There was a clearing in the wood
like a dais in the silence
where we were watched by trees
and bug's eyes hard and glazed
Masses of wild flowers, yellow and purple
reclaimed the entrance path
Our mundane world's attire
became superfluous
I touched your waist
your spot of hidden pain
In so magical a place, lovemaking too
became redundant
as natural as an undulating stream
heaving and panting
Then a dragonfly came, perched
on that glowing tip of your limb, and
sucked the saline, with solemnity all around
Two mating bugs lay quiet and still
after their climax
only the flowers began to wave
the misty sleepiness gently
Autumn, I will be tired
sky covers meadow as plastic cloth
spring water rest against rock
dust scattering among grasses
wheat bundles in field
still meditate
containing strong sunlight
I will arrive at there
A bank, is the place we will rest
Reed broken
Stick to sunset
Autumn, I will be tired
Horse eyes will become yellow too
It endure
Stand in hot grasses
many things will be remembered at this time
remember of that spring wind
that summer rain
bat-flower shadow always fly
remember of a heavy snow will come soon
cover this wheat field
crows will skate after wheel trace
leave floral motif
at that time, we will own a small house
watching snow flakes fall lightly
like frozen wheat fringe, wordless
such time lasts as if thousand years
along breath will find lips
black bushes faraway
save our hearts
very big
like berry
like dream, begin at there
like dream, begin at there
no more waiting
no more fatigue
I will light up stove fire
Keep it burning
For future generations
father
father is old
the lamp still burning morning
nobody know when father was old
while I sat in the corner
eating a cake
digging plum in it with fingers
I didn?ˉt look at him
I knew nothing
Father is old
Always turn the radio aloud
Chopsticks drips when having a meal
Trees in gust
Also dripping water
Dripping water, branches shining
clouds over hill, draw away a forest
I don?ˉt consider things later
Father returned
Swept up scared branches
With hands as chrysanthemum
I didn?ˉt consider things later
I still sat in corner
Eating that piece of cake
As if never finished it
That day, as if never finished
Outside, the fence he set up is still new
Happiness of autumn
every summer, you will hide in crowd
your ebb tide,leaving me there
like a single stone
I know, I will sit on the long-bench at autumn
my smile, still holds nothing
but strangely feels happiness
in small paper house
there will be some words,as pebbles
that float up from clear water
wind swells slowly too
until it becomes a whirlpool
in the distance
one man, like a child
suddenly thinks of summer vacation,
the homework which he does not finish
Thus in a corner, he find me
(translate by Deborah and the author)
letters
Often I need to write letters
when I feel sorrow
I wrote down a long, long letter
but as the sadness dropped on paper
those words restored me
curiously
thus I hid the letter
and wrote down another
very short, very brief
It said, "I am well."
Often I would miss you
at such moments,I wrote nothing
at such moments
it would snow here
a heavy, heavy snow
with leaves, frozen in the sky
when snow stopped falling
I returned from the snow field
and find your letters
warmly berthed there
(by Deborah and the author)
Limit of individual
Sunset. Down the long streets
On a bench, I turn my head,
The summer stars uncounted.
There is not enough time to give them names
Before their quiet burned out.
The streets with roofs all swollen
are burned out by the low sun.
Its flaming secrets
Touch no one here
With sleep and death.
But when I turned again
To look down that brilliant street,
I saw your true, secret face
Among the leaves, birds, smog
That eternity varies endlessly.
But I am bound by fleshly habits.
In beds, drinks,
In silent books and small excitements
I hide my laziness----
They are not to be seen again by mortals,
Those jewels the gods guard with forgetfulness:
A poem among porch, eternal trees, endless stream.
love poem
love you ,separate by a desk
separate by many years
fresh dream ,showing a low-tide sea
wood piece spring up under fingers one after another
real sea stand far away ,like a flat wood
love you, separate by many layers of cloth
separate by sole sea
the roof higher than our heads
the moon higher than roof
I love you from every angle
separate by many uncleaned ash
we both belong to this door
can be pushed out to rigor winter at anytime
in house ,there is only night
we are destined to leave
disappear at one moment
love you , separate by skin
separate by night
separate by a gust of wind ,gaze you
I stand in the distance
separate by several women?s face
love you ,then lose you
March
Light yellow faced lover
she waits, fairing through
the whole winter
reading my first, second
and third shadows
like light yellow faced pupil
she walks out of my poems
with fresh cut hair
happily
black bud stitches on branches
we will walk along the flowing edge of winter
whispering between winter and spring
such days she is glad to see
my pondering face,
glad to see me
silently we pass those places
where our first love sprouts
these are very common days
I used to close the door behind me
No more, now it is open -
My lover always besides me
reading my poems loudly,
till the forest trudges
through the remains of ashen earth
and spring's roaring sounds
submerge us.
