Affinity 契合
For Tina 献给婷
* * * *
The bell’s sudden toll
startled the birds, and what followed
scattered them away like sounds.
Lighter colors were being absorbed by the spire.
while you looked for anything everywhere to get connected.
And I did not reach for you.
We would be merged in darkness,
after the echoes.
June 24, 2007
July 27, 2007
记否，那突然的钟响
先是将鸟儿惊起，接着的
将它们如同声音一般撒了出去。
当塔尖将较轻的颜色一抹一抹地吸收，
你环顾四周，寻找任何可以凝目的东西。
而我没有向你伸手。
回响消逝后，黑暗
自会把我们融进一体。
* * * *
You lift the cover of the bamboo steamer,
let the right hand zip into the opening of vapor.
Only you know your forefinger has touched
the delicate dough skin,
like a monkey snatching chestnuts from a fire.
After tapping the juicy dumpling, you pinch your earlobe
and smile, and I can always see in you the girl holding a hot bun,
whose ponytail bouncing as you hopscotch.
You, so cool, will be good at retrieving stars
from the Lethe, while I am in the thin white mist
sailing paper boats from the other side.
June 25, 2007
你左手掀开蒸笼，右手
探进扑面而来的热气，
只有你知道你的食指已经
触试了包子皮的嫩薄；
好像猴子火中取栗。
你仍然会捏着耳垂，微笑，
而我总能看到那个拿着热馒头的小女孩，
那么会跳房子，像那马尾小辫一样。
你将很会在奈何桥头
捞星星，而我就在对岸的
一片薄雾中，朝着你放纸船。
* * * *
When we are old, both of us will be brazen-faced.
I will use my palm to tell you
how for the first time my palm tried to cup your breast
but could not.
And you laugh, saying the hand was so different.
And I laugh too, saying the breast was so different.
Everything about us grows with time and weather,
and we grow with each other.
July 27, 2007
当我们老了，两人的脸都会变厚。
我会用手掌告诉你
我的手掌第一次怎样捂你的乳房
而没捂住。
你笑着说，那时的手很不一样。
我也笑道，那时的乳房很不一样。
有关我们的一切都随着时间改变，
而我们随着对方改变。
* * * *
When autumn inevitably turns into winter,
her body becomes drier,
and his hands are callous and coarse as ever.
She says they are perfect for soothing her back.
He does not scratch with fingertips, but sweeps with his palm.
July 26, 2007
当秋天不可避免地转成冬天，
她的皮肤越来越干燥，
而他手上的老茧一如既往地粗糙。
她说那双粗手挠她的后背最好，
而他不用指尖去抓，而是用手掌轻轻地扫。
* * * *
Words will be used between you and me
less and less, and so will be our doings.
Would we leave more for the young?
I will be conservative, silent about love
and never telling you goodbye,
but grunting about those intimacies of young lovers.
So I do not want to be away from you.
Whatever I say to whomever, I will no longer
glance at you, for you will be listening if you can.
I may not say I love you
just as I will take care of my health not for fear of death
but because I am more familiar with this world and you.
I will not ask what you remember,
and I’d fall into reveries when alone,
and let the past come to visit me.
And I will be friendly with the black guy
who has been following me for so many years.
July 28, 2007
语言，我们越用越少，
就像我们的行动。
我们会多留一些给年少的人么？
我的言行变得保守，再不谈论爱情、
出门时绝口不对你道别；
看到年轻恋人们的亲昵，
我会在喉咙里咕哝。
于是，我开始不愿离你太远。
无论我和谁在一起、无论说什么，我都不再
偷眼瞄着你，因为如果你能听见，你肯定会听。
我将不再说我爱你，
就像我会爱惜身体，不是害怕死亡，
而是有你的世界，我更为熟悉。
我也不会问你记得些什么，
当我独自一人，我便会沉入遐想，
任凭过去随意来访。
我将对那个黑衣人更加友善，
毕竟他从过去到现在已追随我一生。
* * * *
When your hearing dims, I may shout at you
and you will nod and smile.
