Xiao Maxian: Socks & An Empty Alley
These two tiny poems are the first ones that Xiao Maxian takes me by surprise and I still believe they are among her best and the most representative. “They do not imitate themselves, and yet they have already become so much like themselves”. These poems are too elusive to be translated.
Socks
By Xiao Maxian tr. Fan Jinghua
White socks dripping water
Ears hanging down
Necks on clips
Down and out
Not yet imitating, they already become themselves
With a small wind
They are so smug
With swaggering
Unkindness
袜子
小玛仙
白袜子滴水
耷着头
脖子被夹住
落魄样
没学自己就惟妙惟肖
小风一吹
又得意
摇头晃脚的
不厚道
An Empty Alley
By Xiao Maxian tr. Fan Jinghua
Just rained
Limestone slates become sassy
Eyes keen and brows clean-cut
Thin bamboo poles springy
Wet clothes hiding
No shoes hitting it
It dissipates by itself
空巷
小玛仙
刚下雨
青石板俏起来
眉眼清晰
小竹竿晃呀晃
湿衣服躲起来
没有鞋子敲它
自己浪
我读：
“耷”，本意“大耳朵”，一下子将一只白袜子等同于一只大白兔，于是生机顿时盎然，紧接着袜脖子被夹住，简直就是被吊死一样的“落魄”。诗人没有说为何，因为在当今的这个社会上（我们假设有一种“后现代的不确定性”），人的情绪等等恐怕再也没有了可以期待的“恒定性”，因此“落魄”实在可以是一种可消费的情绪。这样的状态自可用自身来界定，无须模仿他人，无须模仿历史，只需要随着自己的情绪就已经是对于自己的一次模仿了。
这令我想到一个叫做Simulacrum“拟像”的术语。这是一种随着时间（风尚）滑动的像，最终甚至连原来的像是什么也最终消失。于是，“小风一吹”，表情犹如橱窗上的滚动广告，令你眼中的afterimage余象还没来得及消失在眼底，它已经又是一副嘴脸了。面对如此“不确定性”的人或事，你如何应对？然而，诗人并没有呼吁什么，诗人生活于其中，和它一样高，看着它，笑。不是人情纸薄，只是不厚道而已。然而这“不厚道”并非什么指责，而是一种新的看的方式；在这种观看中，生机就是美。
《空巷》和上一首所指的差不多。在上面一首，诗人将一只袜子注入了生机，然后让它在风中成为空间的焦点，一个凝聚点。这首诗则反过来，让空间自己成为焦点，诗人抽调了里面本可以成为焦点的物。这诗中的景象多少令人想到戴望舒那首著名的诗，然而那首诗先将个人情感强加到一个视觉形象，然后借助一个无限延伸的空间“雨巷”（也是时间、情感），迫使读者先在视觉上紧接着在情感上与诗人认同。勿容置疑，戴望舒做得非常成功，那是一种古典的方式（当然意义层面可以是另一回事）。
诗人在这里将巷子腾空了，她的视点就是巷子本身，“青石板俏起来”，“俏”得犹如女子刚刚抹了保湿摩丝，湿湿的，更映衬出轮廓来了，巷子变成了一个眉目清秀的女人。这是一个很大胆的隐喻，骨肉分明，性感荡漾。这里有一种内爆似的张狂，毫不咄咄逼人；感觉敏锐的自然会感到，感觉不到的，它才不屑于撩拨。它“自己浪”，就是这种状态，自为的/自慰的游戏性。"看"就是参与了美的构建，"看到"使得眼下被充满。
Showing posts with label 小玛仙. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 小玛仙. Show all posts
Friday, November 6, 2009
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Xiao Maxian: Before Hunting
Before Hunting
by Xiao Maxian tr. Fan Jinghua
Today, God creates the sun and the moon…and for another day
And one more…
The heat is all ready
The sunset is ready too…as the setting
For your commemoration
You are silent, keeping a cool mind of a hunter
And a leopard is at the corner of your vision
Her spots
So luxurious and proud
Your barrel and cold light can not stop
The logic of a summer
Hunter, this feast you are going to
Should have begun a year ago…
You are but a latecomer
Your primitive forest
Is holding its breath, waiting for your return
To the worship.
June 30, 2009
狩猎之前
小玛仙
今天，上帝创造了日月——还有一天
还有一天……
炎热已经准备好了
夕阳也准备好了——为你做
纪念日的背景
你还是缄默，保持一个猎人的冷静
你的视角出现一只豹子
她的斑点
如此华丽和傲慢
你的枪口和寒光已无法阻止
一个盛夏的逻辑
猎人，你将去赴的这场盛宴其实
已经在一年之前开始……
你不过是一个迟到的人
你的原始森林
敛声静气，一直在等你归来
礼拜。
2009.7.30
by Xiao Maxian tr. Fan Jinghua
Today, God creates the sun and the moon…and for another day
And one more…
The heat is all ready
The sunset is ready too…as the setting
For your commemoration
You are silent, keeping a cool mind of a hunter
And a leopard is at the corner of your vision
Her spots
So luxurious and proud
Your barrel and cold light can not stop
The logic of a summer
Hunter, this feast you are going to
Should have begun a year ago…
You are but a latecomer
Your primitive forest
Is holding its breath, waiting for your return
To the worship.
June 30, 2009
狩猎之前
小玛仙
今天，上帝创造了日月——还有一天
还有一天……
炎热已经准备好了
夕阳也准备好了——为你做
纪念日的背景
你还是缄默，保持一个猎人的冷静
你的视角出现一只豹子
她的斑点
如此华丽和傲慢
你的枪口和寒光已无法阻止
一个盛夏的逻辑
猎人，你将去赴的这场盛宴其实
已经在一年之前开始……
你不过是一个迟到的人
你的原始森林
敛声静气，一直在等你归来
礼拜。
2009.7.30
Thursday, June 25, 2009
xiaomaxian: Dedication & Island
Two Poems by Xiaomaxian
Dedication
by Xiaomaxian tr. Fan Jinghua
I’ll give you my hair threads
To tie up
Your darkness
And give you a long time of separation—
I want to take
Between my feverish lips
The short-lived happiness
Of giddiness…the whirling of fallen leaves
Then, our mornings will be
Saturated with the fragrance of ginkgo
Our night is of peppermint
During the afternoon when the sun is fierce
We lie
Occasionally on the grains of gold
We are light for each other
June 22, 2009
献诗
小玛仙
我给你发丝
系住你的
黑暗
给你长久的离别——
我想用热烈的嘴唇
含住那些
瞬间的幸福
眩晕感……是树叶在摇晃
我们的早晨
会充满银杏树的味道
夜晚是薄荷的
在太阳凶猛的午后
我们偶尔躺在
金粒子上，我们是彼此的光
2009.6.22
Notes: This is a lovely love poem. In ancient China, as in the West, a lock of hair is the token for love, especially a keepsake for separated lovers. Here, the poet writes in the tradition, and yet the hair is for her beloved to tie up the low spirits, so that their long separation can become also something she gives out (otherwise it will be hard to endure). It seems that when separation is inevitable, she will take it as something cherishable too, like the hair. The word “threads” in Chinese is homonymic to “thinking (missing)” and has ubiquitously been used in classical poetry.
Island
by Xiaomaxian tr. Fan Jinghua
At this moment, moonlight pounces upon your heels
From your study to the courtyard
You light a cigarette
(Beauty dissolves like fragrance and sinks like jade, cruelly…
Ashes fly and smoke thins away)
Your lighter clinks
Shutting off all the light. At this moment
You are an island—in the night
Perhaps in what you see. You dive, you emerge.
June 24, 2009
岛屿
小玛仙
从你的书房到庭院，月光在此时扑向
经过的地方
你点燃一根烟
（香消玉损般美，残忍……灰飞烟灭）
火机嗒的一声轻响
关闭所有的光亮。此刻
你如一座孤岛——在夜晚
或许在你所见物中，你的沉浮。
2009.6.24
Dedication
by Xiaomaxian tr. Fan Jinghua
I’ll give you my hair threads
To tie up
Your darkness
And give you a long time of separation—
I want to take
Between my feverish lips
The short-lived happiness
Of giddiness…the whirling of fallen leaves
Then, our mornings will be
Saturated with the fragrance of ginkgo
Our night is of peppermint
During the afternoon when the sun is fierce
We lie
Occasionally on the grains of gold
We are light for each other
June 22, 2009
献诗
小玛仙
我给你发丝
系住你的
黑暗
给你长久的离别——
我想用热烈的嘴唇
含住那些
瞬间的幸福
眩晕感……是树叶在摇晃
我们的早晨
会充满银杏树的味道
夜晚是薄荷的
在太阳凶猛的午后
我们偶尔躺在
金粒子上，我们是彼此的光
2009.6.22
Notes: This is a lovely love poem. In ancient China, as in the West, a lock of hair is the token for love, especially a keepsake for separated lovers. Here, the poet writes in the tradition, and yet the hair is for her beloved to tie up the low spirits, so that their long separation can become also something she gives out (otherwise it will be hard to endure). It seems that when separation is inevitable, she will take it as something cherishable too, like the hair. The word “threads” in Chinese is homonymic to “thinking (missing)” and has ubiquitously been used in classical poetry.
