Speed The Beer Bottle-top The Naming of a Crow Mouse Rivers
the people planting potatoes are infected by dawn infected by the sun as it rises quickly they work the world is quick at this time quickly the dew dries quickly the field voles scamper off at times like this you need to be quick labourers are quick to remove their jackets to bare their arms a whole day's work depends on a good morning start this is how primary school teachers educate their students they react with speed the invisible world in their classrooms the morning’s Chinese lesson is understood on paper as a few set phrases left over from yesterday at dusk the world slows right down the ranks of the earth slow down facing westwards formations of corn-fields and low hills formations of rivers and forests formations of villages and sunflowers everything slows down facing westward all those shadows dragged over things slow right down like silk wrapped round the body of night slipping away, bolt by bolt the potato planters carrying their tools mingle with the kids coming home from school they walk slowly over the uplands home ahead of them not worried about time the children dawdle no more homework to do the adults dawdle because the potatoes have all been planted they’re all so slow as if the earth had somehow got into their bodies but those things planted at speed have in no sense slowed down nor have they ever gained speed incapable both of speed and slowness they’ve simply begun and all they have to do is grow is be from morning to night from spring to autumn neither hurried nor slow right to the very end 速度 种土豆的人们受到黎明的感染 受到正在上升的太阳的感染 活干得很快这时候世界是快的 露水干得很快田鼠逃得很快 在这样的时候应该赶快劳动者 很快就脱去了上衣光起了膀子 一日之计在于晨小学教师 也是这样教育学生他们 快速反应着教室里看不见世界 早晨的语文在纸上被理解为 一些昨天剩下的成语 在黄昏中世界就慢下来 大地的队伍朝着西方慢下来 玉米地和山岗的队列 河流和树林的队列 村庄和向日葵的队列 一切都朝着西方慢下来 所有拖在物体上的影子都慢下来 像裹着黑夜之身的丝绸 一匹匹滑落下去 种土豆的人们拎着工具 和离开了学校的孩子们会合 在高地上缓慢地走着 前面是家他们不担心时间 孩子们慢吞吞的 再没有课外作业 大人们慢吞吞的 因为土豆已经全部种下 他们那么缓慢 仿佛大地进入了他们的身体 那在快速中被种下的东西 并没有慢下来也从未快过 它们不能快也无法慢 只是开始了就要生长着 就要从早到晚从春天到秋天 在着不紧不慢直到结束
unsure how to address it it was still sitting at the head of the table only a moment ago the custodian of a bottle of stout absolutely indispensable it has a sense of its own status signifying conviviality as the sun goes down and the depth of froth in a glass opened with a pop at the start of the evening meal the action strikingly similar to that of a bullfrog the waiter even believes that it really is a frog believes that something on this table covered with cooked food has unexpectedly been brought back to life he is vexed by his misunderstanding and immediately shifts his attention to a toothpick he is the last one after him the world gives it no further thought with no other entries on it in the dictionary no original meanings extended meanings transferred meanings but those dishes originally arranged in submission before it signify nothing less than the flavours of Sichuan cuisine the napkin is touched by the hand of a general the roses in full bloom an allusion to privilege in an eccentric arc it exited this gathering an arc not its own the brewery never designed such a line for its product it now lies on the floor with the cigarette butts