A collection of poems from 诗天空(http://www.poetrysky.com). Translated by Henry and Jin Lei.
小城霏雨 被遗忘的高原小站 瞬间 暮冬之雪 Late Winter Snow 雨中长笛 雪一直没有飘下来 滴漏的水声 是春天，也不是春天
清晨，屋外正在落雨 室内幽暗 在我久居的院落深处 雨水滴嗒 打湿了我窗前的老树和葡萄藤 悠然间我想起 那夏日里曾客居的外省小城 早市的喧闹把我从睡意中唤醒 沿滴水的店铺屋檐 我走过早市的街巷 人流在伞的下面 在毗连的木屋檐下 在异乡的语音中 一条平缓而从容的溪水 从这条巷到那条巷 渐渐地 从沉甸甸的装满青菜的提篮里 从一丛丛淌着水滴的花束中 雨水霏霏，溶入一片江南画屏 当我沿早市的街巷 走回我客居的小屋 这外省小城和一束鲜花的幽香 给我留下了深深的温情 连雨水也那样亲切 有如我北方的家 晚饭后院落中的寂静 小女儿一整天玩得疲倦了 在初睡中喃喃梦呓 有时雨水就是在这时滴落在葡萄架上 一丝凉意正浸入夏夜的深处 有如那束晚香玉所唤起的 Downpour in a Small Town Dawn breaks to rain outdoors And indoors it is dark Drumming rain Wets the old tree and the grapevine outside my window Back in the courtyard that has long been my home And my thoughts turn To a summer's day spent in a small town in another province When the noise of the morning market woke me from slumber I walked through market streets Whose shop eaves dripped with rain Packed with people under umbrellas Under abutting eaves of wooden houses Amid the accents of another place A brimming gentle stream Going gradually From one street to the next Through handbaskets laden with greens And dripping bunches of flowers Fused by pouring rain into a painted southern screen And the little town in another province With its aroma of cut flowers Warmed me deeply as I walked Back to my narrow lodgings With intimacy even of rain As if after supper in the still courtyard Of my northern home My daughter tired with daylong play Murmured in the somniloquy of first sleep And sometimes now raindrops on the vine trellis Infuse cool deep into a summer's night Like those tuberoses calling
午后的寂静中 我们走向坡地上的小站 高原的青石峰下 空旷 看不到一个人 道路左边 渐渐侵入的流沙群 在阳光下金黄地闪烁 两只追逐的狗 远远地 从路基上倾斜而下 钻进了一片疲倦不堪的矮树林 那辆风狂的卡车 扔下我们 拖着尘土的长龙 很快地消失在山路的拐角上 阳光直射 再也听不到任何声音 穿铁路制服的小伙子迎面走来 突然终止了他缓慢的口哨声 从他疑问的目光里 我们已注定地被抛弃在这儿 远远望去 这高原的七月 那座几乎被列车遗忘的小站 在蒸腾的气流中遥遥而立 比来自远方的客人更孤单 A Small Forgotten Station on the Plateau We walked in the solitude of afternoon To a little hillside station In Open land under a crag on the plateau With no one to be seen And encroaching sand sparkling gold In the sunlight on the right of the road Far off two chasing dogs Swerved down from the roadbed And plunged into exhausted bushes The mad lorry Threw us off and vanished quickly In a trail of dust Round the bend of the hill road And all sound stopped In direct sunlight The lad coming to meet us in railway uniform Broke off his slow whistling And we knew from his interrogative gaze That we were doomed to be abandoned here The distant little station Looked almost forgotten by trains Swaying in the steaming draught Of the July plateau Lonelier than a traveller from distant parts
有时候，邻家的鸽子落在我的窗台上
咕咕地轻啼
窗口的大杨树不知不觉间已高过了四层楼的屋顶
它们轻绕那些树冠又飞回来
阳光在蓬松的羽毛上那么温柔
生命日复一日
我往往空着手从街上回来
把书和上衣掷在床上
日子过得匆匆忙忙
我时常不能带回来什么
即使离家数日
只留下你和这小小的屋子
生活日复一日
面对无声无息的默契
我们已习惯了彼此间的宽容
一对鸽子在窗台上咕咕地轻啼
他们在许多瞬间属于我们
日复一日灰尘落在书脊上渐渐变黄
如果生活时时在给予
那也许是另一回事
我知道，那无意间提出的请求并不过份
我知道，夏日正转向秋天
也许一场夜雨过后就会落叶纷飞
不是说再回到阳光下幽深的绿荫
日子需要闲遐的时候
把家收拾干净，即使
轻声述说些无关紧要的事
情感也会在其间潜潜走过
当唇际间最初的战栗使你感知了幸福
这一瞬已延伸到了生命的尽头
而那些请求都是无意间说出的
Instants
Sometimes the neighbour's pigeons land on my windowledge
Cooing softly
Where the great poplar at the window has somehow
grown beyond the fourth-floor roof
They skim round its crown and back
The sunlight on their fluffy feathers