Island
by Xiaomaxian tr. Fan Jinghua
At this moment, moonlight pounces upon your heels
From your study to the courtyard
You light a cigarette
(Beauty dissolves like fragrance and sinks like jade, cruelly…
Ashes fly and smoke thins away)
Your lighter clinks
Shutting off all the light. At this moment
You are an island—in the night
Perhaps in what you see. You dive, you emerge.
June 24, 2009
岛屿
小玛仙
从你的书房到庭院，月光在此时扑向
经过的地方
你点燃一根烟
（香消玉损般美，残忍……灰飞烟灭）
火机嗒的一声轻响
关闭所有的光亮。此刻
你如一座孤岛——在夜晚
或许在你所见物中，你的沉浮。
2009.6.24
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Xiaomaxian's The End and Fan Jinghua's The End
The End by Xiaomaxian and by Fan Jinghua
小玛仙的《最后》和得一忘二的《最后》
The End
by Xiaomaxian tr. Fan Jinghua
In the end, Duras’s Chinese lover died unheeded
(in a certain corner on earth)
Leaving her with the two years of eternity—enough to reimburse
The endless half-century that tails
In the end, Woolf pushed a large stone into her pocket
And walked into the River Ouse
("and I am wasting you life")
In the end, Rilke huddled in a rose
And Sappho leaped from a cliff
It was her choice—to die
For love
In the end, we all die, including love
"all that is solid melts into air"
But you remain, so obstinate
And sincere, in love
This makes me ashamed of myself
May 20, 2009
最后
小玛仙
最后，杜拉斯的中国情人悄悄死了
（在地球的某个角落）
留给她那永恒的两年——足以抵偿那之后
漫长的半个世纪
最后，伍尔夫在自己的口袋里装满了石块
走进了欧塞河
（“我不能再继续糟蹋你的生命”）
最后，里尔克藏身在玫瑰里
而萨福坠崖
这是她选择——为爱
死去。
最后，我们都会死去……连爱
“一切坚固的东西，都烟消云散了”
可是，你仍那么固执地
认真地……爱
这让我真惭愧。
2009年5月20日
After reading Xiaomaxian's "The End," I write a poem of the same title.
读了小玛仙的《最后》，然后我也写了一首《最后》。
The End
by Fan Jinghua
In the end, the process looks back, all the way
Its softness leaning against a non-existent wall
Blood-threads healing themselves into inlaid bruises
Veins sink finally into jade, hardening at the ought-to-be
Depth. Anywhere can now be a grave, mobile
Days on earth, can they be commensurable to the years in heaven
So that flaccid bodies could tighten up the strings of heart
For Truth, the aerialist, to do its tricks between one end and the other
Liquid of compassion seeps from the visible and its environs of nothingness
As oil in a lamp, where a bud of flame dances slow, in the contracting vault of night
May 21, 2009
最后
得一忘二
最后，过程在回顾，素来的
柔软靠在不存在的墙根，沉淀着
含血的愈合，而创伤依稀可见
纹，终于沉入玉中，硬化在应有的深度
从此，任何地方都是坟墓，移动的
大地的日子需要等同于天上的年岁
下垂的肉体才可能拉紧心的弦
为了真理，在高空走钢丝，杂耍
相思，从色相与空无的交界渗出相知的
液滴，如豆油灯，在夜的挤压下，冷艳
2009年5月21日
小玛仙的《最后》和得一忘二的《最后》
The End
by Xiaomaxian tr. Fan Jinghua
In the end, Duras’s Chinese lover died unheeded
(in a certain corner on earth)
Leaving her with the two years of eternity—enough to reimburse
The endless half-century that tails
In the end, Woolf pushed a large stone into her pocket
And walked into the River Ouse
("and I am wasting you life")
In the end, Rilke huddled in a rose
And Sappho leaped from a cliff
It was her choice—to die
For love
In the end, we all die, including love
"all that is solid melts into air"
But you remain, so obstinate
And sincere, in love
This makes me ashamed of myself
May 20, 2009
最后
小玛仙
最后，杜拉斯的中国情人悄悄死了
（在地球的某个角落）
留给她那永恒的两年——足以抵偿那之后
漫长的半个世纪
最后，伍尔夫在自己的口袋里装满了石块
走进了欧塞河
（“我不能再继续糟蹋你的生命”）
最后，里尔克藏身在玫瑰里
而萨福坠崖
这是她选择——为爱
死去。
最后，我们都会死去……连爱
“一切坚固的东西，都烟消云散了”
可是，你仍那么固执地
认真地……爱
这让我真惭愧。
2009年5月20日
After reading Xiaomaxian's "The End," I write a poem of the same title.
读了小玛仙的《最后》，然后我也写了一首《最后》。
The End
by Fan Jinghua
In the end, the process looks back, all the way
Its softness leaning against a non-existent wall
Blood-threads healing themselves into inlaid bruises
Veins sink finally into jade, hardening at the ought-to-be
Depth. Anywhere can now be a grave, mobile
Days on earth, can they be commensurable to the years in heaven
So that flaccid bodies could tighten up the strings of heart
For Truth, the aerialist, to do its tricks between one end and the other
Liquid of compassion seeps from the visible and its environs of nothingness
As oil in a lamp, where a bud of flame dances slow, in the contracting vault of night
May 21, 2009
最后
得一忘二
最后，过程在回顾，素来的
柔软靠在不存在的墙根，沉淀着
含血的愈合，而创伤依稀可见
纹，终于沉入玉中，硬化在应有的深度
从此，任何地方都是坟墓，移动的
大地的日子需要等同于天上的年岁
下垂的肉体才可能拉紧心的弦
为了真理，在高空走钢丝，杂耍
相思，从色相与空无的交界渗出相知的
液滴，如豆油灯，在夜的挤压下，冷艳
2009年5月21日
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Xiao Maxian: Cold Light
Xiao Maxian: Cold Light
寒光
小玛仙
它运送军队和粮食
植物迅速掠过
湖泊、沼泽反射寒光
冰映出豹子奔跑
划过的弧线——加速度撞在铁皮上
迸起稀疏的火花
所有的怜惜藏在泥土之下
向下，那岩石之下
更深的地方岩浆就要窒息
夜晚迷失的魂魄在归途攀上火车
Cold Light
by Xiao Maxian tr. Fan Jinghua
寒光
小玛仙
它运送军队和粮食
植物迅速掠过
湖泊、沼泽反射寒光
冰映出豹子奔跑
划过的弧线——加速度撞在铁皮上
迸起稀疏的火花
所有的怜惜藏在泥土之下
向下，那岩石之下
更深的地方岩浆就要窒息
夜晚迷失的魂魄在归途攀上火车
Cold Light
by Xiao Maxian tr. Fan Jinghua
It carries troops and grains
Plants sweep past swift
Lakes, swamps reflect cold light
Ice mirrors the curved line
Of a running leopard—acceleration bumps on the iron sheet
Spurting faint glitters of firework
All the compassionate cherished under the soil
Further down below the rocks
In the deeper places lava is suffocating
Souls lost in night are picking up trains on their return journey
My PS:
The poet has in her mind that the train in the poem is a metaphor for state apparatus, hence it carries troops and grains. Plants therefore refer to the forms of organic life, which are left behind by the insanely dashing forward train. It seems that the poet has too much to say out and she loses control of the poem. Whatever the leopard may represent, the lines lose their energy and speed after the “acceleration bumps on the iron sheet.”
Plants sweep past swift
Lakes, swamps reflect cold light
Ice mirrors the curved line
Of a running leopard—acceleration bumps on the iron sheet
Spurting faint glitters of firework
All the compassionate cherished under the soil
Further down below the rocks
In the deeper places lava is suffocating
Souls lost in night are picking up trains on their return journey
My PS:
The poet has in her mind that the train in the poem is a metaphor for state apparatus, hence it carries troops and grains. Plants therefore refer to the forms of organic life, which are left behind by the insanely dashing forward train. It seems that the poet has too much to say out and she loses control of the poem. Whatever the leopard may represent, the lines lose their energy and speed after the “acceleration bumps on the iron sheet.”