footprints bones and other rubbish an unrelated jumble an impromptu design of no use to anyone but its plight is even more wretched a butt reminds the world of a slob a bone brings to mind a dog or a cat and footprints of course allude to a human presence it is waste its whiteness being nothing more than its whiteness and its shape nothing more than its shape it falls beyond the reach of our adjectives I wasn’t a drinker then it was I who opened the bottle of beer and for this reason I noticed its strange leap its simple disappearance I suddenly tried to imagine the pop it made jumping out into space but was unable to mine was the body of an author of a collection of poetry and sixty kilograms of corporeal existence all I did was bend down and pick up this alluring small white object it was hard with a serrated rim which cut into my finger and made me feel a sharpness so unlike that of knives 啤酒瓶盖 不知道叫它什么才好 刚才它还位居宴会的高处 一瓶黑啤酒的守护者 不可或缺 它有它的身份 意味着一个黄昏的好心情 以及一杯泡沫的深度 在晚餐开始时嘭地一声跳开了 那动作很象一只牛蛙 侍者还以为它真的是 以为摆满熟物的餐桌上竟有什么复活 他为他的错觉懊恼 立即去注意一根牙签了 他是最后的一位 此后 世界就再也想不到它 词典上不再有关于它的词条 不再有它的本义 引义和转义 而那时原先屈居它下面的瓷盘 正意味着一组川味 餐巾被一位将军的手使用着 玫瑰在盛开 暗喻出高贵 它在一道奇怪的弧线中离开了这场合 这不是它的弧线 啤酒厂 从未为一瓶啤酒设计过这样的线 它现在和烟蒂 脚印 骨渣以及地板这些赃物在一起 它们互不相干 一个即兴的图案 谁也不会对谁有用 而它还更糟 一个烟蒂能使世界想起一个邋遢鬼 一块骨渣意味着一只猫或狗 脚印当然暗示了某个人的一生 它是废品 它的白色只是它的白色 它的形状只是它的形状 它在我们的形容词所能触及的一切之外 那时我尚未饮酒 是我把这瓶啤酒打开 因而我得以看它那么陌生地一跳 那么简单地不在了 我忽然也想象它那样“嘭”地一声 跳出去 但我不能 身为一本诗集的作者和一具六十公斤的躯体 我仅仅是弯下腰 把这个白色的小尤物拾起来 它那坚硬的 齿状的边缘 划破了我的手指 使我感受到某种与刀子无关的锋利
from somewhere invisible the crow kicks aside blocks of autumn cloud with its toes and dives into the sky in my eyes hung with the wind and the light the sign of the crow sulphur brew of a nun of black night croaking and piercing a hole in a flocking bird mattress to perch on a branch in my heart just as in the days of my youth conquering crows’ nests in the treetops of my home town my hands will never again touch that autumn landscape hands scaling another tall tree intending to pluck another crow from its darkness crow once it was a kind of bird meat a pile of feathers and entrails now a desire for narrative the impulse to speech and perhaps it is self-consolation in the face of adversity escape from a mass of inauspicious shadow this kind of labour is invisible compared to childhood days reaching with my bravest hand into black nests full of pointed beaks this is even more difficult when a crow perches in the wilds of my heart what I wish to give voice to is not is symbol not its metaphor or its mythology what I wish to give voice to is crow just as in years gone by I never found dove in a crow’s nest since childhood my hands have been covered in the thick calluses of language but as a poet I have never given voice to a crow with the circumspection and far-sightedness of age proficiency in various inspirations styles and rhymes just as when one begins to write dipping the brush deep into the ink-well I thought that the syllables had to be drenched in black from the very start to handle this crow skin flesh and bones the flows of the blood as well as the flight-paths disclosed in the sky all drenched in black a crow begins in this blackness in flight towards an outcome