Fan Jinghua: Scholar Stones

　　　　　　Scholar Stones

These cavity-permeated rocks were once kelps and sponge,
Salt and waves grown into their muscles and bones.
In their instinctive intimacy with water, they cannot hide their memory of home.
Border-crossers, bracketed in between two opposing waves
Of ocean and land, they have never learned how to roll;
No matter how distinctive, they are not of any kind.
A hill is formed at their remotely possible curves, shins to shoulders, feet on collarbones,
As if eggs are piled up, glued by droppings that fertilize the grasses.
In the cornucopias, grasses raise their blades and play in warm breezes,
Tickling the fossilized nerves of the stones.
Human beings have never been part of all this, and there were times
When people posed in front of them, and now they watch distantly,
Rarely framing their faces with the holes.
Yes, what else is worthy of memory except for the texture of one’s own?
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Sept. 11, 2010



　　　　太湖石

这些穿了孔的石头生为史前的海带与海绵
盐与浪蚀入肌骨，保持为嶙峋的轮廓
故乡的记忆只剩下与水本能的亲近
逾界者都是不善滚的，它们有别而无类
只在不多的平滑处相依相叠，如累卵，积留一点泥
于是最柔的小草爬上来，与蜗牛一道躲风避雨
或借着和煦的小风搔弄它们已成化石 的痒神经
人，从来都外界于它们，曾经在前后相依而弄姿
而如今更多的人只是远观，不会从中探出头来留影
除了自己的质地，再没什么值得纪念的历史
　　　　　　　　　　2010年9月11日