译后赘言：
诗人想到的是，火车是国家机器的暗喻，因此它运送的是军队和粮食。植物代表各种形式的有机生命，被疯狂向前冲的火车抛到了后面。似乎诗人有太多的话要说，因此有点失控了。无论那头豹子代表什么，“加速度撞在铁皮上”之后的句子就松散了，没有速度、没有运动、没有冲量。
My suggested version我建议的修改：
寒光
它运送军队和粮食
植物迅速掠过
湖泊、沼泽
冰的寒光映照豹子
奔跑的弧线——加速度撞在铁皮上
夜晚迷失的魂魄在归途攀上火车
Cold Light
It carries troops and grains
Plants sweep past swift
Lakes, swamps
Ice of cold light mirrors the curved line
Of a running leopard—acceleration bumps on the iron sheet
Souls lost in night have picked up trains on their return journey
诗人想到的是，火车是国家机器的暗喻，因此它运送的是军队和粮食。植物代表各种形式的有机生命，被疯狂向前冲的火车抛到了后面。似乎诗人有太多的话要说，因此有点失控了。无论那头豹子代表什么，“加速度撞在铁皮上”之后的句子就松散了，没有速度、没有运动、没有冲量。
My suggested version我建议的修改：
寒光
它运送军队和粮食
植物迅速掠过
湖泊、沼泽
冰的寒光映照豹子
奔跑的弧线——加速度撞在铁皮上
夜晚迷失的魂魄在归途攀上火车
Cold Light
It carries troops and grains
Plants sweep past swift
Lakes, swamps
Ice of cold light mirrors the curved line
Of a running leopard—acceleration bumps on the iron sheet
Souls lost in night have picked up trains on their return journey
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Xiao Maxian: Paradise Lost
Paradise Lost
by Xiaomaxian Wang Shasha
失乐园
小玛仙
我喜欢你弯曲，你变得面目全非难以辨认
你从树上窥视我——唤醒我
给我戴上玫瑰花冠，让欲望焚烧脸颊
那之后，世界是另外的样子，我是
极度欢喜过后的女人
2009.3.17
Paradise Lost
By Xiao Ma Xian (Wang Shasha) tr. Fan Jinghua
I like you to bend and see you change into something beyond recognition
You watch me stealthily from a tree—awaking me
Crowning me a rose-wreath, and letting desires burn my cheeks
Then, the world takes a new look, and I am
A post-enraptured woman
March 17, 2009
My postscript 译后赘言:
The evil, dangerous and ecstatic
You love something. You love to extremities. The idolized can never remain straight and commonplace. You love its potentials to startle and stone and stun you, and yes, it has already had the inclination but you are prepared for more, fiercer and crueler. You learn and enjoy the beauty in your want for more.
Your instincts lurk, ready to jump on the lurking ones and snatch them. You can be patient by chewing the memory of once or the imagination of the future one, like a review as well as a rehearsal; you fuel your own desires like accumulating the pieces of a dying idol; your last resort is to tease out the chance by stripping yourself piece by piece, and you know, to keep the play going, you must have the magic power to always have yet another “last one.”
The award is not the prize, but the reward effected by and upon the “me” in you, the “me” that acts in spite of you, the “me” that defies you to make you love it. At the end of the show, when the curtains have to fall, you realize that all the others had not existed at all. The only one is and has always been the “me” alone with you and in you. No more encore except for the afterglow.
The primal paradise is where the primitive takes place, for only once, while the paradise lost is a new paradise that is incorporated with memory. Nothing happened will pass. Therefore, the integrated paradise provides the possibility to re-live. This is better than eternity.
那邪恶的、危险的、狂喜的
你喜欢什么，你就喜欢到极致。被崇拜的，绝无可能保持竖直或者寻常。你喜爱的就是那潜在的可能，令你吃惊、瞠目结舌、僵硬晕眩。是的，你喜爱，你已经看出了那些可能，但你已准备好，尽管再来一些，更猛烈一些、更凶残一些。你在那凶残和猛烈中感到你欲望的强烈快感。
你的本能潜伏着，一旦那潜伏者出现，你随时扑上去，攫走。你可以很耐心，咀嚼着曾经有过的一次或者想象中的将来的一次，既是复习也是排练。你给自己的欲望添加燃料，好像一件一件收集着一个行将就木的偶像的遗物。你最后的一招是诱引，你将自己一件一件脱光，而你也知道，要想这一游戏能继续下去，你必须有那种魔法，总能变出又一件“最后一件”。
奖赏不是奖品，而是你内在的那个“我”激发出来的奖励，作用于你自己；那个“我”的行动公然违抗你，以此令你喜欢它。表演结束，帷幕必须落下的时候，你发现原来所有的他人都不存在，一直只有一个人，那个“我”独自陪伴你，在你内部。再无需加演，因为有余辉。
最初的乐园只是最原始的行为生发之地，只发生一次，而失乐园是一座新乐园，它将记忆也组合了进来。在此发生的，不会过去。因此，这个整合的乐园提供了永远重过一次的可能。这比永恒更好。
by Xiaomaxian Wang Shasha
失乐园
小玛仙
我喜欢你弯曲，你变得面目全非难以辨认
你从树上窥视我——唤醒我
给我戴上玫瑰花冠，让欲望焚烧脸颊
那之后，世界是另外的样子，我是
极度欢喜过后的女人
2009.3.17
Paradise Lost
By Xiao Ma Xian (Wang Shasha) tr. Fan Jinghua
I like you to bend and see you change into something beyond recognition
You watch me stealthily from a tree—awaking me
Crowning me a rose-wreath, and letting desires burn my cheeks
Then, the world takes a new look, and I am
A post-enraptured woman
March 17, 2009
My postscript 译后赘言:
The evil, dangerous and ecstatic
You love something. You love to extremities. The idolized can never remain straight and commonplace. You love its potentials to startle and stone and stun you, and yes, it has already had the inclination but you are prepared for more, fiercer and crueler. You learn and enjoy the beauty in your want for more.
Your instincts lurk, ready to jump on the lurking ones and snatch them. You can be patient by chewing the memory of once or the imagination of the future one, like a review as well as a rehearsal; you fuel your own desires like accumulating the pieces of a dying idol; your last resort is to tease out the chance by stripping yourself piece by piece, and you know, to keep the play going, you must have the magic power to always have yet another “last one.”
The award is not the prize, but the reward effected by and upon the “me” in you, the “me” that acts in spite of you, the “me” that defies you to make you love it. At the end of the show, when the curtains have to fall, you realize that all the others had not existed at all. The only one is and has always been the “me” alone with you and in you. No more encore except for the afterglow.
The primal paradise is where the primitive takes place, for only once, while the paradise lost is a new paradise that is incorporated with memory. Nothing happened will pass. Therefore, the integrated paradise provides the possibility to re-live. This is better than eternity.
那邪恶的、危险的、狂喜的
你喜欢什么，你就喜欢到极致。被崇拜的，绝无可能保持竖直或者寻常。你喜爱的就是那潜在的可能，令你吃惊、瞠目结舌、僵硬晕眩。是的，你喜爱，你已经看出了那些可能，但你已准备好，尽管再来一些，更猛烈一些、更凶残一些。你在那凶残和猛烈中感到你欲望的强烈快感。
你的本能潜伏着，一旦那潜伏者出现，你随时扑上去，攫走。你可以很耐心，咀嚼着曾经有过的一次或者想象中的将来的一次，既是复习也是排练。你给自己的欲望添加燃料，好像一件一件收集着一个行将就木的偶像的遗物。你最后的一招是诱引，你将自己一件一件脱光，而你也知道，要想这一游戏能继续下去，你必须有那种魔法，总能变出又一件“最后一件”。
奖赏不是奖品，而是你内在的那个“我”激发出来的奖励，作用于你自己；那个“我”的行动公然违抗你，以此令你喜欢它。表演结束，帷幕必须落下的时候，你发现原来所有的他人都不存在，一直只有一个人，那个“我”独自陪伴你，在你内部。再无需加演，因为有余辉。
最初的乐园只是最原始的行为生发之地，只发生一次，而失乐园是一座新乐园，它将记忆也组合了进来。在此发生的，不会过去。因此，这个整合的乐园提供了永远重过一次的可能。这比永恒更好。
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Xiao Maxian: Charma and the Lighter; Sisters
小玛仙诗二首
小玛仙的诗很容易被解读为一种精灵古怪的玄思幻想，我在这里选译的七首诗试图展示了一个不同于以往的诗人。
茶马和打火机
黑夜从山顶缓缓升起，茶马
你眼睛发出微光
能点亮星星
（像打火机那样！）
我真想立刻摇醒沉睡的梵高——真的，那是真的
银河就在头上悬垂，那么多星挤在一起！
挣扎着，摇摇欲坠
有一个巨大如蓝光的火盆
2008年11月20日
Charma and the Lighter
by Xiao Maxian tr. Fan Jinghua
小玛仙的诗很容易被解读为一种精灵古怪的玄思幻想，我在这里选译的七首诗试图展示了一个不同于以往的诗人。
茶马和打火机
黑夜从山顶缓缓升起，茶马
你眼睛发出微光
能点亮星星
（像打火机那样！）
我真想立刻摇醒沉睡的梵高——真的，那是真的
银河就在头上悬垂，那么多星挤在一起！
挣扎着，摇摇欲坠
有一个巨大如蓝光的火盆
2008年11月20日
Charma and the Lighter
by Xiao Maxian tr. Fan Jinghua
Night darkness rises slowly from the mountaintops, but Charma,
Your eyes glitter
And they can light stars
(The way a lighter does!)