drenched in black from the moment of birth it enters into solitude and prejudice into universal persecution, pursuit and capture no bird it is crow in a world full of evil every single second ticks its ten thousand pretexts in the name of the forces of light or beauty guns are trained on this living representative of the powers of darkness and fired but for all that it cannot escape beyond the bounds of crow-being neither fly higher encroaching on eagle territory nor condescend to the lowly realm of the ants cave-maker of the skies both its own black hole and black drill-bit on high and alone from the heights of a crow it sets a course according to its bearings its time its passengers it is one happy-go-lucky big-mouthed crow and outside it the world is a mere fabrication no more than the boundless inspiration of crow you people the vastness of the land and the sky the vastness beyond the vastness you people Yu Jian and ensuing generations of readers are nothing but food in the nest of a crow I thought that a few dozen words would be enough to handle this crow description has made it a black box in words but I do not know who holds the key to the box who thinks up secret codes in crow-darkness in another description it appeared as a priest wearing puttees beneath the mighty walls of Heaven, this holy one in search of an entrance but I know now that the abode of the crow is closer to God than the priest’s perhaps while perched on the spire of a church one day it saw the fair body of the Nazarene when I describe the crow as a swan nourished on the everlasting blackness of night the actual bird shining with the light of a swan flies past that radiant swamp beside me and at once I lose all faith in this metaphor I attach the verb to descend to its wings yet it soars to the Ninth Heaven like a jet I call it taciturn and it immediately comes to rest on wordless as I look at this lawless wild witch-bird a swarm of verbs is drawn to my head crow verbs I cannot utter tongue fastened down with rivets I see them speeding up into the sky vaulting diving down into the sunlight then gathering again above the clouds leisurely and carefree forming crow-motion pictures that day like a hollow-hearted scarecrow I stood in an empty field and all my thoughts were steeped in crow I clearly sensed that crow felt its dark flesh its dark heart but I could not escape the sunless fortress as it soared so I soared how would I ever get back out of crow in order to catch it that day when I looked up into the blue sky each crow was already drenched in darkness a corpse-eating crowd I should have turned a blind eye earlier in the sky of my home town I stalked them once so innocent then a whiff of the stink of death and I’d panic and loosen my grip as for the sky I should have kept my eyes on the skylarks white cranes how I love and understand those beautiful angels but one day I saw a bird an ugly bird the colour of crow hanging from the grey ropes of the sky with mangled legs stiff and straight as the limbs of a puppet in crooked flight on the slopes of the sky circling a centre of some kind out tracing an enormous insubstantial circle and I heard a