Showing posts with label Hanxin. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hanxin. Show all posts

Sunday, April 19, 2009

Hanxin: Six Poems

Six Poems by Hanxin
英译寒馨六首

  读完那本小说
        寒馨(1968-)
始终也没解决
没有什么被真正解决了
只是时间在生活里流动着
只是流动的时间露了个窗
有些身体的风
不可抑制地泄出来
     2009-1-26

  After Finishing the Novel
      by Hanxin (1968-)  tr. Fan Jinghua
I find after all there is no solution
Nothing has been really settled
It is time that flows in life
It is the flowing time that opens a window
That is all
And winds of bodies
Discharge themselves, unstoppable
     Jan. 26, 20009


  你是我的瓶子
        寒馨(1968-)
你是我的瓶子
对待你的态度
我更像易碎品
    2009-2-11

  You Are My Bottle
      by Hanxin (1968-)  tr. Fan Jinghua
You are my bottle
My attitude to you
Is more like a fragile product
     Feb. 11, 2009


  无题
        寒馨(1968-)
人群中的每个树坑。
拉链的锁扣。
你有一件不得不穿的衣服。
     2009.1

  Untitled
      by Hanxin (1968-)  tr. Fan Jinghua
Every tree-pit in the populated crowd.
The lock hole of zippers.
You have a coat, which you have to wear.


  现在我在河对岸
        寒馨(1968-)
现在我在河对岸
大树顶
一只快要发芽的坚果里
你抓不到
喊不回来
我拒谈人间之事
     2009.2

  Now I am on the Other Side of the River
      by Hanxin (1968-)  tr. Fan Jinghua
Now I am on the other side of the river
On a treetop
In a nut which is about to bud
You cannot grip me
Cannot call me out
I refuse to say anything about the human world
         Feb. 2009

  
        寒馨(1968-)
第七层楼的一扇窗

装得下对面整条街
时间是猛烈的风
你是刮不走的一个点
     2009.2

  Watching
      by Hanxin (1968-)  tr. Fan Jinghua
On the seventh storey, a window
Eye
Can take in the whole street on the other side
Time is a fierce wind
You, a post that can be blown away
         Feb. 2009

  我看见了
        寒馨(1968-)
那间大的房屋,厅堂
有时是满的、拥堵,流动人形的水流
有时只有零星的镶嵌物
人群剥落的碎片。这里寄存着
医院救治不了的疾患

更多的时候,它是空的
只有阳光自高的窗口
从早到晚,扫射那些黑暗
静极了。哦,还有钟声
发自房顶的钟楼、钟楼边的鸽子,或是谁的胸腔
我在哪?在里面吗?一直不动地成为那黑暗的一部分?
或许不
           2009-2-4

  I See
      by Hanxin (1968-)  tr. Fan Jinghua
That big house, where sometimes
The living-hall is filled and jammed and the stream
Of flowing figures is sparsely inlaid
With human shards from the crowd. Here is the safe
Where incurable illnesses are kept out of the hospital.

More often, it is empty
Except for the sunlight that slants down through the window
From morning to dusk, strafing the darkness
Dead silent. Oh, there is still ringing
In the tower over the roof, among the startled doves, or someone’s chest
Where am I? Inside there? A dark part constant and unmoving?
Maybe not
            Feb. 4, 2009

Thursday, April 16, 2009

Hanxin: Lover


  Lover
        by Hanxin (1968-)  tr. Fan Jinghua
Under the wide-brimmed hat, the cool
White head of a thirsty sea
Is still growing new shoots of ache

I notice that the body has been slightly relocated
I hear the palms pressing on the table, the window and the sounds of wind
And those that can do nothing about their own leaving
Make noises of friction


