Fan Jinghua: A Universe of One’s Own

　　　A Universe of One’s Own
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　by Fan Jinghua
It is the upturned eyes that have no balls.
Behind the balcony windowpanes, a statue
With an ancient silhouette, and the antique green
Of potted plants with golden contours.
The sun is mincing on ten hundred thousand feathers,
Its soft pads like litters of the mackerel sky.

Weed leaves unhinge themselves from the stalks,
The fluffy white heads drooping toward the water
Pursuing the memory of spring and the heaviness of reflection.
Crow cries fly the flags, yearning for the far,
And the sky is the only darkness, all colors hidden,
Changes changing within itself, unperceivable to eyes.

Yes, what changes and wavers is mind, always.
Warmth of the wall is dissipating from the lower part,
And the silkworms of narcissus fold up their reveries,
Blooming from nightfall to the depth of the night.
　　　　　　　Oct. 20, 2010


　　一个人的宇宙学

那仰脸者的眼珠才是凿空的
阳台玻璃后，雕像苍而不朽
盆栽的侧影鎏着金
阳光短促，缩起九万道
羽毛的柔脚，偶尔迂缓如卷云

芦柴叶从骨节上自我剥离
白头蓬松而黯淡，低垂着
向水中寻找失去的重量和春风
鸦声拉起怀远的旗幡，这惟一的
恢恢的色彩，变幻着

是的，动的一直是人心
墙壁的余温正在散去
蚕宝宝的水仙将幻想卷起
又从入夜独自开到夜深
　　　　　　2010年10月20日