Cheng Ying: Hand in Hand We Sit on the Roof Beam

　　Hand in Hand We Sit on the Roof Beam
　　　　　　　　　　by Cheng Ying tr. Fan Jinghua

The one I’ve been feeding is exhausted
I sit with her on the roof beam
Tears of farewell barely contained in her eyes
She begrudges the way I’ve kept distance from things
But held attachment for her
What a wonder is her head that keeps lowered for me
She even stoops to draw herself near things, striving to plant
Their love for peace into my heart, while I watch her attentively
And observe her consumed face
Her live experience has been solely for me
No soul mates, no sisters
My shameless curiosity wants to find out
How she is humiliated and deceived
By her inner loss and confusion
And how her proud head is battered by fresh eggs

Now we sit hand in hand under the beam
She counts the number of times love flashes at me
Its bewitching colors and broken utensils
Her hands emulate the industry of an old grandma’s
Her eyes perform more than merely gaze or look around, her lips
Become fuller due to the passion for kissing
Things are allowed to permeate her bowels, rising and falling
And also she wants to permeate me. She says
That’s freedom, but I, insatiable, grow
Lighter and lighter on the only warm tree branch over the cloud
Scattering her tears on my skin and taking them for
My own wounds, bleeding
She is fed with my cereals and grains
And I attempt over-indulged carnal pleasure to accelerate her aging
But she gleams like the most delicate flower

Now she is worn out
Her smiles fainter and fainter
She hopped onto the roof beam, sitting by me
“You dodge from our issue
For love is doomed to be a clandestine career
My body is far from ripeness
But its desire has long outgrown the age”
Her legs dangling in sorrow, in exaltation
(They have measured many roads)
Her eyes downcast
She leans inward and bends to another one
An inexplicable film clouds up her eyes
What does she use to feed? To what end is she so carried away?—
No longer does she speak to me
No longer does her bright face turn to me


　　我们手拉手坐到房梁　　　　　　　　　　成婴
我喂养的人已经疲倦
我与她坐到房梁
她眼中噙着告别的泪水
她开始怨恨我与事物的距离
却想与她相依为命
她美妙的头颅，为我一低再低
她去亲近事物，她努力把它们的平静之爱
放到我的胸中，而我专情地注视
观察她被磨损、消耗的面容
她为我经历
没有知己不再有姐妹
我不知羞耻的好奇心, 是想看她
被内心的迷乱怎样羞辱和欺骗
被新鲜的鸡蛋砸到骄傲的头

现在我们手拉手坐在房梁下
她数出为我闪现过的爱情
巫合的色彩, 破碎的器具
她的双手学习老祖母的勤劳
眼睛从来不只是凝视、张望，嘴唇
因为热爱亲吻而变得宽阔了
她让事物穿透自己的脏腑, 此起彼伏
同时她想穿透我，她说
这才是自由。而我不知餍足
愈发轻盈, 在云端这唯一温暖的枝杈上
把她的眼泪蘸到皮肤，当成自己身体上
有了伤口流出了血
我的五谷杂粮喂养她
我用皮肉过度的欢悦催促她衰老
她却长得更像了一朵娇嫩的花

如今她是疲惫了
她开始淡淡微笑
和我一跃坐上房梁
“你顾左右而言它
原来爱情注定是一项隐秘的事业
我的身体远未成熟
欲望却已变得古老”
摇晃着走过很多路的双腿
既是悲伤又是欢欣
她低垂下眼睛
她向内俯向另一个人
她的眼神变得扑朔迷离
她用什么喂养，她为什么而沉醉
----她不再与我说话
她不再明亮地面向我


成婴，71年生，广东人，获得硕士，主攻庙学，现居北京。建筑史研究者和纪录片导演，著有诗集《坐房梁》。
About the Author:
Cheng Ying, born in 1971 in Guangdong, is a researcher on architectural history and a documentary film director. She received her MA in architecture from Tsinghua University, focusing on the study of Confucian Temples and Schools. She has published a book of poetry Sitting on the Roof Beam. She now resides in Beijing.

Cheng Ying: Memory

Cheng Ying: Memory


　　　Memory
　　　　　　　　　　by Cheng Ying tr. Fan Jinghua

Old women, do they recollect in the same way?
I’ve spent too much time remembering,
Not solely because life is boringly long—
I bring forth to my offspring what has been engraved on my body,
And what’s been written by the body, I deliver once and again
Till it frees itself through nerve-ends. At midday,
I pluck the berries of my hard work
To feed my diligent breasts;
As for the seeds of pain, I pick them out
And once every month I see them off to Lethe.


　　　记忆
　　　　　　　　　成婴

年老的女人，会这么回忆吗
我花费太多的时间，用以记忆
不尽然是生命冗长---
我将刻录到身体的，孕养给后代
身体所铭写的，一遍遍传送
直到逸出神经末梢。午间
我摘下辛勤劳获的浆果
喂养孜孜难倦的乳房
疼痛的籽实，拣择出来
每月一次，我亲自送往忘川


About the Author:
Cheng Ying, born in 1971 in Guangdong, is a researcher on architectural history and a documentary film director. She received her MA in architecture from Tsinghua University, focusing on the study of Confucian Temples and Schools. She has published a book of poetry Sitting on the Roof Beam. She now resides in Beijing.

成婴，71年生，广东人，获得硕士，主攻庙学，现居北京。建筑史研究者和纪录片导演，著有诗集《坐房梁》。