自画像 羞涩的希望 假如 无弦琴 读《诗经》 沉默
看眼睛知道你失眠， 从失眠测定你构想的诗篇。 修眉是不甘收敛的翅膀棗 有甚么样的痛苦将它灼伤？ 但铁颚依旧紧咬着决心， 而决心又始终紧咬着敌人。 Self-portrait From your eyes, I know that you suffer from insomnia. From your insomnia I surmise that you're composing your poems. Your well-pruned eyebrows suggest unyielding wings——What sort of pain has scorched them? But the iron jaws still bite hard with the resolve, And the resolve itself bites hard the enemy.
羞涩的希望 像苔原上胆小的鹿群， 竟因爱抚而惊走逃遁， 远了，更远了，终於不见踪影。 只有一片隐痛，宛如暴君 蹂躏着我的心； 莫要拷问我，我已经招认： 怯懦，这便是全部的过错和不幸。 Bashful Hope Bashful hope, Like a herd of timid deer, Is frightened for the caressing and flees Far away, farther away, till it vanishes. There is left only some pain, Like a tyrant, Trampling on my heart. Don't torture me, I have already confessed: Cowardice brings all the faults and misfortune.
假如小鸟应该飞来， 偏偏却不见它飞来， 树林为甚么还耐心等待？ 北山有罗，也许已经张开？① 假如我的家乡天色阴暗， 而且射来了砸人的雨点， 我那雨中奔跑的乡亲哟， 是否你在默想未来的晴天？ 假如雄鸡渴望歌唱， 却又偏偏噤声不响， 胆怯的孩子就难免惊慌： 妈妈，是不是来了黄鼠狼？ 假如春天也学会了欺骗， 那么大地就会说：这不是真的春天； 锄头将生锈， 拓荒者将带走收获的预言。 1979年5月21日 绝早，昆明城犹在夜色朦胧中。 [註]：①古谣：“南山有鸟，北山张罗；鸟自高飞，罗当奈何？” Suppose Suppose birds should fly in now, But they are not yet seen. Why is the wood so patiently keen? In the North Mountain there is a net. Maybe it is stretched, isn't it yet?①. Suppose it is already gloomy in my hometown, And there comes rain drops shooting at people. My country folk that are running in the rain Are still thinking about the sunny days in the future? Suppose the rooster is itching to crow, But it keeps silent. The timid children would go panic. Mom, has the weasel come? Suppose Spring has learn to cheat, Then the earth would say: this is not spring. The hoe would go rusty, The exploiter would carry away his prophesy of harvest. At dawn of May 21, 1979 When Kunming was still covered by the night curtain. Note: ancient ballad:There is a bird in South Mountainand inthe North Mountain a net is stretched open. The bird flies high and the net remains idle.
陶渊明不解音律，而蓄无弦琴一张。每酒适，辄抚弄以寄意。 ——萧统：《陶渊明传》 然而，我不会喝酒， 连一张做样子的琴也无有。 无有桐木， 无有弓藤， 无有马尾， 无有象牙一般熟透了的拨子， 无有琥珀一般凝固着的松油。 不会，不会，不会， 无有，无有，无有。 尽管我略懂一点点音律， 并且积蓄了不止一点点忧愁。 我不是陶渊明啊， 不曾在门前栽下五株柳。 我不是陶渊明啊， 也误了抚琴的时候。 Stringless Harp Tao Yuanming didn't know music,but he kept a stringless harp.When he was a bit high with liquor,he played the harp to express his feelings. ——Xiao Tong: On Tao Yuanming However, I never drink liquor. And I do not even have a thing that can be called a harp. I have neither tung wood, Nor rattan bow, Neither horse tail, Nor ivory-like and weathered plectrum Nor amber-like rosin. No, no, no, Never, never, never. Though I know a little about music, I have stored up not a little of worry. I am no Tao Yuanming. And I didn't plant five willows in front of the gate. I am no Tao Yuanming, So I miss the chance of playing the harp.
揭起书笺泛黄的《诗经》， 如开笼放鸟，灌两耳关关啼鸣。 敢情是那早已绝种的不禽？ 多谢您，夫子！当年就细心录了音。 超越巫祝咒语，庙堂钟磬， 驱散原始恐惧，官府规箴。 好惭愧！我竟会这般愚蠢， 既学过画符，又帮过扶榇。 於今我来到了江淮之滨， 皓首低垂，与白头芦花相顾伤神。 无边的萧萧正是泽国之呻吟， 有谁再来替我注释忠贞，注释爱情？ Reading the Book of Songs Leafing the yellowish Book of Songs I seem to be letting out the bird from the cage, my ears assailed with bird's chirping. Is it the bird that has long been extinguished? Thank you, Master Confucius, for your having this recorded at the time. This has surpassed the sorcerer's imprecation, and the bell of the temple, Dispersing the original fear and breaking away from the official regulations. Much ashamed, I would be so idiotic, Having learned drawing magic figures and helped carrying the casket. Now I am on the bank of the Yangtze and the Hui River. With my white head bent, I am grieving together with the white reed catkins. The boundless bleakness is the groan of the margin country. Who is here to annotate my loyalty, and my love?
沉默 眼沉默 嘴沉默 闪电、流云、羽翅 疾行中都各自紧衔一枚沉默 山沉默 水沉默 煙与火也以痉挛的食指架住双唇 沉默 天崩地裂的 震耳欲聋的 沉默 沉默是金 Clinging to the Evening Pavilion Silence With the eye, With the mouth. Lightning, flowing clouds, and feather wings In their swift transit, they hold something called silence. Silence with the mountains, Silence with the water. Fumes and fire hold their lips with spastic forefingers To keep silent. Towards the cracking of the sky And that of the earth that deafen the ears Silence is maintained. Silence is Gold.
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