chuanghu: Killing Mozart

　　Killing Mozart
　　　　　　　　by Chuanghu (Window) 　tr. Fan Jinghua
It is me who killed him. Really. Like killing my dreams.
The killing proved easy and smooth, and I left no tails.
Unbelievably immaculate! Even I myself could no longer
Remember the when and how of the killing.
Maybe by the sea, where he took the blue waves
For his notes, the white crests his dream lovers.
Maybe under an apple tree, where he unwittingly
Swallowed down a petal of the fragrant flower
Dripping potion of evils and taboos. Or maybe
In my dreams when I killed him with the mundanely trivial reality,
With cowardly cold heart. He was so young, his eyes
So melancholically bright. Like flowers in rain. My youth!


　　杀死莫扎特
　　　　　　　　　窗户
他真被我杀死了。像杀死自己的梦
我轻松杀死了他。没留下任何痕迹
连自己都无法相信。因为我记不起
在什么时候，怎么杀死他的
也许在海边。他以为蓝色的波涛
就是他向往的音符。白色的浪花
就是他梦中的情人。也许在苹果树下
芬芳的苹果花充满罪恶与禁忌的毒液
他不小心吞下一瓣。也许在我梦里
我用日常、琐碎的现实；软弱、冷漠的心
杀死他。他那么年轻。眼睛那么忧郁
明亮。像雨中之花。我的青春！


About the Poet诗人简介:
　　Chuanghu is the pronunciation of the name but it means “Window.” I read his poems and like them much. We occasionally exchange a few words through the “comments” button in our blogs. His real name, I don’t know; his age, I don’t know; his profession, I don’t know. He constantly brands his poetry writing as “taking notes,” which I’d frequently refer to my own writing. The playing down something serious may be taken as his reverence toward poetry, and the quality is also found in his poetry. For a youth about 30 (as I guess), he has a voice of maturity, not indulging in the anguish of a quarter-life crisis, not exaggerating the increasingly heavier responsibilities befalling him. He has a language of agility, not densely decorated, not laconically dry. He makes his inner world felt, but he chooses not to be overly expressive or impressive. By the way, he lives in Hangzhou, one of the most characteristic cities of the Southern Yangtze River culture, which, although I usually do not buy the environment-determinant claims of Madame de Staël, does suggest some qualities of his poetry.
　　窗户是一个人的名字，我读他的诗，很喜欢。我们偶尔在博客下面的“评论”栏中交换几个字，但是他的真名我不知道，他的年龄我不知道，他的职业我也不知道。他总是将自己的诗歌写作称之为“笔记”，而我也是一直这么自称自己的诗歌的。他如此低调处理写诗这么很严肃的行为，或许可以视为他对于诗本身的一种敬畏。他的诗歌也显示出如此特质。作为一个三十岁左右（我猜想的），他具有一种成熟的声音，没有沉溺于Quarterlife（四分之一人生）危机（后青春期躁动），也没有夸大越来越沉甸甸的生存责任。他的语言轻捷灵活，没有浓郁的装饰，也不精简得枯干。他能够令他的内心被人感触到，但是却又并不强势地富于表情或者急于感人。顺便说一句，他住在杭州，一座最具有传统的江南地域文化的城市，我之所以指出这一点，虽然我通常并不怎么赞同史达尔夫人的地域决定论，因为我觉得他的诗歌中确实显示出一些地域文化特征。