When all your teeth fall, our kiss
will be soft and full.
When your sight fails, I can hold you
during the day, and you can take it for night;
when I am blind too,
we will not care about time, feeling for each other
and thinking about another life.
July 27, 2007
当你耳背了，我便对你大吼，
而你还会点头微笑。
当你牙齿掉了，我们的亲吻
将会更加柔软而充分。
当你视力衰退，我就总要拥着你，
而你可以将白天当作黑夜；
当我也瞎了，我们便再也不管什么时间，
一直抚摸着对方，心里想着另一生。
* * * *
Beyond two tiny lions with tinier bells, inside the gate,
the old couple sit, by the doors, each
on a bamboo stool, staring at the ground.
They are trying to capture every ant that crawls over the threshold,
and pulverize them between their thumb and forefinger.
One is heard saying:
when I lie dying,
remember to clear ants around my cooling bed.
Do not let me itch when I can no longer move.
In the yard, the sun is fierce
and the phoenix-tree is bonelessly lethargic.
June 27, 2007
两只小石狮挂着旧铃铛，守着身后
敞开的大门，两扇门旁，一对老夫妻
各自坐着一只小竹凳，盯着地面。
他们试图捏起爬进门槛的每一只蚂蚁，
用拇指和食指将它们捻死。
有一个说：
我死的时候，
不能让蚂蚁爬上我的冷铺。
不要让我不能动的时候感到痒痒。
院子里，太阳很辣，
梧桐树没骨头似的懒。
* * * *
Summer’s end. Harvest month.
By the pile, he tires out into snoring.
She unfolds a bale and carefully
spreads the stalks over his body.
Lying two arms away, she stares at the stars,
and the breeze seems still.
Morning breaks. Nothing happens.
She wakes up, finding his coat on her.
The man is reaping.
“Oh, I have overslept,” she says as if to herself,
feeling guiltily happy, like every time
she gets up later than he.
July 24, 2007
夏夜。麦收时节。
他累倒在麦垛下，进入鼾声。
她解开一捆麦子，仔细地
铺在他的身上。
她躺在两臂之外，盯着星星，
明明有夜风，她却感到了静止。
一切都未曾发生，清晨便来临了。
她醒来，发现身上盖着他的褂子。
他已经在割麦。
“啊，我睡过头了”，她宛若自语，
带着内疚的幸福，就像
每次她起得比他迟的时候。
* * * *
All the roads they’ve ever walked together
are ridges and dikes in the fields and unpaved lanes.
For better than half a life, they walk,
one behind the other.
They go to bed one after the other;
only on bed, they lie side by side.
Like the way they die.
June 28, 2007
他们一起走过的路
都是田垄和沟渠、没有铺面的土路。
他们这么走过了大半生，
一前一后。
他们上床也总是一前一后，
只有在床上，他们才并排
躺着。就像他们的死。
* * * *
The refrain will be repeated
for a few times before a song comes to
its end as if there is no end.
Some like the verses for the development,
some the refrain for its easy attunement.
But the melody only runs once and the same,
and although the lyrics may differ,
it follows a common chord progression
or comes with little variation.
Then, a short break of silence follows
like an elongated caesura, and no one knows
what marks the complete dying-away of the previous song.
As the next one begins, it sounds
with pronounced differences,
but the underlying structure varies little.
June 30, 2007
July 27, 2007
副歌，总会重叠几回，
在一首歌结束之前，它使得一首歌
犹如要萦回成一千阕。
有人喜欢听主歌，因为那些词展开一个故事；
有人喜欢副歌，因为便于记忆也易于上口。
虽然填进了不同的词句，曲调却只有一轮，
旋律所依的，仍是通用的和弦行进，至多稍加变奏。
然后，一个短暂的沉默，犹如拉长了的
休止，但无人能确定
前一首歌在何时彻底消音。
下一首歌开始，
一切都显然不同。
但声音下的结构几无差别。
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