How I want to wake up van Gogh from his sleep—really, that is real
Silver River is hanging above our heads, with so many stars crowded together!
It flounders to keep itself from falling down
Over there is a huge firepan of blue light
November 20, 2008
Comments: No matter how enormous the night over the mountains is, the poet can see the glitters of Charma’s eyes. When the glitter is compared to a lighter, we know it is from a human being. Only when that is a human being, the seer can be excited, and then the poet-seer wants to wake up Van Gogh, for he is the heart of poetry and art.
Your eyes glitter
And they can light stars
(The way a lighter does!)
How I want to wake up van Gogh from his sleep—really, that is real
Silver River is hanging above our heads, with so many stars crowded together!
It flounders to keep itself from falling down
Over there is a huge firepan of blue light
November 20, 2008
Comments: No matter how enormous the night over the mountains is, the poet can see the glitters of Charma’s eyes. When the glitter is compared to a lighter, we know it is from a human being. Only when that is a human being, the seer can be excited, and then the poet-seer wants to wake up Van Gogh, for he is the heart of poetry and art.
极短评：山顶上的黑夜多么大啊，但是她能看到茶马眼睛的微光；这种光被比为打火机，那才是人。而人必须是人的时候才会如此激动，而这个激动的诗人于是要唤醒的就是诗心、艺心，在此就是“沉睡的梵高”。
姊妹
我们从一个地方来，那儿——黑暗而柔软
我们来自泥土
或透明的天空，海洋
我们来自花朵——但那花园已经消失
作为流亡者（你不可否认这一点
我们从不知道，故乡的名）
我们用一种畏惧
来爱——周围，人群，街道，墙壁
或者穿过树梢的风
彼此。我们来的那个地方
已经找不到了
2008年10月8日
Sisters
by Xiao Maxian tr. Fan Jinghua
姊妹
我们从一个地方来，那儿——黑暗而柔软
我们来自泥土
或透明的天空，海洋
我们来自花朵——但那花园已经消失
作为流亡者（你不可否认这一点
我们从不知道，故乡的名）
我们用一种畏惧
来爱——周围，人群，街道，墙壁
或者穿过树梢的风
彼此。我们来的那个地方
已经找不到了
2008年10月8日
Sisters
by Xiao Maxian tr. Fan Jinghua
We came from one place; it is dark and velvety over there.
We came from soil
Or transparent sky, ocean
We came from flowers, although the garden has disappeared
As exiles (you can not deny
That we have never learned the name of hometown)
We love
With a kind of terror, we love environs, crowds, streets, walls
Or the winds through treetops,
And each other. The place we came from
Can no longer be found
October 8, 2008
We came from soil
Or transparent sky, ocean
We came from flowers, although the garden has disappeared
As exiles (you can not deny
That we have never learned the name of hometown)
We love
With a kind of terror, we love environs, crowds, streets, walls
Or the winds through treetops,
And each other. The place we came from
Can no longer be found
October 8, 2008
Comments: This poem is about women, as everyone can see. It tells the disappearance of the source and origin of femininity and motherliness is rooted out in the society.
极短评：这首诗写女人，这是人人都会承认的。然而，这首诗说出了女人之软从根源上的消失，读来令人惊恐，原来我们的社会甚至已经远离了滋养母性的时代。
极短评：这首诗写女人，这是人人都会承认的。然而，这首诗说出了女人之软从根源上的消失，读来令人惊恐，原来我们的社会甚至已经远离了滋养母性的时代。
About the Poet:
小玛仙，原名王莎莎，生于七十年代，现居住黑龙江。04年开始触网写作，用笔名冯碧落、余小蛮，写作诗歌、随笔、小说等；诗歌作品见《诗选刊》中国诗歌年代特别大展、《2005－2006华语诗歌双年展》等多家杂志与选本。以《夜读清水寺》为主的一组诗歌获得2007年第二届叶红全球女性诗奖二等奖。现任诗生活诗歌论坛版主及诗生活博客管理员。
Xiao Maxian, penname of Wang Shasha, born in late 1970s, writes poetry, essays and stories since 2004. Her work has appeared in various magazines and anthologies, and she won the Second Prize for Ye Hong International Women Poetry Competition in 2007. She now lives in Daqing, Heilongjiang Province, and serves as a webmaster in Poemlife.com, an influential poetry website in Mainland China.
Xiao Maxian: Home-Coming; A Scarecrow in the City; The Pleasure of Life
小玛仙诗三首《回归》《城市稻草人》《生活的喜悦》
回归
有一天大雾迷漫，他看到大山
橄榄树
但这果然是出生之地吗？
帕涅罗珀，多么遥远而陌生……
他想念小岛，黄昏，岩洞深处
听卡吕普索喊他的名字——尤利西斯
如果用这七年的生活交换
自由（但什么才是自由？）
他的回归
却如同埋葬
2008年10月7日
Home-Coming
by Xiao Maxian tr. Fan Jinghua
Big fogs overflow into the day, and he sees big mountains
And olive trees,
But is this really his birthplace?
Penelope, how distant and alienated…
He misses the small island, the dusk, the deep cave
Echoing his name in Calypso’s voice -- Ulysses
If the seven-year life is to be exchanged
Into freedom (what on earth is freedom?)
His homecoming would be
An act of interring
October 7, 2008
Comments: The first three lines contain in the illusion (fogginess) a kind of tangible realness (visibility), but the realness is subject to questions: Is this really…? The doubtfulness of one’s birthplace makes the most fundamental questions and ambivalence about existence (freedom and home-coming) appear illusionary. The unsaid link between freedom and home is love, which both pushes and pulls a man (?).
极短评：起句中，那种幻（在雾中）含着一种可以确凿的真（可以看到），而那种真却又是有待质问的：那果然是么？这使得有关人类生存的最基本问题与矛盾之一（自由与归家）很虚幻。自由与归家之间没被说出的联系（向心力与外心力）竟然都可以是爱情。
城市稻草人
你夺走我的麦子和庄园
夺走我的城市
我的心
麦子金灿灿地发烧了
你说爱我——这真是一把匕首
2008年9月27日
A Scarecrow in the City
You’ve usurped my wheat and farm
Also my city
Plus my heart
Wheat is running a golden fever
While you say you love me—such a dagger
September 27, 2008
Comments: The purpose of a scarecrow is, of course, to scare crows, but when seen in the city it means that it only takes away the stalk and farmland. Can you accept the oath of faith from this lifeless life?
极短评：稻草人的目的原本是吓走乌鸦，然而放在城市里却仅仅是占有麦秸和农田的象征，没有生命，你能接受它的爱情誓言么？
生活的喜悦
——致马可·夏加尔
我可爱的画家，此时
正午睡
他的眼镜还戴在鼻梁上，像是在梦里
也思考着。我可爱的，有着臃肿身体的老男孩
你花白的头发，让你看上去多么迷人
像是给你镀上了圣光
像是污浊的生活让你越来越
纯粹了。
2008年8月18日
The Pleasure of Life
-- To Marc Chargal
My lovable painter is at this moment
Taking his noon nap
His spectacles on his nose, as if he falls into thought
Even in his dream. My adorable old boy, you have an overblown body
Your hair is snowy, which makes a charming sight
As if you are silvered with saintly halo
And turbid life enables you to live
Purer and purer.
August 18, 2008
Comments: Old men can be blessed for their talent and wisdom, for these qualities are seen as flesh on the body. Old but not necessary to hide. This is regained naivete.
极短评：老男人有福了，因为他的才华与智慧被看得堆积在身体上，甚至不再有任何掩饰，一种复拾的真纯，多么憨啊。
回归
有一天大雾迷漫，他看到大山
橄榄树
但这果然是出生之地吗？
帕涅罗珀，多么遥远而陌生……
他想念小岛，黄昏，岩洞深处
听卡吕普索喊他的名字——尤利西斯
如果用这七年的生活交换
自由（但什么才是自由？）
他的回归
却如同埋葬
2008年10月7日
Home-Coming
by Xiao Maxian tr. Fan Jinghua
Big fogs overflow into the day, and he sees big mountains
And olive trees,
But is this really his birthplace?
Penelope, how distant and alienated…
He misses the small island, the dusk, the deep cave
Echoing his name in Calypso’s voice -- Ulysses
If the seven-year life is to be exchanged
Into freedom (what on earth is freedom?)
His homecoming would be
An act of interring
October 7, 2008
Comments: The first three lines contain in the illusion (fogginess) a kind of tangible realness (visibility), but the realness is subject to questions: Is this really…? The doubtfulness of one’s birthplace makes the most fundamental questions and ambivalence about existence (freedom and home-coming) appear illusionary. The unsaid link between freedom and home is love, which both pushes and pulls a man (?).