(by Deborah and the author)
Mother
The days expiated by you now expiating me
mother, the person left wheat and volcano
fate to return with stained body, plunge into water
be chased pheasant fate to plunge into snow
days we can company each other are countable
that winter , I cross field furrow to watch movie
on return, suddenly find time and space is so vast
when everything is over, you maybe other's mother
can?ˉt recognize my hands reach out to you in snow
I hurry to home, kindly, excited, worried
As if have been leaving home for five years
in childhood, when you go to neighbor's house
I search you , worn out after game
First shout out ,I am hunger
before my feet tread into the door
You always flush, reprove me
You think I am greedy of neighbor?ˉs food
You don?ˉt know I only want you return home
until now, you still laugh me for this
you so easily deny my love
I smile along with you, feel relaxed and confused
Nowadays so easily send away
I write winter poems, gnawing frozen bun
Full of sweet taste in mouth
These are days faraway you
It will take long time to find you
Shout out, mom I am hunger
simplicity
I can't understand you, you are too simple
Your words clear, like blue sky among branches
For a moment, I take it as a cloth
Or other simple thing
You become more clearer, still smiling
As if water splashing on tree top
And I, like a man long for travel
Before him, not the river with turbulent waves
But signals of ego interweaving together
The end of year
One thousand year past,only cry and color
Tip dust back to bag again
Heart is only a bag,dark cornor
Cold and silent,land is arising
For the dead.White sun teinkle
But night arrive earlier
In clear air,star bright extremely
Cars pass deep sleeping house one after one
Pass light vibrate to foundation
Also pass to dream though withered telephone line
In winter,you are the last vanish man
And present,is only a dirty bag
Like shadow pulled behing body.
the old man weeping near water
an old man is weeping near water
he see branches appearing from the water
he ever revolved around that fruit
he ever set aside that branch
now, his skin fall off
like pale apple petals
he is not Adam, but we all come from him
the truth I recognized on midnight
I can't become more younger
Knowledge can't help me cope with survival
More better. on my folded pages
Full of handwritings no one can recognize
Forest presses upon my roof
When the wind scatters silvery moonlight
Why am I not nude, take off all clothes
The truth I recognized on midnight
At morning, like ripples stroke by pebbles
Spread to sand bank which no one lives
I crouch under the eaves,
drink up my cup of life
then, Throw it far away
these winter mornings
these winter mornings, mother still get up early
put on clothes fumblingly
open door, open faucet in dim light
water flows in darkness, mother smoke silently
wet leaves scent in air
make me return to childhood
mother pick fallen leaves with crate
pile them beside the wall
I use a bamboo needle
Poke leaves, playing
forest always dark
faraway, can hear mother is churning leaves
at evening, we sit in kitchen without lamp
listen the rustling of dry leaves
sway the rocking chair
father will come in soon
brush the leaves off his boots
these winter morning, mother quench cigarette
bucket is filled with
she drink water mouthful
then keeping watch the shining toys
full of a crate
waiting for me and my son awake
we should love each other
look the streets of summer
look so many vanishing people
my dear, you will turn to me
before the window
forgive our all past
now,we can finally open the window
on a season without you
let the red light from woods
reflecting on our faces
but I haven't mood
to browse the world on newspaper
autumn cleaned human beings
scattered on the streets
I don't know who will stand naked
at the door
leaves piled up to knees
tidy and pain
Winter light drop on dry willow
Winter light drop on dry willow
Their leaves become yellow latestly,still in cold wing
Shiver,whether can I use some facts
Exchange empty feeling in heart,for example
Snow ground gives off stream and some odd toys.
Time pile on windowsill
Neither fallen leaves,nor snow
Even nor dust,but as hard as
Ice,interior is full of dark
When will they left,became a group of
Playing sparrows spray fully on thick grass
What will I want to say?feeling of time drop
As if one man suddenly stop in wind
With great effort remember what he think just now
Silence and cold full of room's crack
Not moonlight,Dear
Now,above is what I can tell you
Look,willow is still shaving
Room is shrinking,this is winter
I really want to beat somebody
Little Hui
Hui, I thought of you this morning while taking a stroll. I thought of your broken soul being cast everywhere around me, and I felt that I ought to collect it, and carry it in my heart back to my sweet home.
