杨炼 (Yang Lian)

GRAFTON BRIDGE  HOSPITAL  MOUNTAIN VALLEY  山谷  THE STREET I SEE FROM MY WINDOW  TRAVELLING WITH THE STARS  THE NON-PERSONAL SNOW 


GRAFTON BRIDGE

as you cross    the cemetery beneath the bridge closes in
pinetrees raise suspicious faces
an ocean of the dead    like iron, giving off a fishy smell
the rusty sunlight has passed by
sniffs at you like an old dog
a dog staring    the scene is particularly clear from the bridge

a sky shrivelled by extinct volcanoes    a dark red fist
a drop of the past’s blood on a low-budget headstone
clouds    merge into yesterday’s storm
and are fouled by the claws of birds

transparent windows opened    by the balustrade you brought home
you cross the bridge at home
an entire city lodged in a sickroom
green weeds linking so many feet together
under a stone roof the stone master closes in
in an iron corridor the iron master closes in
fantasizing with the eyes    death need not speed up
that end where you go away and turn old
the dead on the lawn looking down at you    are all the same
distance away

but you have to come back    as though fettered by handcuffs of glass
to overhaul every pier of today’s sins
a child running crazy among snow-white seagulls
standing suddenly still    crying loudly for the stars
with a pain abruptly extended in the night    bitterly weeping


note: Grafton Bridge, Auckland, NZ. Known locally as ‘Suicide Bridge’. 

格拉夫顿桥

桥下的墓地  在你过桥时  逼近
松树抬起一张张狐疑的脸
死者的海面  铁块般散发腥味
铁锈色的阳光绕过去
像一只老狗嗅嗅你
一只狗眼盯着  风景在桥上格外清晰

死火山萎缩的天空  一个暗红的拳头
廉价墓碑上一滴过时的血
云  汇合了昨天所有的风暴
却被鸟爪弄脏

被带你回家的栏杆  敞开透明的窗户
你在家里过桥
整整一座城市住进一间病房
碧绿的野草把那么多脚步连在一起
石头的主人在石头屋顶下逼近
铁的主人在铁的走廊里逼近
用眼睛幻想  死亡就无须速度
你走去的还是你被变老的那一端
草地上的死者俯瞰你  是相同的距离

而你得回来  像被玻璃手铐铐着
检修每座今天的罪恶的桥墩
一群雪白的海鸥里一个狂奔的孩子
突然站住  为星星高呼
为黑夜中陡然延长的疼痛  放声哭泣


HOSPITAL

the lid closes    whether or not your face is hammered full of nails
spittle, as much as in a lifetime of humiliation,
long since bleached out this light, easy death

a hand can’t reach its own pain
the darkness of this night    stands altogether outside events
you rent four flimsy walls

listen to the river flowing inside a paper carton
between bones left blank    listen to the storm
wait for the next patient

as another tear flies into your eye
a shrill shout    collides with the shining glass
becomes a cheer    you’re ruthlessly driving the nails in

医院

盖子合拢  你脸上是否也钉满了钉子
像一生的耳辱那么多唾沫
早已漂白了这轻而易举的死亡

一只手摸不到自己的疼痛
这个夜晚的黑暗  全都置身事外
你租用薄薄的四壁

在一只纸盒中聆听一条河流
在空出来的骸骨间  聆听暴风雨
等候下一位病人

像另一滴泪水飞进你眼里
一声尖叫  撞到白花花的玻璃上
变成欢呼  你在狠狠钉着钉子


MOUNTAIN VALLEY

as we come to darkness    on the valley floor we see light
rocks    deep as the sky
suddenly snap like a dangerous staircase
timid fingers bent toward the violent stars weep
turn us into cripples
or deceive our eyes

when light becomes a creature    we are dead
these tiny squirming bodies
drill holes into us    shining
moonlight falling as though spreadeagled
a city lying on a bed overgrown with illusion
reading a dark book    its cover the ocean
its back    the sound of wild animals’ hooves on mud
pitfalls    when you think of it, are always underfoot
once distance has vanished    we touch a bright red rivulet
wrinkled with stones    exhibiting every terror that ever was


山谷

当我们抵达黑暗时  在谷底见到光
岩石  深邃如天空
如一架危险的楼梯突然折断
胆怯的手指弯向狂暴的星群哭泣
把我们弄成残废的
还是欺骗我们的双眼

当光成为一种生物时  我们是死的
那些蠕动的小小肉体
在我们身上钻孔 照耀
月亮像一个人摊开四肢坠落
城市躺在错觉丛生的床上
阅读一本阴暗的书  封面是大海
封底  是野兽践踏着泥水的蹄声
陷阱  想起时总在脚下

当距离消失  我们才摸到鲜红的溪流
用石头的皱纹  展览出从前所有的恐惧


THE STREET I SEE FROM MY WINDOW

on the street I see from my window it never rains
it lies by my windowsill
composed and calm as a comb
waiting    for a silent woman
flying in from shore like a tired seagull
hands hugging herself as tight as a pebble
on her back    in a furry grey satchel
a lemon quietly changing shape

the street I see from my window is white with snow
all winter    on the street only
seven stray cats and a man sleeping in an abandoned car
or eight identical pairs of eyes
empty husks, utterly free of resentment
so affectionate I am convinced
they have promised to feed each other with their corpses
and, like a guarantee    the gentlest of touching

从我窗口望出去的街道

从我窗口望出去的街道总是不下雨
它镇静得像一把梳子
搁在窗台上
它在等待  一个不声不响的女人
像只累了的海鸥从海边飞来
像粒石子两手抱紧自己
她背上  翻毛的灰色口袋里
一只柠檬在悄悄改变形状