  情人
     寒馨(1968-)
圆边帽子下,渴的海
冷却的白头
还在生长疼的新芽

我发觉身体被微微移动
听见手掌按压桌子、窗和风声
那些不由自主要离开的事物
发出的摩擦声
My Commentary:
  No thumbtack can pin the shadow of a cloud down to a wall. Hanxin feels the most gossamer, ephemeral and ethereal, and her expression purposefully avoids pinning it down. She gives it a form, to make it palpable and concrete, and yet it is only for the vision, as she does not allow it to be loaded with anything heavy and external.
  In this poem, we can safely assume a scene, in which the speaker is standing by sea or watching a person who is standing there. The wide-hammed hat is both a shelter and disguise, and in the eyes under it flows a sea of thirsty water. In this language, a woman’s passion is compared with the autumn water in the eyes, and now it is a thirsty sea, salty and bitter. The white head is both the breaker and a metaphor for old age, hence the metaphor for something lasting. Coolness also takes on double references, both the distance and the cool-headedness. Love can be passionate burning, and it can be rationally long-lasting. Here, it washes toward the shore, repeatedly, and yet this love, apparently constant, is unavailable.
  Then, the speaker turns to herself. First, she feels her body response to the distant water, and then, she hears something between herself and the things she can lay hands on. All seem to be leaving, and in their desperation, they do not leave smears or scratches, and they can only make noises by confliction, by rubbing the surface with their unsmoothness, and by resisting the relative motion. The noises are cries, heard or unheard.

译后赘言:
  没有图钉可以将云的影子钉在墙上。寒馨能感到最短暂易逝的、最蛛丝飘忽的感觉,而她的表达也有意地避免将那种感受按实、固定。她给了它一个形式,令它可感可触,但这只是视觉上的,她并没有容许它装载外界的沉重。
  我们可以这样假设这首诗中的场景。说话人站在海边或者看到有一个人站在海边。宽边帽既是遮挡又是伪装,那下面的眼睛我们见不到,但是我们知道它们看着海水,也就是一顷海水。汉语中,女人的情是比做眼中的盈盈秋水的,而这首诗中那是一片饥渴的咸涩的海。“白头”既是海浪的白沫也比喻老年,这是忠贞不渝,“冷却的白头”则既是头脑冷静,也是一种距离和心冷。爱,有激情热烈的燃烧,也有柔韧持久的冷静。在此,它一浪又一浪地冲涌海岸,看来坚决、不变,实则并不可得。
  于是,说话人转向自身。首先,说话人感到了自己身体对于远方之水的回应,接着听到她自己伸手可触的日常也传来声音。同样的真切,但是都不可逮,都在离去。留下的,也就是一种离去的痕迹。不是什么污渍或者划痕,而只能是一些噪音。离去的,以不平的表面摩擦另一物体的表面,抵制着相对运动。摩擦出来的噪音,宛若哭喊,无论是被人听到的,还是没人听到的。

Monday, August 25, 2008

Hanxin: A Dog that Kissed Me

  A Dog That Kissed Me
        Hanxin (1968-) tr. Fan Jinghua
It scampered up, its breaths audible,
Paws on my shoulder, licking me
Once and again,
Soft, warm, and a little sour.

So conscientious! Without fences or thorns,
The road in the body was broad and bright,
Free to come and free to go.
This was much more gratifying
Than love with a man

  一只吻我的狗
       寒馨

它跑来,呼哧呼哧
趴在我肩上,舔我
一遍又一遍
软软的、暖暖的,微酸

它多认真,没有栅栏、没有刺
身体里的路宽敞、明亮
来去无束
这比同人相恋
舒服很多
       2008年8月23日

  "Kiss" in the title indicates that the speaker is comparing the dog with men, and therefore the acts of the dog shall be understood along with the comparison. The first stanza is very detailed, going slowly, just as the phrase "over and over" tries to represent. The first stanza, then, is a long and patient foreplay. However, a sense of proportion underlies beauty, and in this poem the foreplay appears to be a little too long and it expects a heightened climax. But, this poem is essentially anticlimactic, for it is not about the heightened sensation of love but about the subsiding "comfort" (one of the literal meanings of 舒服 in the last line).
  "Conscientious" may not be a satisfying translation, as the original phrase 认真 has multiple means from dutiful, dedication and diligent to earnest and taking to heart. The contrast is that the dog is a better partner than a man, at least. The reason is implied in the following phrases of "no fences, no thorns," and the consequence (?) is the broad and bright road in the body, without any 束restraint. The 束 here is also very slippery, and the etymological meaning evokes the image of (binding into) a bundle, but it may mean 拘束trammel, 管束control, 约束bond and commitment.
  As the poem does not use punctuations at the end of lines, and the three lines in the second stanza do not necessarily read the way I have explicated. An alternative translation may be:
    It is so conscientious, no fences, no thorns
    The road in the body broad and bright
    No restraint for coming and going
  The climax appears to be when men are brought into the play, but it is the absence of men that the comparison is made. The comparison between a man (or men) and a dog needs further explication. In Chinese, it is the most derogatory insult to compare a man to a beast (more derogatory than calling a policeman a pig in English). Therefore, the animal pleasure of sex is never a morally justifiable enjoyment. The phrase 舒服 (comfortable) implies that the pleasure comes not from the fulfilling gratification of orgasm but from a kind of infiltrating interfusion which may be better understood in terms of subsiding phase.
  However, if the pursuit of orgasm is not self-justified, my interpretation can only be taken as a metaphor. That is, this poem is not a metaphor about sexual relation between men and women in a society, but should be interpreted literally. We may simple say that this is a poem about the appreciation of the love from a pet. It is about the relation between human beings and the animals, and the pets may provide more ready “comfort” than human beings do.