Remember, when we were little, I used to wait for you on the playground at the back of our school, purposely asking you to wrestle with me. If we tied in our match, you would blush. Back then we all loved learning Kung-Fu. Once I tried to jump over a wall and bruised my knee, it hurt so much that I could hardly speak.
Remember, your cousin Kai, he was one of us. (He is now working for the Electricity Bureau as a secretary. He used to write poems, but rarely dose it now.) Among three of us, he was the arbitrator. I loved him dearly as an elder brother. Somehow he never managed to surpass me in things we did.
He has slit eyes, but yours were big and bright. You looked more like a girl back then, charming and loved giggling. But soon we grew up. For a while you completely vanished from my life. I devoted all my time to my studies.
When I met you in Xi'an by chance, we were no longer as close as we had been. However, you did ask me to write a few love letters on your behalf. Later you were assigned to Hu Lan, working for an Electricity Plant which was built on a plain. Houses over there glittered under the sun. Every time I went back home to Ke Shan, I would notice them from afar. These days, smokes still come out of those big-bellied chimneys. They have survived far much longer than the rest of us!
Had you ever climbed chimneys when you were little? Sparrows on tope of those chimneys were all black. I climbed TV tower once, there was a lot of wind up there, and it made the tower sway. And I heard you calling from beneath: "The teacher is coming!" I closed my eyes. The teacher didn't pay much attention to me; he told you off instead and said that you were old enough to know things better. It must be our second year in junior high. I can't quite recall.
Three years ago, I felt sad and low, so I went back home to see my mother. I met Kai. I asked him where you were. He stared at me for a while, and then he said in a clam voice: "Hui has been dead for years." I asked calmly: "Really? How did he die?" Kai told me that you died from osteoporosis and left a wife and a little boy behind.
Time went by. I started to concentrate on my living and almost forgot you completely.
Then one morning, you resurrected inside me.
Hui, there are many things I want to show you. I want to show you how a dredger works, you can hear its hollow sound coming from under the water. I want to show you how an excavator's funny elbow goes in and out, it looks like a pelican too old to hold everything in its porch.
I am now getting used to life in this city. Everyday I take a stroll along the river. Sometimes I would say: "Hui, let's call it a day. West of that highway bridge is your territory," But today I want to walk a bit further, I want to show how life has changed us all. Looking across the river, smokes still come out of those grey chimneys in that electricity plant you once worked. Our living is fragile.
Hui, sometimes I am scared of you, you are not coming to destroy me, are you? You have made those familiar things new to me again, and things have taken on new meanings and are no longer what they seem to be. Now I understand that all this summer, I have been doing these walkabouts for you, for you only.
On this clear autumn day, I humbly bent over to pick up a piece of fallen paper with a footprint on. And then I noticed that on its back, there was another blurred footprint. (Was it yours?)
Long and narrow leaves keep on falling and get mixed and buried in the wet sand dune. (There is a newly built watchtower. How about going over there for a drink? You ask. The steel gate leading to the bridge is locked. But lights are on inside the tower. Look, that silver spire!)
Can you see? I elbow the air around me slightly trying to encourage you talking.
I don't want to talk about childhood. Childhood is like an annoying playmate. We left him behind, but he grew up on its own, until he became a complete stranger. Maybe we will meet him again in our old age and will be able to reconcile.
Hui, it is too early to ask me to give up everything. Please forgive me! I have grown fond of those vulgar things in life: money, words printed in paper, kids and new friends. I love them more than I love you. You are not going be mad at me, are you?
How did you enter me? How hard do I have to try to keep my mouth shut, so I won't repeat what you have said, so I won't wander off the main road and slip into the river?
You are wrestling with me. But you have grown younger and smaller, you've stopped to grow around the age of 26. (You were a year older than me.)
But I want you to grow even smaller, I want you to grow to a size of a pebble, so I can hold you in my hand, or throw you into the raging water.
I want to forget you. I want to live on.
Hui, let's call it a day.
I want to go back now, back to my dark but warm home.
One day I will walk with you to the end of the world without turning back.
Hui, see you, see you tomorrow.
be such a space, like a stage
we stand on it, audience is the silence tree
and insect’s glazing and hard eyes
(many) yellow and purple wild-flowers flood road we came
dear, all our underworld cloth
is unwanted at present. My hand plunge in you waist
my hands catch constrictive tongue in your body
in seldom reached forest, love is unwanted too
it is only swings of an action.