极短评：起句中，那种幻（在雾中）含着一种可以确凿的真（可以看到），而那种真却又是有待质问的：那果然是么？这使得有关人类生存的最基本问题与矛盾之一（自由与归家）很虚幻。自由与归家之间没被说出的联系（向心力与外心力）竟然都可以是爱情。
城市稻草人
你夺走我的麦子和庄园
夺走我的城市
我的心
麦子金灿灿地发烧了
你说爱我——这真是一把匕首
2008年9月27日
A Scarecrow in the City
You’ve usurped my wheat and farm
Also my city
Plus my heart
Wheat is running a golden fever
While you say you love me—such a dagger
September 27, 2008
Comments: The purpose of a scarecrow is, of course, to scare crows, but when seen in the city it means that it only takes away the stalk and farmland. Can you accept the oath of faith from this lifeless life?
极短评：稻草人的目的原本是吓走乌鸦，然而放在城市里却仅仅是占有麦秸和农田的象征，没有生命，你能接受它的爱情誓言么？
生活的喜悦
——致马可·夏加尔
我可爱的画家，此时
正午睡
他的眼镜还戴在鼻梁上，像是在梦里
也思考着。我可爱的，有着臃肿身体的老男孩
你花白的头发，让你看上去多么迷人
像是给你镀上了圣光
像是污浊的生活让你越来越
纯粹了。
2008年8月18日
The Pleasure of Life
-- To Marc Chargal
My lovable painter is at this moment
Taking his noon nap
His spectacles on his nose, as if he falls into thought
Even in his dream. My adorable old boy, you have an overblown body
Your hair is snowy, which makes a charming sight
As if you are silvered with saintly halo
And turbid life enables you to live
Purer and purer.
August 18, 2008
Comments: Old men can be blessed for their talent and wisdom, for these qualities are seen as flesh on the body. Old but not necessary to hide. This is regained naivete.
极短评：老男人有福了，因为他的才华与智慧被看得堆积在身体上，甚至不再有任何掩饰，一种复拾的真纯，多么憨啊。
Xiao Maxian: How to Live; Accidental
小玛仙诗两首《怎样生活》《意外》
怎样生活
小玛仙
磨刀
浇水
布衣粗食。
沉默
离开十字路口
和人群
羞涩
继续骄傲
和徒劳的孤单
深陷花香
骑马
和解一种毒药
是什么
你一说出
就会消失？
2008年7月8日
How to Live
by Xiao Maxian tr. Fan Jinghua
Whetting,
Watering,
Course food and clothes.
Silent,
Away from crossroads
And crowds.
Shy,
Carrying on with pride
And futile loneliness.
Indulging in fragrance,
Riding a horse
And counterdosing a poison.
What is it
That ceases to be
Once you’ve said?
July 8, 2008
Comments: When asked about the difference after satori, a Buddhist master replies: Before, I shouldered water and swept the floor; after, I shoulder water and sweep the floor. This girl is a poet, and she is still what she has been.
极短评：大师说，得道前挑水扫地，得道后挑水扫地。这女人写了诗，依然依然。
意外
第三个路口我遇到骗子、小偷和布道者
后来，遇到了骆驼和鱼群
鸽子飞来的时候我开始学会了仰头
原来天空已这么澄明
2008年6月23日
Accidental
by Xiao Maxian tr. Fan Jinghua
At the third crossroad I met a trickster, a thief and a preacher
Later on, I saw camels and a school of fish
When doves fly by I am learning to raise my head to look up
The sky has already turned so clear
June 23, 2008
Comments: Three means many, each has its own way, and there are pleasure and pain in the sky, on the earth and under the water. My perspectives, upward or downward, front or back, to the left or the right, are all that I get.
极短评：三，又言多；人，各有各的道；海陆空，各自的苦乐；我的看法，前后上下左右，但看你如何看了。
怎样生活
小玛仙
磨刀
浇水
布衣粗食。
沉默
离开十字路口
和人群
羞涩
继续骄傲
和徒劳的孤单
深陷花香
骑马
和解一种毒药
是什么
你一说出
就会消失？
2008年7月8日
How to Live
by Xiao Maxian tr. Fan Jinghua
Whetting,
Watering,
Course food and clothes.
Silent,
Away from crossroads
And crowds.
Shy,
Carrying on with pride
And futile loneliness.
Indulging in fragrance,
Riding a horse
And counterdosing a poison.
What is it
That ceases to be
Once you’ve said?
July 8, 2008
Comments: When asked about the difference after satori, a Buddhist master replies: Before, I shouldered water and swept the floor; after, I shoulder water and sweep the floor. This girl is a poet, and she is still what she has been.
极短评：大师说，得道前挑水扫地，得道后挑水扫地。这女人写了诗，依然依然。
意外
第三个路口我遇到骗子、小偷和布道者
后来，遇到了骆驼和鱼群
鸽子飞来的时候我开始学会了仰头
原来天空已这么澄明
2008年6月23日
Accidental
by Xiao Maxian tr. Fan Jinghua
At the third crossroad I met a trickster, a thief and a preacher
Later on, I saw camels and a school of fish
When doves fly by I am learning to raise my head to look up
The sky has already turned so clear
June 23, 2008
Comments: Three means many, each has its own way, and there are pleasure and pain in the sky, on the earth and under the water. My perspectives, upward or downward, front or back, to the left or the right, are all that I get.
极短评：三，又言多；人，各有各的道；海陆空，各自的苦乐；我的看法，前后上下左右，但看你如何看了。
About the Poet:
小玛仙，原名王莎莎，生于七十年代，现居住黑龙江。04年开始触网写作，用笔名冯碧落、余小蛮，写作诗歌、随笔、小说等；诗歌作品见《诗选刊》中国诗歌年代特别大展、《2005－2006华语诗歌双年展》等多家杂志与选本。以《夜读清水寺》为主的一组诗歌获得2007年第二届叶红全球女性诗奖二等奖。现任诗生活诗歌论坛版主及诗生活博客管理员。
Xiao Maxian, penname of Wang Shasha, born in late 1970s, writes poetry, essays and stories since 2004. Her work has appeared in various magazines and anthologies, and she won the Second Prize for Ye Hong International Women Poetry Competition in 2007. She now lives in Daqing, Heilongjiang Province, and serves as a webmaster in Poemlife.com, an influential poetry website in Mainland China.
小玛仙，原名王莎莎，生于七十年代，现居住黑龙江。04年开始触网写作，用笔名冯碧落、余小蛮，写作诗歌、随笔、小说等；诗歌作品见《诗选刊》中国诗歌年代特别大展、《2005－2006华语诗歌双年展》等多家杂志与选本。以《夜读清水寺》为主的一组诗歌获得2007年第二届叶红全球女性诗奖二等奖。现任诗生活诗歌论坛版主及诗生活博客管理员。
Xiao Maxian, penname of Wang Shasha, born in late 1970s, writes poetry, essays and stories since 2004. Her work has appeared in various magazines and anthologies, and she won the Second Prize for Ye Hong International Women Poetry Competition in 2007. She now lives in Daqing, Heilongjiang Province, and serves as a webmaster in Poemlife.com, an influential poetry website in Mainland China.
Monday, August 25, 2008
Wang Shasha: No Hold
No Hold
by Xiao Maxian tr. Fan Jinghua
Like a huge flamingo
sluggishly….
The distant horizon motionless,
trees and me
mute. During my walk
the setting sun swoops down, suddenly,
into my heart.
August 17, 2008
无执
小玛仙
像一只巨大的火鸟
缓缓地……
远处的地平线不动声色
沉默的树
和我。散步时
夕阳扑下来，一头扑进我的
心中
2008年8月17日
Okay, this is just a lovely small poem, which does not have to be heavy with meaning. I love this piece, especially for the dynamics between motion and stillness as well as between intention and non-intention. The poem itself is quite simple and clear; it is about the setting sun. The setting sun here means warmth, and therefore it makes the impending night warm. It is this warmth that makes the motionlessness of distant horizon and the muteness of “trees and me” imply a certain fulfillment, as if they are waiting for an unannounced fall of something. In this apparent unintentional waiting, the sun swoops headlong. And now we know that the slowness of the sun-bird is actually searching for a place.
P.S. What if this poem is about a man or a love?
这首诗并没有多么沉重的意义，就是一首可爱的小诗。我喜欢这首诗中的动与静以及有心与无心之间看似随意的关系。这首诗很简单明了，写夕阳落下；但是这里的夕阳是温暖的，于是也就是夜晚会温暖。这使得前面的“一动不动”以及“沉默”具有了一种满足感，似乎是在期待某种突然降临。于是，似无意似有意之中，夕阳扑了下来，有方向地扑进了我的心里。再回头，那缓慢的火鸟（夕阳）简直就是在寻找了。
附加一句：如果这首诗写的是人或者感情呢？
by Xiao Maxian tr. Fan Jinghua
Like a huge flamingo
sluggishly….
The distant horizon motionless,
trees and me
mute. During my walk
the setting sun swoops down, suddenly,
into my heart.
