曹东
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加入时间: 2007/06/18
文章: 19
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夜色变得坚硬(十首)
Hard Turns the Night
曹东 著
杨虚 译
Poems by Cao Dong
Translated by Yang Xu
1、许多灯
许多灯，在我身体的房间
亮着。我轻轻走动
它们就摇晃
影子松软，啮咬一些痛觉
我上班下班，挤公交车
陪领导笑谈。十年了
竟无人发现
只在一人时，我才小心地打开
并一一清点，哪些灯已经熄灭
1. Many Lights
Many lights are on
In the rooms of my body. When I move about
They wave
With feeble radiance. I can feel a gnaw
When I go to and off work, on and off the bus
And work as a satellite round my leader. No one has found them
In the past decade
Only when I’m alone do I carefully disclose them
And check them one by one to see which have all gone out.
2、 废墟
深夜我醒着。
我听见一些脚步声，坚定地离开。
梦想、友情
散乱的青春
凝固在一起的往事。
听到伐木者，在阴晦的林间挥舞斧头
月光碎裂，低沉。我身上木屑纷飞。
我在变，越来越轻
现在，只剩下一点身体的废墟......
2. The Ruins
I’m awake deep at night.
I hear some footsteps resolutely leaving.
Dreams, Friendship
Scattered Youth
And Curdled Bygones.
I hear the wood-cutter wave his hatchet in the murky forest
Fragmented and dim the moonshine. Scraps flying about from my woody body.
I’m changed, lighter and lighter
Only some ruins of myself having been left behind now…
3、端午
河流在月光下向荒野逃奔
亡者之灵在河面聚拢嘴唇
他们等待着，垂钓者将他们的冷
钓走
五月的中国，一滴雨追赶另一滴雨
一个夜将另一个夜逼下悬崖
总有人在梦中失声尖叫
声音向下，像野草的根须
扎痛坟墓中那些苏醒者
他们说，他们的骨头锋利如剃刀
割断命运的河流，千年不锈
他们说，他们活在自己的命里
头颅发芽，周身开满花朵
3. The Fifth Day of the Fifth Moon
The river is fleeing into the wilderness in the moonshine
The souls of the dead gather their mouths on waves
Waiting anglers to angle away
Their coldness
In China in the fifth moon, one drop of rain chases another
And one night forces another down the precipice
There are always people screaming in their dreams
Their cries are downward like the roots of weeds
Pricking the awakeners in graves
They say that like razors which never rust
Their bones are sharp enough to cut the river of fate
They say they live in their own fates
Their skulls sprouting and their bodies richly flowering
4、蚂蚁在大地上搬运黄昏
薄得很，大街上的人群
在黄昏到来之前，表情陈旧
被速度涂上一层虚幻的药粉
欲望的蔓草，长满缝隙
在锈蚀的
百货公司面前，影子低垂
不断滑落三两声唏嘘
初入城市者，站在顶端
像一头准备出行的鲸，身体幽暗
内心湿润
他知道，蚂蚁在大地上搬运黄昏
惟有黑夜，锋芒闪烁
能够将这个世界修剪整齐
4. Ants Transport Dusk on the Land
Too thin, the crowd in the street
Wear their old-styled expressions before dusk
Smeared with a layer of illusory powder by acceleration
The weeds of desire grow wild in seams and crevices
Casting their lowly shadows before the rusted
Department stores
Two or three sighs keep sliding
The newcomer into the city stands on the top
Like a whale ready for its journey, its body dark
And its heart moistened
He knows that ants transport dusk on the land
Only the night, shining with its blade
Can prune this world neat
5、抽屉
从黑夜缓缓地抽出白天
摊开在面前的生活
不过是一些杂乱的物件
举起又放下
生活的抽屉，悄无声息地合拢
这样不断反复，生命被抽空
像一张抹布
在擦亮几件东西之后
沉闷地蜷缩在角落
而那擦亮的部分
又能保持多久不会生锈
5. The Drawer
The day is slowly pulled out of the night
The life spread before eyes
Is only some disorderly articles
Which are taken and again put back
Into the drawer of the life that is pushed back in silence
Such a repetition has voided our life
Like a piece of duster cloth
It sullenly huddles in the corner
After polishing certain articles
And how long will those polished parts
Keep from rusting
6、梦
仿佛是上个世纪，又好像就在今夜
我梦见自己在家乡的庄稼地行走
衣衫褴褛，像个乞丐
一条狗在后面叫起来了
它大声挽留我，希望我们再谈谈......