  这首诗的第一节写得很具体,就是狗舔自己的感觉,用了吻,自然不仅仅是一种喜欢的意思,还是一种拟人,于是狗就已经在行为上被视为人了。那么,这一切动作可以理解为一种爱的行为,更进一步,是前戏一般的意味。然而,美好事物的一个关键是分寸感或者比例,而这首诗的铺垫似乎有点多了。铺垫越多也许对于高潮的期待越高,而这首诗其实有点反高潮。因此,我想第一节直接简化为:它跑来,舔我,温软、微酸。也许这样就够了。之所以保持软软的、暖暖的意思,是因为微酸这个意思值得保留。实际上,舒服的感觉其实足够性感了,而且是高潮之后的。
  第二节用“认真”来衡量一只狗的吻,说明狗的投入(实际上也暗暗指责人却无法达到),接着说其原因(没有栅栏、刺),又说投入的结果(身体的路宽敞明亮,也就是说这个我被打开了,而且幸福)。当然,这首诗并没有在行末用标点符号,因此这里的原因和结果只能是我的阐释,例如可以换一种翻译法。
  这首诗的翻译难度不仅仅来自于语法层面,还来自于语义层面。认真,在汉语中不仅仅是conscientious 用心,而且可能是dutiful 尽心、dedicated 专心、diligent 细心、用功、勤勉、earnest 心诚、take to heart 当真,等。而同样,下面的那个来去无束的“束”字,词源意义具有很强的意象性,指(捆成)一束,但是此刻它可以是拘束、管束、约束等词组的意思。
  这首诗的高潮在于将“与人相恋”带了进来,起到一种可以期待的震惊效果。但是由于“人”是作为一种缺席而被带入这首诗的,因此,这一震惊其实是高潮之后的反高潮效果。注意这里的人是与动物对比,这反而就暗示了人不如兽了,中文最侮辱人的话莫过于“禽兽不如”,如果我们将这个人视为一个男人,那么也可以说男人甚至不如畜牲。
  如此说来,这里的动物性高潮,也就是纯粹的肉体行为,也就被否认了的。舒服这个词的性感在于它确实可以说是高潮之后的美好感受,其愉悦感指向一种渗透式的交融而非一种填充式的满足。正因为对于肉体享受不能自我正当化,因此我的读解反而只能在隐喻意义上理解。这就是说,当我从性的角度来解读这首诗的时候,当我将这首诗阐释为社会中男人与女人之间的性关系时,性实际上应该是一种隐喻。所以,还是要回到这首诗的字面意义本身,亦即,这是一首有关宠物的诗,说的是我们对于小动物的爱的欣喜;这种关系远比人与人的关系更具有安慰性。

About the poet:
Hanxin, pen name of Dong Mei, is a contemporary woman poet who was born in 1968 in Lanzhou, Gansu and now resides in Shandong. She has published Three Simple Hearts (co-authored) and Rambling Slowness.
寒馨,原名董梅,1968年生于甘肃兰州,现居山东;曾出版诗集《三素心》(三人合集)、《漫无目的的慢》。

Sunday, August 3, 2008

Hanxin: Dream

     Dream
            by Hanxin tr. Fan Jinghua
That is a lady in her fifties, who happens to be in court but not a lady-in-waiting.
Perhaps stained with an air of gold,
Yet she runs into my dream out of the blue,
As my dream is breaking its cocoon,
Breaking open a wall and pushing its way
Through the last-year grasses to look for biting stonecrops in the Square of Reality.
This is a new genus of flowers, with long white fingernails
Embedded, like bamboo shoots, in viscous sea-green water,
On whose surface the crawling waves are so light that no one feels or knows.