August 17, 2008
无执
小玛仙
像一只巨大的火鸟
缓缓地……
远处的地平线不动声色
沉默的树
和我。散步时
夕阳扑下来，一头扑进我的
心中
2008年8月17日
Okay, this is just a lovely small poem, which does not have to be heavy with meaning. I love this piece, especially for the dynamics between motion and stillness as well as between intention and non-intention. The poem itself is quite simple and clear; it is about the setting sun. The setting sun here means warmth, and therefore it makes the impending night warm. It is this warmth that makes the motionlessness of distant horizon and the muteness of “trees and me” imply a certain fulfillment, as if they are waiting for an unannounced fall of something. In this apparent unintentional waiting, the sun swoops headlong. And now we know that the slowness of the sun-bird is actually searching for a place.
P.S. What if this poem is about a man or a love?
这首诗并没有多么沉重的意义，就是一首可爱的小诗。我喜欢这首诗中的动与静以及有心与无心之间看似随意的关系。这首诗很简单明了，写夕阳落下；但是这里的夕阳是温暖的，于是也就是夜晚会温暖。这使得前面的“一动不动”以及“沉默”具有了一种满足感，似乎是在期待某种突然降临。于是，似无意似有意之中，夕阳扑了下来，有方向地扑进了我的心里。再回头，那缓慢的火鸟（夕阳）简直就是在寻找了。
附加一句：如果这首诗写的是人或者感情呢？
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Xiao Maxian: High-Summer Oleander
High-Summer Oleander
By Xiao Maxian tr. FAN Jinghua
Because a wrong turn
Has a reason, Oleander, this turn
Leads to you. You, sitting there
Nonchalant in a huge pot,
Belong to no one but
The high summer and a chance encounter.
August 11, 2008
盛夏的夹竹桃
小玛仙
因为走错了路
因为走错路是为了遇到你
夹竹桃，你漫不经心
坐在一个巨大的花盆里
谁也不属于
属于夏天，和邂逅。
2008.8.11
This is a freshly written poem, lovely. The poet is one of the many internet-based writers in China, who represent the vigor and buoyancy of contemporary Chinese poetry hard to be found in the print media. This poem is quite typical of the poet's temperament, as compared to the poems I've already introduced in this blog. Although the poet wins a quite noted prize, she seems still "unrecognized" in the "official" media.
About the Poet:
Xiao Maxian, penname of Wang Shasha, born in late 1970s, writes poetry, essays and stories since 2004. Her work has appeared in various magazines and anthologies, and she won the Second Prize for Ye Hong International Women Poetry Competition in 2007. She now lives in Daqing, Heilongjiang Province, and serves as a webmaster in Poemlife.com, an influential poetry website in Mainland China.
By Xiao Maxian tr. FAN Jinghua
Because a wrong turn
Has a reason, Oleander, this turn
Leads to you. You, sitting there
Nonchalant in a huge pot,
Belong to no one but
The high summer and a chance encounter.
August 11, 2008
盛夏的夹竹桃
小玛仙
因为走错了路
因为走错路是为了遇到你
夹竹桃，你漫不经心
坐在一个巨大的花盆里
谁也不属于
属于夏天，和邂逅。
2008.8.11
This is a freshly written poem, lovely. The poet is one of the many internet-based writers in China, who represent the vigor and buoyancy of contemporary Chinese poetry hard to be found in the print media. This poem is quite typical of the poet's temperament, as compared to the poems I've already introduced in this blog. Although the poet wins a quite noted prize, she seems still "unrecognized" in the "official" media.
About the Poet:
Xiao Maxian, penname of Wang Shasha, born in late 1970s, writes poetry, essays and stories since 2004. Her work has appeared in various magazines and anthologies, and she won the Second Prize for Ye Hong International Women Poetry Competition in 2007. She now lives in Daqing, Heilongjiang Province, and serves as a webmaster in Poemlife.com, an influential poetry website in Mainland China.
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Wang Shasha: Beaver Queen
Beaver Queen
by Wang Shasha tr. Fan Jinghua
She hides herself in the deep sea, grinding teeth,
and avoids contact with air and dust.
When the sunlight makes for a nice morning, she smells
the scent of trees and yawns, making faces at nothingness
and searching for beautiful inutile toys.
When doing these, she radiates the sparkles of a maiden,
and some even warm the forest and marsh.
Under their silence goes an uncontainable subtle praise,
which makes her more sprightly and her radiance gentler.
The forest and marsh are so infatuated with her and surrender to her,
and even contain the wildness in them to acknowledge her dominion,
for she has neither scepter nor crown.
Yet, she is a queen, a self-evident Regina,
with or without courtiers or troops of her own.
Then she begins to trust humans, and becomes gloomy,
pain and softness flowing from her graphite pupils.
She gestates new lives in her and gives births in isolation,
regarding the sky in utter meekness.
If no one is willing to accommodate such an alien like her,
She will have to roam for her errant life.
"There are things one knows well to cherish, but
has to be wise enough to give up."
The gentle eyes of the beaver are smiling and attentive.
As long as she is alive, she is full of passion,
although sometimes she may appear to be a defeated warrior,
totally at a loss yet with a colossal pride
to die with her ultimate chaste
She has big and black eyes to secrete secrets,
and love to see dark blue water freezing into pale blue ice.
If schools of fish turn into constellations, she’d love to
overturn every order and farewell.
August 2006
海狸女王
王莎莎
她躲在深海里磨牙齿，借此躲开
空气和灰尘
阳光很好的早晨，她嗅树的香
打呵欠，对着虚无扮鬼脸
寻找漂亮、无用的小玩具
做这些事情时她身上闪着少女的光辉
有一些打动了树林和水泽
沉默下有些细微的赞美喷发
让她得以更快活，投射温柔的神采
后来山林和水泽无法自拔的爱她
请她统治，收好它们的野生——以象征特权
她没有王冠和权杖
可她是一个女王
没有王朝和军队，她是自然的女王
后来她因轻信人类而黯淡
乌黑的瞳孔流出痛苦和柔软
她蕴育新的生命，分娩时也悄无声息
温顺的仰视天空
如果没有人，肯收留这个异类
她将又一次开始流浪
“有些事物，你明明知道珍贵，却还是
选择放弃”。
海狸温柔的眼睛，在微笑和凝视
她只要活着，就充满激情
有时像个失败的勇士，又狼狈
又保持骄傲
保持最后的童贞直到死去
她有大而黑的眼睛，泄露秘密
喜欢深蓝的海水变成蓝冰
如果鱼变成群星，她将颠倒秩序和
告别。
2006.8
About the Poet:
王莎莎，生于七十年代，现居住黑龙江。04年开始触网写作，用笔名冯碧落、余小蛮，写作诗歌、随笔、小说等；诗歌作品见《诗选刊》中国诗歌年代特别大展、《2005－2006华语诗歌双年展》等多家杂志与选本。以《夜读清水寺》为主的一组诗歌获得2007年第二届叶红全球女性诗奖二等奖。现任诗生活诗歌论坛版主及诗生活博客管理员。
Wang Shasha, born in late 1970s, writes poetry, essays and stories since 2004. Her work has appeared in various magazines and anthologies, and she won the Second Prize for Ye Hong International Women Poetry Competition in 2007. She now lives in Daqing, Heilongjiang Province, and serves as a webmaster in Poemlife.com, an influential poetry website in Mainland China.
by Wang Shasha tr. Fan Jinghua
She hides herself in the deep sea, grinding teeth,
and avoids contact with air and dust.
When the sunlight makes for a nice morning, she smells
the scent of trees and yawns, making faces at nothingness
and searching for beautiful inutile toys.
When doing these, she radiates the sparkles of a maiden,
and some even warm the forest and marsh.
Under their silence goes an uncontainable subtle praise,
which makes her more sprightly and her radiance gentler.
The forest and marsh are so infatuated with her and surrender to her,
and even contain the wildness in them to acknowledge her dominion,
for she has neither scepter nor crown.
Yet, she is a queen, a self-evident Regina,
with or without courtiers or troops of her own.
Then she begins to trust humans, and becomes gloomy,
pain and softness flowing from her graphite pupils.
She gestates new lives in her and gives births in isolation,
regarding the sky in utter meekness.
If no one is willing to accommodate such an alien like her,
She will have to roam for her errant life.
"There are things one knows well to cherish, but
has to be wise enough to give up."
The gentle eyes of the beaver are smiling and attentive.
As long as she is alive, she is full of passion,
although sometimes she may appear to be a defeated warrior,
totally at a loss yet with a colossal pride
to die with her ultimate chaste
She has big and black eyes to secrete secrets,
and love to see dark blue water freezing into pale blue ice.
If schools of fish turn into constellations, she’d love to
overturn every order and farewell.
