At Turns《》/北林

北林

At turns 《》/ 北林

I

At turns, foams. The river
is like a dog’s waggling tail,
the fluffy hair flaps In it’s dream.

But there are heavy ones: a swarmed
blackness raising from the bottom, without flame the whirling smoke in the water
stirs. Something with no face
but numerous glinting eyes
that even the constant current
of years failed to wash away. The dregs
of what is to come; the scum of dead
fighting its way back. As the safari’s driver carefully goes around the elephant’s dung, fearing the indigestible thrones. Here
the river makes U turns.

II

Now, the shadow is becoming murkier:
a page laid open in the dusk
full of words. They were articulated
by supple tongue and sharp teeth, a blurry vision of vulture on the dining table
that hunts smells. Empty chairs.

The reader had been shown out of home
to the place where the writer lives.
Nothing, except two black holes;
except he trips and plunges
into a sitting skeleton
——bang——
a phosphoric starry sky in the cave.

III

Today’s the seventh day, not Sunday:
the garbage truck beside garbage can; the garbage man opens the device that prevents bears from eating our waste.
Bears are starved all the time
for if they don’t eat they’ll be starved. For
to stay in good shape we always take
a good walk after we are stuffed.

Farther north, the snowy mountain
tied up by whiteness. It’s both under
the clouds and the lake.
I can see them both from the hotel’s balcony.
I have been to every corner of this side:
brochures, map, signs, bottles of water, hiking boots…
Overhead, the snow-slope path, a stroke of pen’s print on the next page beneath:
the other side’s asking for certain weight
of press. Never stop
the mountain keeps growing
as slow as a flimsy fingernail. It is shining.

北林

谢通过

方先锋

附上中文呗

北林

嗯，有时间我翻译一下