Of course I feign ignorance, pretending that I haven’t foreseen the impossible equation
Or thousands of solid things with inner emptiness.
The blind is helped finally to a seating space,
Then he stretches his arm from me and says:
"Come and listen to me. I will tell every detail of your future."
I dodge aside, for I have seen more meshes of a net.
As to the explorable fire and the nothingness behind it, may they be used to help
Others to steady themselves! Everyone has their own way
To annihilation, so better let themselves stuff the space between the walls
And block the mouth than speaking everything out
           July 24, 2008


    梦境
           寒馨(1968-)
那是一个五十多岁的宫中女,不是宫女
或许沾些黄金的气息
但不知她为什么跑到我的梦里来
我的梦在破茧
破一面土墙
拨开过去的草丛,到现实的广场上找佛甲花
这是一种新的花,白的长指甲
笋包一样嵌在深绿的浓水里
流轻的、淡的条纹,不被知觉和知晓

我当然要装作不知,装作没提前看到不成立的等式
万千实物里虚弱的肚腹
瞎子被我搀扶着,歪斜着坐稳
他伸出臂膊
“来,我告诉你清晰的未来”
我躲开了,这不如我看到的网孔多
那探到的火和火后面的虚无,去用来扶稳或摇晃别人吧
一个人是怎样湮灭的
还是让他自己去把四壁塞满
把嘴巴塞满,不是什么都要说出去的
               2008-7-24

About the poet:
Hanxin, pen name of Dong Mei, is a contemporary woman poet who was born in 1968 in Lanzhou, Gansu and now resides in Shandong. She has published Three Simple Hearts (co-authored) and Rambling Slowness.
寒馨,原名董梅,1968年生于甘肃兰州,现居山东;曾出版诗集《三素心》(三人合集)、《漫无目的的慢》。

Hanxin: Vanishing

   Vanishing
           by Hanxin tr. Fan Jinghua
That is a stump, a mast anchored in a shoal
A door bescreening a deep alley
A face of mountain, a stone wall on the mountain’s waist, a time-worn relief reflecting on that wall

I look up, unintentionally, and I see it receding into the darkness
Oh, perhaps it’s me
Who is receding, half step by half step
Or it’s Time that keeps awake and nibbling at everything
          July 23, 2008

    消逝
        寒馨 (1968-)
那是一只木桩,一根锚在浅滩的桅杆
一道藏着深巷的门
一面山、山腰的石壁、石壁上磨得发光的浮雕

无意间抬头,见它在黑暗中缓缓后退
哦,也许是我
是我一点点地远离
或者是时间,醒着的时间悄悄销蚀一切
             2008-7-23

About the poet:
Hanxin (literally means Cold Fragrance), penname of Dong Mei (董梅 with Mei means plum flower while her surname Dong is homophonic with 冬 winter), a contemporary female poet born in 1968 in Lanzhou, Gansu Province, now resides in Shandong Province in China. She has published Three Simple Hearts (co-authored) and Rambling Slowness.

寒馨,原名董梅,1968年生于甘肃兰州,现居山东;曾出版诗集《三素心》(三人合集)、《漫无目的的慢》。

Hanxin: There is a wind

  "There is a wind…"
            By Hanxin (1968-) tr. Fan Jinghua
There is a wind which does not come here
But stays where it is to be seen. It grows sunflowers, biting stonecrops and soft hair.
It uses a comb of reason to card tousles of night and jam-ups along waterways.

It sends to the stars eagle eyes and firework smiles,
It irrigates paddy-fields with its milky juice as they are cracked like a tortoise-shell,
And it hides the contusions caused by the windlass against the well.

She knows that she cannot keep herself closed any longer
Or hide her luxuriance, for she looks too like a happy baby with attached white wings.
What she needs is a little more time, so she will wake up, little by little.
             July 15, 2008


   有一种风
          寒馨(1968-)
有一种风,它不来
却在她看得见的地方,种太阳花、种佛甲草、种柔软的毛发
用理智的梳子,梳开夜晚的杂乱、沿河的阻塞

把鹰的眼睛、礼花的笑容送给星星
用身体里的奶浆,濡湿她身边龟裂的田垅
并藏好辘轳和井碰撞后的淤伤

她知道,她不能不开放了
不能不花木扶疏,像个扎着白羽毛翅膀的快乐婴孩
只是需要时间,需要一点点地醒来
               2008-7-15

About the poet:
  Hanxin, aka Dong Mei 董梅, is a contemporary poet who was born in 1968 in Lanzhou, Gansu and now resides in Shandong.