月光一米、两米
把我们之间的距离，洗得干干净净
6. A Dream
As if in the last century, but again as if in this night
I dreamed of myself walking in the crop-field in my homeland
All in rags like a beggar
A dog began to bark behind me
It loudly asked me to stay and wished that we could converse…
The moonshine cleansed the distance between us
Meter by meter
7、雨
雨来了——
摇晃无数细长的钢针
大地在痉挛
它已破碎地等了很久
河流的喉咙被肮脏堵塞
奔跑着一群饥饿的石头
那些滚动的疼痛
多像乡村熟悉的面孔
向天空微微敞开吧
这世界的骨节
需要一场疾雨似的针灸
7. The Rain
The rain has come
Waving its countless fine needles
The land is in spasm
Having waited for long in its fragments
The river’s throat is choked by dirt
Running wild is a crowd of hungry stones
The rolling aches
Much resemble those on the well-known faces in the village
Let it somewhat open to the sky
The joints of this world
Need a storm of acupuncture
8、在我黑暗的身体内部
在我黑暗的身体内部
始终有一只手摸索着什么
越过有阴影的肺，清晰地
敲打我的骨头
我无法阻止，只能说
轻些，再轻些
它要寻找，被挤压
变硬的往事
那些高速滚动的石头
此刻，安静下来
守候在心灵的暴风口
把劈来的锋刃
一一碰卷
只有我知道，这些怪异的事物
呈现和消逝的方向
8. Inside My Dark Body
There is always a hand groping something
Inside my dark body
That clearly knocks at my bones
Through my shadowed lungs
I can in no way stop it but say
Do it gently and more gently
It intends to look for the bygones
Hardened by squeeze
Those quickly rolling stones
Have quieted down now
Guarding at the stormy entrance of heart
Defunctionalizing one after another
Of the broad knives in the cutting
Only I know the directions
Where these strange things appear and disappear
9、我要翻晒在这片土地上
我的血是青铜的颜色，深沉地
发出金属滚动的声音
它在歌唱啊，嗓子有点嘶哑
像河流，疲倦了，舔着自己的身体入睡
在太阳下面翻晒
我是一片平躺的原野
被河流捆绑，随它纵横奔走
我的锄头站在身旁
爆出翠绿的枝桠
我的庄稼望着我
发出一串粗俗的傻笑
我要喊一声祖母，她睡得比我深
怎样才能摸到她，让我们的小指头
快乐地勾一下
也许，她早已化作泥土，喂了庄稼
淌进我的血管，变成一片青铜似的火光
还有我的祖父，那个赶羊的糟老头子
葬在山坡上，坟很小，像一只羊低头吃草
他只能继续孤独下去了，谁让他喜欢羊呢
我已花完五十年时光翻晒这片土地
现在，像祖先一样
我要把自己翻晒在这片土地上
9. I’ll Insolate Myself on This Land
My blood is bronze-colored, giving
A deep sound of the rolling metal
It is singing with its voice a little hoarse
Like a fatigued river, licking itself into sleep
Insolating myself in the sun
I’m a stretch of wilderness lying straight
Bound by the river that takes me wherever it goes
My hoe stands by me
Suddenly verdant branches sprouting out of it
My crops watch me
Giving a string of vernacular laughs
I’ll wake up my grandmother who sleeps more sound than I
How can I feel her? Let our little fingers
Have a hook of each other jocundly
Perhaps she has long turned into soil and fed crops
Which runs into my blood vessel and turns into bronze-like flames
And my grandfather, that shabby old man driving sheep
Buried on the slope in a small grave, like a sheep grazing with its head lowered
He has to be lonely forever. Who told him to be fond of sheep
I’ve spent half a century insolating this land
And now, like my fathers
I’ll insolate myself on this land
10、还给我
劈开坟墓，还给我需要修复的一生
劈开火焰，还给我木柴的疼痛。
劈开石头，还给我一整天的沉默。
劈开悬崖，还给我陡峭的日子
劈开双手，还给我反反复复的命运。
劈开广场，还给我一次沸腾的集会
撕碎的呼吸，锐利的发丝
劈开一滴血，还给我生命的热度。
劈开沼泽，还给我迷失的家乡
亲人的脸，土地贫穷的血浆。
劈开河流，还给我一个干净的新娘。
还给我，通向肉体的地铁。
还给我，一根柔软的刺，一次生动的颤栗
还给我，沉陷的双脚，废弃的年青的背影
劈开一个时代。
还给我生锈的骨头，散落的面孔
不断加速的梦
和脱尽羽毛的事实……
10. Return It to Me
Split the grave and return to me the life that needs to be repaired
Split the fire and return to me the pain of faggots
Split the stone and return to me the whole day’s silence
Split the precipice and return to me the steep days
Split the hands and return to me the indeterminate fate
Split the square and return to me a boiling congregation
Torn breaths and sharp hairs
Split a drop of blood and return to me the warmth of life
Split the moor and return to me the lost homeland
The dear ones’ faces and the blood of the poor land
Split the river and return to me a clean bride
Return to me the subway to the flesh
Return to me a tender thorn and a vivid tremble
Return to me my sunken feet and the figure of my used youth
Split an epoch
Return to me the rusted bones and scattered faces
And the accelerating dream
And the de-feathered facts… |
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