Wave is the gasp of brook, high or low suddenly
A dragonfly fly, tarry on your flush branch
Suck salt. Sky and ground solemn around.
Two climaxed insects in stillness
Until wildflower begin to noise, ground begin to rotate
ПРОСТРАНСТВО В ЛЕСУ
Чтобы пространство стало сценой,
мы вступаем в него, на нас глядят молчащее дерево
и жесткие глаза глянцевых насекомых.
Желтые и пурпурные цветы устилают дорогу, по которой мы пришли.
Милая, наша преступная одежда
теперь не нужна. Моя ладонь тонет в твоей талии,
мои руки трогают тайную боль в твоем теле.
В таком глухом лесу любовь тоже лишняя.
Это - только ритм.
Волна – удушье ручья, высока или низка внезапно.
Летит стрекоза, медлит на твоем мокром рукаве,
сосет соль. Небо и земля торжественны вокруг.
Два насекомых в кульминации тишины.
Прежде чем дикий цветок зазвучит, земля начинает вращаться.
Limit of individual
Those sunset street, I turn my head
Summer bench uncounted star
I have no enough time to name them,
Before their quiet
Burned finished. street with expanded roof,
Ground burned by sunset
No one touched, flaming secret:
Sleep and dead
Again,
When I turn my head to that brilliant street
I saw your secret true face
In leaves, flying-bird, smog
That eternal vary endlessly
But I limit in flesh’s gloomy habit
On bed, cup,
In silence book and fluster
Find a secret excuse for lazy
The God don’t allow any mortal see those again,
Those jewel forget by safeguard,
Eternal tree in porch, a poem in stream
And smog rising in silence
Love’s prudent crazy
ПРЕДЕЛ ИНДИВИДУАЛЬНОГО
Эта закатная улица, я поворачиваю голову.
Летняя выставка бесчисленных звезд.
У меня нет времени назвать их
Перед их спокойствием.
Горение завершилось. Улица с растянутой крышей,
Земля сожжена закатом.
Никто не дотронулся, пылающая тайна:
Спи и умри
Снова.
Когда я поворачиваю голову к той блестящей улице,
Я вижу твое тайное истинное лицо
В листьях, летящей птице, дыме.
Эта вечно меняющаяся бесконечность.
Но я ограничиваю мрачную привычку плоти
На ложе, в чаше,
В тишине книги и в суматохе
Найти тайное оправдание для ленивого.
Бог не позволит никому из смертных увидеть это снова.
Тот драгоценный камень забыт охраной.
Вечное дерево на веранде, стихи в потоке
И дым, поднимающийся в тишине.
Безумное благоразумие любви
****************
One thousand year past, only cry and color
Tip(dump) dust back to bag again
Heart is only a bag, dark corner
Cold and silence, land is arising
For the dead. White sun twinkle
But night arrive earlier
In clear air, star bright extremely
Cars pass deep sleep house one after one
Pass light vibrate to foundation
Also pass to dream though weathered telephone line
In winter, you are the last vanish man
And present, is only a dirty bag
Like shadow (was) pulled behind body.
Тысяча лет прошло, только плач и цвет,
Свалка праха снова вернулась в мешок,
Сердце – всего лишь мешок, темный угол,
Молчанье и холод, земля поднимается
Для мертвых. И белое солнце сверкает,
Но ночь наступает раньше.
В ясном воздухе слишком ярка звезда.
Машины одна за другой едут сквозь сон домов
и легкую дрожь фасадов
к снам ветреной телефонной линии.
Зимой ты последний исчезающий человек,
А настоящее – только грязный мешок,
Как тень, тянущаяся за телом.
************
Winter light drop on dry willow
Their leaves become yellow lately, still in cold wind
Shiver, whether can I use some facts
Exchange empty feeling in heart, for example
Snow ground gives off stream and some odd toys.
Time pile on windowsill
Neither fallen leaves, nor snow
Even nor dust, but as hard as
Ice, interior is full of dark
When will they left, became a group of
Play sparrow spray fully on thick grass
What will I want to say? Feeling of time drop
As if one man suddenly stop in wind
With great effort remember what (I) think just now
Silence and cold full of room s crack
Not moonlight, dear
Now, these (above) is what I can tell you
Look, willow is still shaving
Room is shrinking, this is winter
I really want to beat somebody
Зимний свет стекает на сухую иву,
Чьи листья пожелтеют позже, а пока в холодном ветре
Дрожат, могу ли я использовать некоторые факты,
Заменить пустое чувство в сердце, например.