从我窗口望出去的街道白雪皑皑
整个冬天  街上只有
七只野猫和一个睡破汽车的男人
或者八双一模一样的眼睛
像被打空的麦粒毫无怨意
他们亲热得使我相信
他们已许下互相用尸体充饥的诺言
和犹如保证的  最温柔地抚摸


TRAVELLING WITH THE STARS

at either end of the refugee horizon    the stars
a crystal tempest in time with you
half the sky like harvested fields
you are a grain of corn    grinding in the mill
you scan the scene    the way that enemies yearn for each other
a man walking through a century in time with the stars
drinking water on that seashore
hearing that drum    beating from the forehead to the back of the brain
stabbing skin    chiselling bones one by one into silvery white
looking at the stars you too begin to float
floating inside yourself
time differences    decaying along with the body
only in starlight does the golden ocean disclose its flesh-eating processes
half the sky the depth of remaining life
falls
you are the other half that is chosen
when you can’t help shining you can’t help falling apart

与星同游

在逃难的地平线两边  星星是和你
同步的水晶风暴
半个天空像被收割后的田野
你是一粒小麦  在磨坊里磨着
你眺望  像仇敌们互相思念
一个人用星的步子行走百年
在那海边喝水
听那鼓声  从前额敲击到脑后
刺破皮肤  把骨头凿刻得根根银白
看着星星自己也浮动起来
你在你里边浮动
时差  随着一具躯体而腐烂
金色大海随着星光才暴露食肉的过程
半个天空  残存活着的深度
落下
你是被选中的另外半个
在不得不明亮时不得不四分五裂


THE NON-PERSONAL SNOW

1

the snowfall is arid  rushed  imitates the enthusiasm of a person
brutish, dusky daylight
snow walks along the treetops with tiny claws

tiny skeletons
skeletons of glass refined by fierce fire

snow  always stops
the moment it's still grating on the ear

as for death  what can the dead still remember?
a body secretly sprinkled all silver
a thousand pregnant women giving birth in the sky
cold orphans still not given permission
a pink ladder of flesh  leads to a tiny attic
a tiny attic of white night  where corpses are kept

you don't exist  so all year round you are snow-capped

2

the snowy ground is covered with blind men  they can't see
the poem that died in the hotel
and  the valleys that breed the fearsome sunlight

below the same precipices they lose their shadows
become thin black needles on the garden sundial
wash their feet in laughter

take pains to carve patterned vessels from a dead bird
drink deep at picnic time of the scarlet stream
noon  the scarlet stream exuded by blind eyes

they can't see  the tourists in the poem
lying naked in hotel beds
no need to fall  to get to the depths of an avalanche

3

a little clay lamp  is your present to darkness
in the clashing together of the sounds of the rain
the snow in your name is born
snow that engrains your body
pain  releases flocks of birds shut up in stones for years
each one a word  and you are wordless
the storm  is a cemetery in the air above city roofs
angels too  in the nest must lick their wounds
like golden-headed beasts kneeling on the olden days
a person revealed by water just has to follow the current
a snowfall is like music that goes down to death
you, when a name dies every day
expose a body that no-one can caress
let the sky feel
from snow to blood  feel all over the flame
until darkness  pays back some unknown person's time

4

night like a madman's thoughts  knocks
on our skulls  making us encounter
dangerous snow from a non-existent distance
like horses racing past a single peak beneath two stars
with the pricking of a nail buried in the summer night
hear ghosts laying the dust  sweeping the moon
hear  headstones tell lies  flaunt the arts of living

we are all snow  slipping downhill
innately non-personal and so squandering each person's death
night on the sickbed  squanders vain hopes
as the village of madmen strums away
candles are undying  bells sprinkle tears
on mountains and in fields white bones take off the mourning dress of our days
and  we are frozen into one complete stone

5

this mountain valley can't be visited
just like inside you  that attic of white night

when you're invited by the snow  flowers and plants are a silence
field of vision  like a glass of wine poured into darkness
burning in other places

when you're turned down by the snow  you are colourless
a hawk roosting in a wound  softly weeping sunlight
rock  slowly swallows you
and your sex shines with a brilliance impossible after death

when you have become the only impossibility
a lifetime's snows have already fallen

in the attic of white night  forceps tightly pinch
in the fragile dreams of birds  the sky cheers heartlessly
sweet pears on girls' breasts  fall into
the rainy season   the sound of rain  chases you all over your insides
an utterly naked man is only a snowflake

spotless white underfoot in the valley  glaring

a walk of a thousand years still hasn't crossed this room you aren't in

6

those who live in time know time isn't time
a rock is itself a poem
and shadow   engraved as a seat by a lake
weeds every June   read aloud here
snow   the silver-white book of the dead
and the brush of steel wire and coir is still stubbornly sweeping

a pair of muddy shoes of coffin wood
a set of paper handcuffs  make the convict more terrified yet
these words  go wrong when written down
words carved on cliffs  ride on a runaway cable car
broken apart day after day
poets who leap into a poem deserve only to be broken apart

in an imagination more lifelike than death
snow is a once-only walk  once and once only
June rots in chorus  as the bodies of the dead ring bells
all men  are ringing solitary bells that are fulfilled in this moment
dying more lifelike than in imagination
snow   has gone too far  can't help burying everything

无人称的雪(之一)

一场雪干燥 急促 模仿一个人的激情
兽性的昏暗白昼
雪用细小的爪子在树梢上行走

细小的骨骼
一场大火提炼的玻璃的骨骼

雪 总是停在
它依然刺耳的时候

关于死 死者又能回忆起什么
一具躯体中秘密洒满了银子
一千个孕妇在天上分娩
未经允许的寒冷孤儿
肉的淡红色梯子 通向小小的阁楼
存放尸首的 白色夜晚的阁楼

你不存在 因而你终年积雪


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