Winter Sun and Beyond
The sunlight is fine, and under the reflection of brown glass shutters,
The usually dusky corner of my room becomes lighter, as if lightened by itself.
I’ve taken my mattress to the corridor, and I can expect
Tonight I will breathe in the erotic dry odor of sunlight, unable to sleep
Or able to dream of the vernal season, sans your scent.
Now, I am listening to Bach’s well-tempered clavier, and think of
The old Chinaberry in front of the house I was born. What can I write about it?
Those inedible dates hang on the forgotten top, lonely together,
Glittering under the winter sun. If I can write words as simple and blunt,
I may be a much happier person, unbent as sunlight.
The snow-patches wait quietly in the field for the sun to go west
So that they will melt, with or without anyone to watch.
Afterwards, there will be green on the roadside, and then there will be
People who are confined to the grass-lined white path, lauding the summer.
Nov. 25, 2009
冬阳以及之后
天气晴好，棕色窗玻璃的折射
令室内荫蔽的地方也暗自亮了一些。
我将席梦思戗在廊下，可以期待
今夜，我将会呼吸着干燥刺激的阳光味，不能入眠
或者可能做春日的梦，而没有你的味道。
此刻，我听着巴赫的平均律；想到我出生的房子，
那门外有一棵苦楝树；关于它，我能写出什么？
楝枣子明晃晃地挂在峭寒的枝头，孤零零地一小撮，
偶尔闪碎碎的光，而无人在意；假若我能写出
与它们一样朴素直白的话，我会变成一个更开怀的人，
犹如阳光没有弯曲，所以冬天的田野上
积雪的补丁，静静地等着日头的转移，寂寞地化掉。
这之后，小路的边将开始泛起绿晕，再之后，路人
被郁郁的青草习惯性地限制于一道白，赞美着盛夏。
2009年11月25日
No comments:
Post a Comment