Снежная земля выпускает ручей и несколько лишних игрушек.
Груда времени на подоконнике.
Никто не заставит листья упасть – ни снег,
Ни пыль, но так же, как тяжел
Лед, внутри – полно темноты.
Когда они уйдут, станет ли стайка воробьев
Барахтаться в густой траве?
Что я захочу сказать? Уходит чувство времени,
Как будто человек внезапно остановился в ветре,
С большим усилием припоминая, о чем он только что думал.
Молчанием и холодом наполнена комнатная трещина.
Нет лунного света, милая,
Теперь все, что я могу сказать тебе:
Смотри, ива еще подстригается
Комната сжимается, это зима,
Я действительно хочу ударить кого-то.
МЕЖДУ ПАУЗОЙ И ПАУЗОЙ: ОПУСКАЕТСЯ ТЕНЬ
Между паузой и паузой: опускается тень,
Часы щебечут во сне, расходятся лучи.
Бесформенная вещь, на далеком горизонте
Остановившаяся, не находя ничего. Некоторые разбросанные вещи собираются вместе.
Пусть все распределится равномерно, по складывающемуся мнению.
Опускается тень, напряженные ноги и потерянные ноги.
Скрытое разнообразие и магия между открытым и закрытым.
Кружащее голову знание как вращающееся яблоко.
Как ужасно: между паузой и паузой
Птица начинает щебетать в тумане, словно
Разорванная струна, преследующая это яблоко
В прямом и обратном вращении. Между пауз
Продленный слог отменяет имя,
Долгий дождь не падает на землю все время
И становится фантастическим туманом.
Как жить по-человечески, запинаться о тень,
Прятать печаль между невыговоренными вещами,
Отдельно от индивидуального, коллективного. Становиться другим,
Собирать души и место в сенном аду.
Между паузой и паузой: тень опускается
На крест, с холодной верхушки, птичьи крылья
Сушат землю, проволока ловит сетью плоские крыши,
Зеленое копье, забор, медленно приходящее в порядок чье-то лицо.
ТАЙНОЕ СЛОВО
Ты находишь тайное слово, тень моря, колонну,
Спящую собаку в тени, гнилые губы воздуха.
Ты находишь исчезнувший дождь в роге овцы, испаряющуюся фразу.
Там дерево, река, потерянный пройденный замок,
Грязное оружие в спальне, шершавые черные чашки.
Ты находишь, что человека нет никогда, его мерцающий взгляд
С края тьмы, как голубая кисточка.
Эксперимент? судьбы, из ее выражения
Предположи, сколько судьбы придет к истине
Но это надежно, взять тебя в тайную область:
Веки розы, или автобус
Через высыхающую площадь, выделенная
Стеклянная пыль, горящая перчатка, гаечный ключ и клюв.
Ты будешь прогуливаться одиноко долгое время,
ожидая водомерок, скользящих по воде.
Возьми восстановленную кровь,
Скрытое слово, как адамово яблоко, поднимающееся из моря.
Храни звук и цвет для полудня. Все в масштабе времени.
Высокой башней, деревом, идущим человеком отмечен на горизонте
Незаконченный сад, оберегаемый штормом,
Принужденный неправдой соединения, найденный чьим-то телом
Прозрачная клетка, отмененный статус, власть и прибыль,
едва совершают повторный обмен, сгущаются на обычных веках.
ПОД СОСНОЙ
Одинокая сосна. Каменная тропа. Влажная трава.
Сосновые иглы и капли на деревянной табуретке,
Только что вытертой, ветер сдул воду
С верхушки дерева. Лежи на скамье,
Встречайся, обсуждай серьезные вопросы,
Конечно, любовь тоже, этот «масштаб природы человека».
Солнечный свет скользит по сгорбленным птицам,
Сладко и звонко падая в соты. О чем еще мне заботиться?
Что «вчерашние сожаления и завтрашние страхи»
Как рукоятка топора, гниют и возвращаются в прах среди цветов?
Тень на веках,
Далекая тропа, горный путь.
Тот, кто ударил камешек, ударил и игрока.
Сосновый ветер несет слабый запах канифоли, спи, пожалуйста,
Когда проснешься, жизнь улетит, словно сон.