August 2006
海狸女王
王莎莎
她躲在深海里磨牙齿，借此躲开
空气和灰尘
阳光很好的早晨，她嗅树的香
打呵欠，对着虚无扮鬼脸
寻找漂亮、无用的小玩具
做这些事情时她身上闪着少女的光辉
有一些打动了树林和水泽
沉默下有些细微的赞美喷发
让她得以更快活，投射温柔的神采
后来山林和水泽无法自拔的爱她
请她统治，收好它们的野生——以象征特权
她没有王冠和权杖
可她是一个女王
没有王朝和军队，她是自然的女王
后来她因轻信人类而黯淡
乌黑的瞳孔流出痛苦和柔软
她蕴育新的生命，分娩时也悄无声息
温顺的仰视天空
如果没有人，肯收留这个异类
她将又一次开始流浪
“有些事物，你明明知道珍贵，却还是
选择放弃”。
海狸温柔的眼睛，在微笑和凝视
她只要活着，就充满激情
有时像个失败的勇士，又狼狈
又保持骄傲
保持最后的童贞直到死去
她有大而黑的眼睛，泄露秘密
喜欢深蓝的海水变成蓝冰
如果鱼变成群星，她将颠倒秩序和
告别。
2006.8
About the Poet:
王莎莎，生于七十年代，现居住黑龙江。04年开始触网写作，用笔名冯碧落、余小蛮，写作诗歌、随笔、小说等；诗歌作品见《诗选刊》中国诗歌年代特别大展、《2005－2006华语诗歌双年展》等多家杂志与选本。以《夜读清水寺》为主的一组诗歌获得2007年第二届叶红全球女性诗奖二等奖。现任诗生活诗歌论坛版主及诗生活博客管理员。
Wang Shasha, born in late 1970s, writes poetry, essays and stories since 2004. Her work has appeared in various magazines and anthologies, and she won the Second Prize for Ye Hong International Women Poetry Competition in 2007. She now lives in Daqing, Heilongjiang Province, and serves as a webmaster in Poemlife.com, an influential poetry website in Mainland China.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Xiao Maxian: Night Reading of the Cool Water Temple
Night Reading of the Cool Water Temple
by Xiao Maxian tr. Fan Jinghua
Once, an ancient acquaintance entered a temple, carrying into it the moonlight cool as water. Hence, the name of the temple. Or, such has been the rumor.
The night is clear, the moon full, I treading on creaky gravels;
on this pebble path, no dust, no traces of beings, no enchanted entanglement,
bamboo leaves stoop to touch the shoulders that pass by.
Stone steps deliver in their ferry a faint coat of frost, and
from the acupoint of zenith, sleep is dropping, cool.
Also dropping is my set of emptied bowels, the empty courtyard and the trees.
This calmness holds a graceful posture and grave solemnity, in which
an ancient acquaintance in a cloak of moonlight entered the gate of the obscure temple.
Where the moonlight drops, the coolness flows like water. The temple got its name
ever since, and, moonlight-washed, it stood immaculate from the dust of this world.
One man, one temple. One moon, one shadow. Time flows, as does
the ignorance of man, and emptiness has been flowing, wordless for a hundred years.
Now, I’ve come, not because I have the great wisdom of transcendence.
I am entangled with worldly tentacles, but I have a lasting lamp in me.
In the cloak of moonlight I wade through the water of time, treading on the crispy light.
This temple is isolated, with a gate like a mirror. From the depth of its emptiness
comes a faint hubbub of sufferings. The gate clams up like the doors of a heart. Killing
has never ceased, human blood and flesh scattered in the outer space
across the spread-eagle Mercury River. A myriad of spirits glitter in their own night.
The fact is the temple and the night and the moon are all my fabrication.
Only in meditation am I housed in a cassock, and hence a being is a temple, everything
stilled. Perhaps I am journeying through all my previous lives toward a past one,
while this acquaintance of mine not only stands as a shade but also has respiration,
warmth and dignity. The light for my edification, igniter for my epiphany, he is
so gracious and civilized. But for the acupuncture of coldness that keeps me awake
I may evolve into a thought and dream, orbiting into oblivion.
If not for the clarity I attained in awakeness, I would still take here as an illusion,
but on the heels of this acquaintance, I entered here, a chance encounter achieved.
If my body is the temple, I am already initiated to true freedom. With no exceptions,
all the highways and roads to any direction are winding paths to the Temple.
夜读凉水寺
小玛仙
——故人曾于某夜带月光入寺，清凉如水。小寺因此得名。杜撰者说。
今夜清朗，月圆，我踩着细碎的卵石
小径无尘无痕，亦无纠缠迷醉
竹叶擦肩。
石阶渡一层白霜，百会清凉，睡眠垂落
然和我一起垂落的还有空肠胃
空荡的院落及树枝。这安宁姿态优雅，肃穆庄严
故人曾身披月光，夜行、入寺。清辉处，寒凉如水
此前小寺无名。被月光洗净后决绝今世之尘
一人一寺，尚还一月一影
时如流水而今人无觉，空寂无声百年。如今我来
我非有大彻悟，亦尘丝未断，只因心中常照一盏孤灯
如今我身披月光穿越时间之水，如今我踏着薄脆的月光
此寺隔绝，但寺门如镜。空寂深处隐隐传来
悲苦嘈杂。寺门紧闭如心门。杀戮之事并未消失
人间血肉碎在天际，银河当空。无数闪耀的灵在各自的夜
事实上，关于这个凉水寺的夜晚和圆月，都由我杜撰而来
我只是冥想自己身披袈裟，一人一寺，空寂无声
但也许我正穿过重重的前世来到曾经
故人在月光下不仅仅是一个影子，他亦有温度、气息、庄严。
他亦在某个时候对我彬彬有礼，点化、教诲。若非冰冷的刺痛提醒
我可作一思一梦绕行而忘却。若非澄明我仍将此处认做幻境
但故人来后我即入此寺，于圆月夜偶然相逢
若此身即此寺，我便真懂得自由了。来去尘世的高速公路或任何之路
无一不是通向凉水寺的弯曲小径。
by Xiao Maxian tr. Fan Jinghua
Once, an ancient acquaintance entered a temple, carrying into it the moonlight cool as water. Hence, the name of the temple. Or, such has been the rumor.
The night is clear, the moon full, I treading on creaky gravels;
on this pebble path, no dust, no traces of beings, no enchanted entanglement,
bamboo leaves stoop to touch the shoulders that pass by.
Stone steps deliver in their ferry a faint coat of frost, and
from the acupoint of zenith, sleep is dropping, cool.
Also dropping is my set of emptied bowels, the empty courtyard and the trees.
This calmness holds a graceful posture and grave solemnity, in which
an ancient acquaintance in a cloak of moonlight entered the gate of the obscure temple.
Where the moonlight drops, the coolness flows like water. The temple got its name
ever since, and, moonlight-washed, it stood immaculate from the dust of this world.
One man, one temple. One moon, one shadow. Time flows, as does
the ignorance of man, and emptiness has been flowing, wordless for a hundred years.
Now, I’ve come, not because I have the great wisdom of transcendence.
I am entangled with worldly tentacles, but I have a lasting lamp in me.
In the cloak of moonlight I wade through the water of time, treading on the crispy light.
This temple is isolated, with a gate like a mirror. From the depth of its emptiness
comes a faint hubbub of sufferings. The gate clams up like the doors of a heart. Killing
has never ceased, human blood and flesh scattered in the outer space
across the spread-eagle Mercury River. A myriad of spirits glitter in their own night.
The fact is the temple and the night and the moon are all my fabrication.
Only in meditation am I housed in a cassock, and hence a being is a temple, everything
stilled. Perhaps I am journeying through all my previous lives toward a past one,
while this acquaintance of mine not only stands as a shade but also has respiration,
warmth and dignity. The light for my edification, igniter for my epiphany, he is
so gracious and civilized. But for the acupuncture of coldness that keeps me awake
I may evolve into a thought and dream, orbiting into oblivion.
If not for the clarity I attained in awakeness, I would still take here as an illusion,
but on the heels of this acquaintance, I entered here, a chance encounter achieved.
If my body is the temple, I am already initiated to true freedom. With no exceptions,
all the highways and roads to any direction are winding paths to the Temple.
