heart Sutra.
“No” and “Emptiness” have juice and then I find a postcard from a friend,
Beauty of the calligraphy mirroring the beauty of a mind.
  伸展着,走到书架的墙前,
  捏出《心经》的金折子。
  “不”与“空”有汁,我看到一张夹着的明信片,
  美丽的书法,映现美的心。

Sitting, I am a wall
To close a cubical space,
Stationery scattered under the lamp like reefs.
All the walls dissolving.
  坐着,我是一堵墙
  封闭了一个方格的空间,
  文具零乱在灯下犹如珊瑚岛礁。
  所有的墙都在消散。

There are so many different islands on the distant sea,
There are so many different seas.
One has to use imagination, seeing them or not seeing them.
  远方的海上有那么多不同的岛屿,
  远方有那么多不同的海。
  看见或者不看见,都需要运用想象。

Alone and silent, I can hear the stirrings in churches, temples and mosques,
And then bedrooms and kitchens.
I cannot hear a study or a scriptorium.
  一人,沉默,我能听到教堂、庙宇和清真寺中的微动,
  接着听到卧室与厨房的声音。
  我听不见书斋或抄经室。

Reading those words of the past, loving.
Water combing weeds, water combed.
No narcissus, but still reflecting
So many faces
Of mine, at a scratch of a water spider.
Those bodies, of nymphs, words and the abstract,
Sending me to the otherworld.
  读着过去的字,爱着。
  水,梳过水草,被梳。
  没有水仙,可仍会倒映
  那么多脸,
  我的,在一只水蜘蛛长脚的轻划下。
  那些小仙的、字的、抽象之物的身体
  将我送入另一个世界。
           2009年11月10日及15日

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