我的诗歌（之五十二）
作者：马累
翻译：朱峰
当遗忘像镜子，反射出
万物曲折的原貌。
当一条河，像鞭子
狠狠甩在大地的心脏之上。
我听见蟋蟀呼吸着世界，
我看见乌鸦衔走整个秋天。
当意象像一堵墙，
而词语，倾向于蜗牛的国度。
当我开始理解那些
就义者的初衷，
我也开始理解黄河留在
天空中的背影。
那么，借用形式主义者最擅长的
隐喻：我不过想借助清晨
露珠上些许的微光，
来参悟这个时代的意义。
它在于：无条件的救赎。
My Poetry No.52
When oblivion is like a mirror reflecting
the original tortuous forms of everything.
When a river, whips heavily at
the heart of the earth.
I hear a cricket breathing the world in and out
and see a raven picking up the whole autumn.
When images are like a wall,
and words, tend to be the kingdom of snails.
When I started to understand those
sacrificed and their original faith,
also I started to comprehend the Yellow River
and its shadow left in the sky.
Now, borrowing a metaphor that formalists are best at
using: I am barely utilising the dim light on
the morning dew, trying to apprehend
the purpose of the time we live in.
and the purpose is: unconditional redemption.
陈述
我们绝望，并非
生无可恋，而在于拒绝
和解。
当巨大的北方
向天空坦陈伟大
而骄傲的寂静。
我说的有所为
单指流水。它将一个
秋的国度秘密抚平。
我说的有所不为
还是流水。它将灵魂
一分为二：
一半交给短暂、偶然的生活，
一半担负起永恒、必然的
真理。
Narrative
We feel hopeless, but it doesn’t mean
we have nothing to love in this life, but for refusal to
reconciliation
When the enormous northern land
declares to the sky the greatness
and proud of its silence.
When I said doing
I merely referred to living water, which heals
the secrets of a state fully filled its Autumn season.
When I said non-doing sometimes
I meant living water still. It splits the soul
into two:
half of it for this temporary and uncertain life,
another half carries the eternal and definite
truth.
黄昏
黄昏，我从乌鸦的爆破音上
开始爱世界，从河面漩涡的
反光中开始爱黄河。
我感到体内堆满了词语，
并一再地向灵魂施压。
类似于空气中稀薄的土腥味
和深夜不请自来的失眠。
满树的叶子在晚风中
相互重叠。当它们重新散开
的时候，就像是审判庭上
法官抛下来的判决书。
作为诗歌的被告，我并未
诚惶诚恐。因为我已
熟知那些内容：
爱，并不等同于讲和，
恨，也不等同于自由。
At Dusk
At dusk, from the plosive of a raven
I started to love the world, from within the reflection of
the swirling on water surface, I started to love the Yellow River.
I felt like I was pregnant with words,
pressing my heart and soul harder and harder.
like the thin but earthy smells in the air
and the uninvited sleeplessness at midnight.
Leaves on the tree were overlapping
in the evening breeze. When they separated again,
as if at court, a sentence letter was thrown down by the judge.
As a man being sued by poems, I never really feared.
For I knew very well what was written there:
Love, doesn’t mean peacemaking,
Hatred, doesn’t mean freedom either.
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发表于 2018-7-28 14:53
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发表于 2018-8-13 09:03
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