Tuesday, May 13, 2008

Hanxin: I Take These Wild Open Flowers

  我把这些开着的花
          寒馨 (1968-)
我把这些开着的花
看成是眼

别这么看着我
这有些暧昧
好像我真的和你有过什么关系
       2008年4月6日


  I Take These Wide Open Flowers
             Hanxin (1968-) tr. Fan Jinghua
I take these wide open flowers
As eyes

Don’t stare at me like these
It appears a little suggestive
As if I had really been involved with you before
        April 6, 2008

译按:没错,这个“我”实际上比花儿要暧昧多了,而且还将自己的暧昧投射给花儿,这关系恐怕还不仅仅是今生的呢。这首诗写得俏皮随意,反而显露出一个女性特有的东西。



Contemporary Chinese poet Hanxin 寒馨 (in Chinese this name means Cold Fragrance), her real name being 董梅 Dong Mei.

Monday, May 12, 2008

Hanxin: Then

   之后
      寒馨 (1968-)
武王车三百乘,兵卒五万,战牡野
商纣死,遂花开百年,不败。
凡貌象声色,皆活,皆有了生气
手脚可以自主使用了,像左右方向的

遍地蚂蚁。绣河图,造两仪
乾坤婉转纠缠,无期限、无限远,织黄色的土布
给泥人呼吸、胎记,一根圆柱型的骨骼
坚硬而温存。教他们养畜,种百草,医治八百朝疾病

所以你一直活到现在,所以你隔着窗子
听田野的潮声,镜花无缘,格列佛失去想象
九百六十万的麦子,有那么巨大的隐忍和吸收
            2007年5月18日



    Then
          Hanxin (1968-)  tr. Fan Jinghua
Warrior King deployed 300 chariots and 50 thousand soldiers
to the Phallus Wilderness, whereupon Tyrant Zhou was
killed in the battlefield, and then flowers there
were in full bloom for a hundred years.
All that had appearances and made sounds were alive
and full of vital energy, their limbs dexterous like the legs of ants

that hold directions. Water systems were embroidered on maps,
two poles were located at a tellurion, male heaven and female earth
coupled and entwined, with neither temporal limit nor spatial boundary.
Yellowish cotton cloth was woven, breath was blown into clay figures
stamped with birthmarks, and a column-like spine, hard and warm, was installed.
People were then taught to domesticate animals, grow herbs, and treat chronic illnesses.

Therefore you live till today, and therefore you can hide behind the windowpane
hear the tidal sounds rolling over fields and see flowers blooming vainly in mirrors.
Gulliver’s imagination is sterile before 96 hundred thousand heads of wheat
which contain an immensity of reservation and assimilation.
                 May 18, 2007


译按:诗人喜欢武王的暴力或许是因为他的暴力在她看来是一种construction创造而非destruction破坏,在大地上的创造,而大地在此自然是母性的,最终落入“隐忍与吸收”,这其中的男女意识形态很传统或正统,但不妨碍其浑厚大气。九百六十万这个数字是中国的领土吧,麦子已经成为当代诗歌的一个新的象征传统中的最典型意象了。



                Hanxin 寒馨 Chinese poet

Hanxin: Walk On

   
      寒馨 (1968-)
向前走,是土墙下没有身份的花,是
树含蓄的阴影,是鸟带来的小径

是两三声懒散的犬吠、淡淡的粪肥味和油菜荚
积攒的气力与海。棕榈树有火烧的痕迹
它的高度稀薄,和你的愿望一样
长长地,四下散着

你拿着一本书,怎么走
都没有走出小镇的这个中午,并且听任
两只相伴起舞的蝴蝶,运走了天空
        2007年5月6日



   Walk On
        Hanxin (1968-) tr. Fan Jinghua
Walk on, and there will be a flower of no identity under the clay wall,
A reticent shadow of a tree, a tiny trail of a bird

There will come a few lazy barks, the faint smell of manure and the stored-up
energy and sea of canola pods. A palm tree will show burns of fire,
and its height is thin air, like your wish,
long and elongated, to every direction.

You, with a book in hand, walk on and on
but cannot walk out of this noon of the town. You can do nothing
but watch two butterflies carrying away the sky in their matching dance.
         May 6, 2007

About the poet:
  Hanxin, aka Dong Mei 董梅, is a contemporary poet who was born in Lanzhou, Gansu and now resides in Shandong.