chorus of ominous cawings suspended somewhere out of sight and I wanted to say something to declare to the world that I was not afraid of those invisible sounds 对一只乌鸦的命名 从看不见的某处 乌鸦用脚趾踢开秋天的云块 潜入我的眼睛上垂着风和光的天空 乌鸦的符号黑夜修女熬制的硫酸 咝咝地洞穿鸟群的床垫 堕落在我内心的树枝 像少年时期在故乡的树顶征服鸦巢 我的手再也不能触摸秋天的风景 它爬上另一棵大树要把另一只乌鸦 从它的黑暗中掏出 乌鸦在往昔是一种鸟肉一堆毛和肠子 现在是叙述的愿望说的冲动 也许是厄运当头的自我安慰 是对一片不祥阴影的逃脱 这种活计是看不见的比童年 用最大胆的手伸进长满尖喙的黑穴更难 当一只乌鸦栖留在我的内心的旷野 我要说的不是它的象征它的隐喻或神话 我要说的只是一只乌鸦正像当年 我从未在一个鸦巢中抓出过一只鸽子 从童年到今天我的双手已长满语言的老茧 但作为诗人我还没有说过一只乌鸦 深谋远虑的年纪精通各种灵感辞格和韵脚 像写作之初把笔整枝地浸入墨水瓶 我想对付这只乌鸦词素一开始就得黑透 皮骨头和肉血的走向以及 披露在天空的飞行都要黑透 乌鸦就是从黑透的开始飞向黑透的结局 黑透就是从诞生就进入的孤独和偏见 进入无所不在的迫害和追捕 它不是鸟它是乌鸦 充满恶意的世界每一秒钟 都有一万个借口以光明或美的名义 朝这个代表黑暗势力的活靶开枪 它不会因此逃到乌鸦以外 飞得高些僭越鹰的座位 或者降得矮些混迹于蚂蚁的海拔 天空的打洞者它是它的黑洞穴它的黑钻头 它只在它的高度乌鸦的高度 驾驶着它的方位它的时间它的乘客 它是一只快乐的大嘴巴的乌鸦 在它的外面世界只是臆造 只是一只乌鸦无边无际的灵感 你们辽阔的天空和大地辽阔之外的辽阔 你们于坚以及一代又一代的读者 都是一只乌鸦巢中的食物 我断定一这只乌鸦只消几十个单词就能说出 形容的结果它被说成是一只黑箱 可是我不知道谁拿着箱子的钥匙 我不知道是谁在构思一只乌鸦藏在黑暗中的密码 在第二次形容中它作为一位裹着绑腿的牧师出现 这位圣子正在天堂的大墙下面寻找入口 可我明白乌鸦的居所比牧师更挨近上帝 或许某一天它在教堂的尖顶上 已窥见过那位拿撤勒人的玉体 当我形容乌鸦是永恒黑夜饲养的天鹅 一群具体的鸟闪着天鹅之光正焕然飞过我身 旁那片明亮的沼泽 这事实立即让我丧失了对这个比喻的全部信心 我把"落下"这个动词安在它翅膀之上 它却以一架飞机的风度"扶摇九天" 我对它说出"沉默"它却伫立于"无言" 我看见这只无法无天的巫鸟 在我头上的天空中牵引着一大群动词乌鸦的动词 我说不出它们我的舌头被这铆钉卡住 我看着它们在天空疾速上升跳跃 下沉到阳光中又聚拢在云之上 自由自在变化组合着乌鸦的各种图案 那日我像个空心的稻草人站在空地 所有心思都浸淫在一只乌鸦中 我清楚地感觉到乌鸦感觉到它黑暗的肉 黑暗的心可我逃不出这个没有阳光的城堡 当它在飞翔就是我在飞翔 我又如何能抵达乌鸦之外把它捉住 那日当我仰望苍天所有的乌鸦都已黑透 餐尸的族我早就该视而不见在故乡的天空 我曾经一度捉住过它们那时我多么天真 一嗅着那股死亡的臭味我就惊惶地把手松开 对于天空我早就该只瞩目于云雀白鸽 我生来就了解并热爱这些美丽的天使 可是当那一日我看见一只鸟 一只丑陋的有乌鸦的那种颜色的鸟 被天空灰色的绳子吊着 受难的双腿像木偶那么绷直 斜搭在空气的坡上 围绕着某一中心旋转着 巨大而虚无的圆圈 当那日我听见一串串不祥的叫喊 挂在看不见的某处 我就想说点什么 以向世界表白我并不害怕 那些看不见的声音
you, little uninvited pest made your stronghold in my room sneaking in, creeping out never stopping to say “hello” it was only this evening when I saw your illustrious name listed beside that of Donald Duck on the TV that I realized you were a movie star that was the end of my peace of mind there was a mouse in my room like a lump growing inside my body many times I’d been to the hospital but they’d never found anything half a steamed bread bun had been sawn away there were suspicious black specks in my rice who, after all, was the culprit? I became more cautious ears straining to hear the slightest noise listening to cupboards listening to floorboards of course, I tracked down those small but solid sounds but I had no way of knowing for sure whether the little runt was nibbling on my favourite clothes or gnawing away at antiques left to me by my grandfather you were always so light on your feet it was almost as if you wanted to spare my feelings my mother’s mother used to be like this in the middle of windy nights she would quietly get out of bed and close all the windows you dance on cakes piss on tablets the books I like are riddled with gaping wounds but when it came to the crunch, you had no idea what made a noise and what didn’t so when you knocked over my chinaware which then jumped to the ground from a great height you triggered, much to your surprise, an earthquake that startled me from dreams on tip-toes unable to fly into a rage having to be lighter on my feet than you I felt my way from the bed-head to the book-shelf worried that you would hear me like you were in the middle of writing