夜读凉水寺
小玛仙
——故人曾于某夜带月光入寺，清凉如水。小寺因此得名。杜撰者说。
今夜清朗，月圆，我踩着细碎的卵石
小径无尘无痕，亦无纠缠迷醉
竹叶擦肩。
石阶渡一层白霜，百会清凉，睡眠垂落
然和我一起垂落的还有空肠胃
空荡的院落及树枝。这安宁姿态优雅，肃穆庄严
故人曾身披月光，夜行、入寺。清辉处，寒凉如水
此前小寺无名。被月光洗净后决绝今世之尘
一人一寺，尚还一月一影
时如流水而今人无觉，空寂无声百年。如今我来
我非有大彻悟，亦尘丝未断，只因心中常照一盏孤灯
如今我身披月光穿越时间之水，如今我踏着薄脆的月光
此寺隔绝，但寺门如镜。空寂深处隐隐传来
悲苦嘈杂。寺门紧闭如心门。杀戮之事并未消失
人间血肉碎在天际，银河当空。无数闪耀的灵在各自的夜
事实上，关于这个凉水寺的夜晚和圆月，都由我杜撰而来
我只是冥想自己身披袈裟，一人一寺，空寂无声
但也许我正穿过重重的前世来到曾经
故人在月光下不仅仅是一个影子，他亦有温度、气息、庄严。
他亦在某个时候对我彬彬有礼，点化、教诲。若非冰冷的刺痛提醒
我可作一思一梦绕行而忘却。若非澄明我仍将此处认做幻境
但故人来后我即入此寺，于圆月夜偶然相逢
若此身即此寺，我便真懂得自由了。来去尘世的高速公路或任何之路
无一不是通向凉水寺的弯曲小径。
About the Poet:
小玛仙，原名王莎莎，生于七十年代，现居住黑龙江。04年开始触网写作，用笔名冯碧落、余小蛮，写作诗歌、随笔、小说等；诗歌作品见《诗选刊》中国诗歌年代特别大展、《2005－2006华语诗歌双年展》等多家杂志与选本。以《夜读清水寺》为主的一组诗歌获得2007年第二届叶红全球女性诗奖二等奖。现任诗生活诗歌论坛版主及诗生活博客管理员。
Xiao Maxian, penname of Wang Shasha, born in late 1970s, writes poetry, essays and stories since 2004. Her work has appeared in various magazines and anthologies, and she won the Second Prize for Ye Hong International Women Poetry Competition in 2007. She now lives in Daqing, Heilongjiang Province, and serves as a webmaster in Poemlife.com, an influential poetry website in Mainland China.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Xiao Maxian: Elegy
Elegy
by Xiao Maxian tr. FAN Jinghua
By now, you can no longer be
The property of my sorrows
Starlight and moonlight are too distant, no warmth
By now, I’ve known your wounds
The craters by meteorites
To you, each collision is fatal
I can only imagine the terrible beauty
And how it
Leads you back to life again
You can, but can rely only
On the crooked lines of blood vessels
To extend the order in your kingdom
By now I can be neither the layered green in your mountains
Nor the clear fluid along your riverbed
Between the imaginable details in your landscape are hidden all the water elements
On days off, among the people coming out of supermarkets
With what are called Materials in their hands
I am one, the same as all the others
Feb. 7, 2008
哀歌
小玛仙
如今，我不再用你
做悲伤的道具
星光和月光，太遥远的光辉没有温度
如今，我看到你的伤口
那些陨石留下的坑痕
每一次撞击对你都是致命的
我只能想象那些暴烈之美
是如何
让你重生
只能，凭借你血管的曲线
延长你王国里的秩序
但如今我不是你山峦的叠翠
不是你河床的流动
那些水分子，藏在你能想象的细节里
在休息日，人们从超市出来
手里拎出叫做物质的东西
我也和他们一样。
About the Author:
WANG Shasha, with a few more epithets in the internet such as Xiao Ma Xian 小玛仙 or Yu Xiaoman 余小蛮 or Feng Biluo冯碧落, was born in later 1970s. Her general style is magically imaginative, with a kind of fairy tale buoyancy. This poem shows the side of her as a maturing female whose emotional world comes into contact with the everyday life.
by Xiao Maxian tr. FAN Jinghua
By now, you can no longer be
The property of my sorrows
Starlight and moonlight are too distant, no warmth
By now, I’ve known your wounds
The craters by meteorites
To you, each collision is fatal
I can only imagine the terrible beauty
And how it
Leads you back to life again
You can, but can rely only
On the crooked lines of blood vessels
To extend the order in your kingdom
By now I can be neither the layered green in your mountains
Nor the clear fluid along your riverbed
Between the imaginable details in your landscape are hidden all the water elements
On days off, among the people coming out of supermarkets
With what are called Materials in their hands
I am one, the same as all the others
Feb. 7, 2008
哀歌
小玛仙
如今，我不再用你
做悲伤的道具
星光和月光，太遥远的光辉没有温度
如今，我看到你的伤口
那些陨石留下的坑痕
每一次撞击对你都是致命的
我只能想象那些暴烈之美
是如何
让你重生
只能，凭借你血管的曲线
延长你王国里的秩序
但如今我不是你山峦的叠翠
不是你河床的流动
那些水分子，藏在你能想象的细节里
在休息日，人们从超市出来
手里拎出叫做物质的东西
我也和他们一样。
About the Author:
WANG Shasha, with a few more epithets in the internet such as Xiao Ma Xian 小玛仙 or Yu Xiaoman 余小蛮 or Feng Biluo冯碧落, was born in later 1970s. Her general style is magically imaginative, with a kind of fairy tale buoyancy. This poem shows the side of her as a maturing female whose emotional world comes into contact with the everyday life.
Monday, February 11, 2008
Fan Jinghua: A Love Song Without Words
A Love Song Without Words
For Zhao Dongni & Wang Shasha
At the end of the day, it’s
A paper full of scratches and scribbles;
At the end of the night, it’s
A paper of blankness I’m facing.
The words needed me to write them down
So that they can fly away, visibly.
You might ask, as I can imagine in the dark:
What does it read? ––It doesn’t read.
What does it write? —It writes nothing.
What does it mean? —It means love.
“Then,” you chime, “it is a song of love.”
Yes, I know you know words matter the least.
I have a pen, I have a heart and a brain,
But it’s the hands that interrupt and betray.
They resist to touch and convey,
Not attempting the distance between wake and sleep.
When the whistle of the first train startles me,
I fold up and put into an envelope a poem without words.
Love songs are inevitably written with sorrys,
And this one I have finally written off.
It means, therefore I don’t have to be the words’ host.
A sutra without words was written to be meaningful
For those whose eyes never touched it.
Words are but marks in the rubbing of a palimpsest,
But love, I am what you are, always.
Jan. 26, 2008
无言的爱之诗
献给Y&Z
一天尽了，一张纸被划满了
车水人流，纵横、虚实、曲线、弧；
一夜将尽，痕迹一一退消，
这张纸腾出了满满的空白。
字词需要我，它们需要我将它们写出，
以便它们的逃逸在视觉中有过停留。
你或许会设问，验证我的暗中设想：
这该怎么读？——它无法读出。
它写着什么？——写的是空白。
那是什么意思？——这意味着爱。
你张口便有旋律：啊，这是爱的诗篇。
是，我知道你知道，字最不重要。
我有一支笔，我有一颗心，还有头脑，
但是手总插在它们之间，作梗。
它们拒绝触摸、拒绝传递体温，它们从不拥抱
成一个环路，也不努力伸展，连接睡与醒的指尖。
当早班火车的第一声汽笛将我惊起，
我匆匆叠起这张纸，将一首无字的诗塞入信封。
所有的爱之诗最终都由抱憾与歉愧写成，
而这一首我终于能够写到无需再写。
它是意义，因此我不再是词语的寄主。
为了那些从未见识过的眼睛，
无字真经也被涂抹，敷衍上了教义。
经文，不过是重写本的拓片，背景沉实，
字是空白，而我，love，原本就是你。
2008年1月28日
For Zhao Dongni & Wang Shasha
At the end of the day, it’s
A paper full of scratches and scribbles;
At the end of the night, it’s
A paper of blankness I’m facing.
The words needed me to write them down
So that they can fly away, visibly.
You might ask, as I can imagine in the dark:
What does it read? ––It doesn’t read.
What does it write? —It writes nothing.
What does it mean? —It means love.
“Then,” you chime, “it is a song of love.”
Yes, I know you know words matter the least.
I have a pen, I have a heart and a brain,
But it’s the hands that interrupt and betray.
They resist to touch and convey,
Not attempting the distance between wake and sleep.
When the whistle of the first train startles me,
I fold up and put into an envelope a poem without words.
Love songs are inevitably written with sorrys,
And this one I have finally written off.
It means, therefore I don’t have to be the words’ host.
A sutra without words was written to be meaningful
For those whose eyes never touched it.
Words are but marks in the rubbing of a palimpsest,
But love, I am what you are, always.
Jan. 26, 2008
无言的爱之诗
献给Y&Z
一天尽了，一张纸被划满了
车水人流，纵横、虚实、曲线、弧；
一夜将尽，痕迹一一退消，
这张纸腾出了满满的空白。
字词需要我，它们需要我将它们写出，
以便它们的逃逸在视觉中有过停留。
你或许会设问，验证我的暗中设想：
这该怎么读？——它无法读出。
它写着什么？——写的是空白。
那是什么意思？——这意味着爱。
你张口便有旋律：啊，这是爱的诗篇。
是，我知道你知道，字最不重要。
我有一支笔，我有一颗心，还有头脑，
但是手总插在它们之间，作梗。
它们拒绝触摸、拒绝传递体温，它们从不拥抱
成一个环路，也不努力伸展，连接睡与醒的指尖。
当早班火车的第一声汽笛将我惊起，
我匆匆叠起这张纸，将一首无字的诗塞入信封。
所有的爱之诗最终都由抱憾与歉愧写成，
而这一首我终于能够写到无需再写。
它是意义，因此我不再是词语的寄主。
为了那些从未见识过的眼睛，
无字真经也被涂抹，敷衍上了教义。
经文，不过是重写本的拓片，背景沉实，
字是空白，而我，love，原本就是你。
2008年1月28日
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