something not to be disturbed but I was clumsier than you in the end, I knocked over a chair panicked, I looked left and right ashamed of something, it seemed in fact, you, you little runt, were probably already fast asleep after a drink of milk and a change of bedroom hiding in your hole eyes like a couple of black beans, twitching in your head watching me, big and lumbering stark naked stripped of all poise and learning about what I looked like at night you kept quiet in this you were different from your father this quality of yours put me in an unbearable position I couldn’t stand it any longer I knocked and poked at random hell-bent on a thorough search to arrest you and to put you to death but when I saw the massive articles of furniture around me and the bunkers concealed within countless household odds and ends frustration got the better of me and not knowing what to do I called off the hunt outsiders were under the mistaken impression that I had the room to myself that I was calm and steady devoted to study actually, I was a nervous wreck I avoided going out I’d hurry home as soon as work was over and, once inside, start opening cupboards and cases checking up on that rotten bastard who always kept me guessing to see what new tricks he’d played on me 灰鼠 不请自来的小坏蛋 在我房间里建立了据点 神出鬼没 从来不打照面 晚上在电视里看到你的大名 和唐老鸭并列 方知你是明星 我再也不得安宁了 灰鼠已来到我的房间 像是一个瘤子 已长在我身体内部 多次去医院透视 什么也没有查出 我的馒头被锯掉一半 我的大米有可疑的黑斑 到底作案者是谁 我开始小心翼翼 竖耳谛听 听听衣柜听听地板 我当然搜到那细小而坚硬的声音 可我无法断定 你小子是在咬我心爱的衬衣 还是在啃外公留给我的古玩 你总是轻溜溜地走动 似乎出于对我的关心 从前外祖母也喜欢如此 在深夜 悄悄下床 关好风中的窗子 你在蛋糕上跳舞 在药片上撒尿 把我的好书咬得百孔千疮 但毕竟你不知道什么会响 什么不会 于是撞翻瓷器 又跳过某个高度 居然造成一回地震 吓得我从梦中逃出 踮起脚尖 又不能勃然大怒 还必须干得比你更轻 从床头摸到书架 担心着被你听见 似乎你正在写作 不能打扰 我比你笨拙 终于撞倒了椅子 我惶惶然东张西望 显得心中有愧 其实你小子或许已酣然睡去 喝了牛奶 换了一个套间 你在暗处 转动着两粒黑豆似的眼珠 看见我又大又笨 一丝不挂 毫无风度 你发现我在夜里的样子 你保持沉默 这一点和父亲不同 这种品德 使我深觉难堪 我终于不能忍受 乱敲乱捅 找决定彻底搜查 把你逮捕 处死 但一看到周围这些庞大无比的家俱 那些隐藏在无数什物中的掩体 我就心烦意乱 茫然失措 只好放弃行动 外面都以为我独处一室 必定神清思静 潜心学问 其实我担惊受怕 避免出门 一下班就匆匆回家 一进门就打开柜子 打开箱子 检查那个不露声色的家伙 又干了些什么勾当
there are many rivers in the mountains where I grew up in deep gorges they flow they rarely catch a glimpse of sky there are no expansive sails hoisted high over their surfaces nor huge flocks of river gulls drawn on by boat-songs it’s only when you’ve climbed endless ridges and hills that you hear this river sound it’s only on rafts made of great tree-trunks lashed together that you dare ride upon these waves some areas will stay forever unknown to humankind the freedom of those places belongs to the eagles alone in the rainy season the waters turn brutal gale winds on the high plateau push boulders down into valleys mud dyes the rivers red as if the mountains were actually bleeding only when it’s calm do you see the plateau’s bulging veins those people who live on either side of these rivers may never come to know of one another’s existence but wherever you go in the place I grew up in you will here people talking about these rivers as if discussing their gods 河流 在我故乡的高山中有许多河流 它们在很深的峡谷中流过 它们很少看见天空 在那些河面上没有高扬的巨帆 也没有船歌引来大群的江鸥 要翻过千山万岭 你才听得见那河的声音 要乘着大树扎成的木筏 你才敢在那波涛上航行 有些地带永远没有人会知道 那里的自由只属于鹰 河水在雨季是粗暴的 高原的大风把巨石推下山谷 泥巴把河流染红 真像是大山流出来的血液 只有在宁静中 人才看见高原鼓起的血管 住在河两岸的人 也许永远都不会见面 但你走到我故乡的任何一个地方 都会听见人们谈论这些河 就像谈到他们的神