Alive day by day
I keep coming indoors empty-handed
And throwing book and jacket on the bed
As the days hurry by
I can bring scarcely anything home
Even after days away
Only you remain and the little room
Living day by day
We have grown used
By an unspoken pact to the room's breadth
A pair of pigeons cooing softly on the windowledge
Which at many instants belong to us
Day by day
Dust that falls on book spines gradually yellows
Perhaps it is otherwise
That life, if it does, provides
I know that the unwitting request is not excessive
And that summer turns to autumn
Perhaps fallen leaves will swirl after a night of rain
It does not mean a return to green shade deep in sunlight
A house-cleaning when leisure affords
Feelings may come on latent even as
Irrelevancies are spoken softly
The instant when a first trembling on the lips teaches you happiness
Lasts till the end of life
A request always voiced unwittingly
我来到您的身旁 静度这一年中最安闲的时光 炉火不用生得很旺 屋里已足够温暖 可以无心地睡一会儿 梦着小时候的日子 靠着棕色的木板隔墙 我仿佛又听到了 那有些忧伤的哼唱 当年乡下的老屋 也许早已不存在了 石竹花在窗台上慢慢地生长 暮冬的雪飘落了一个又一个黄昏 寂静中能听到它们打在玻璃上的声音 透过被飞雪映得发亮的窗子 老树的枝桠显得更加黝黑 屋檐上融雪垂落的声音 使我久久不能入睡 像我小时候一样 母亲依旧那样整日地操劳 她从这间房到那间房 最后 掩掩我的被角才去睡了 飘飞的雪花渐渐掩住了以往的记忆 隐约间我听见 细枝坠落 温暖的炉火上 水壶在发出嘶嘶的声息
I have come to you To spend the calmest time of year in peace The fire need not be very bright It is warm enough here To sleep awhile unwittingly Dreaming of youth Against the brown wooden partition I can almost hear The somewhat distressed humming The old country house May no longer be there With pinks growing slowly on the windowsill Late winter snows float down twilight by twilight To be heard in the solitude against the glass And through the window illuminated by snowflakes The old tree's crotches seem swarthier And the sound of melting snow falling from the eaves Keeps me long from sleep And in my youth I did not sleep till Mother Having slaved daylong From one room to the next Tucked in my coverlet So the snowflakes gradually tuck in memory of the past And I faintly hear Twigs fall And the kettle singing On the warm fire
这是长笛的声音 黄昏的雨飘个不停 (可以把音量放得小一点) 那些日子已经远得看不见了 秋天在和一个少年的心灵对话 既遥远又陌生 那些逝去的日子 比书中描写得更确切 校园里的树叶黄了 飘了一地 心中的秋天更高远 高得让人发空 落叶在风中滚动 长笛却很纯净 纯净得有如漫步于高原的七月 草场无垠 马群在月光下漫游 而我还听到了那逝去的 深秋里的脚步声 就在这高高的楼窗前 夕阳里闪动的鸽群 现在不知在哪个阳台上躲雨 长笛的声音在飘 飘得很远 Flute in Rain This is the sound of a flute In waves of twilight rain Days beyond our sight The autumn speaks again To a young man Distant and strange The past Is clearer than any book describes Yellow leaves blew Over the campus In a season clear and high Drawing that wonderful cool sense of emptiness Yellow leaves always But that pure flute fills the way Like wandering a July plateau Boundless grass in rolling hills Hooves in the midnight clay Yet I still hear the past Old autumn's footfalls Outside this high window Pigeons flashed at dusk On whose balcony do they now roost? The sound of a flute drifts loosely, drifts into distant space
不是在水或音乐的节拍里 有时在一阵无名的节奏和忧郁的情调中 有一种声音比诱惑更神秘 不一定要知道你是谁 幻想在人丛中不会找到你 也许因此，雪一直没有飘下来 果树对于果树不知是怎么相爱的 围墙上的麻雀飞去又回来 在开花的季节过后 每一个走过园子的人都会有不同的感觉 人和人是怎么相爱的 有时隔着比树更远的距离 雪一直没有飘下来 尽管在许多瞬间沉入了铅灰色的天空 幻想的风使激情发冷 也许那从未降雪的云层很低 他无法知道化成水流的感觉 也许那时你已不再那么说 但，雪一直没有飘下来 Still It hasn't Snowed Not from the meter of water or music But from unnamed rhythm and gloom A voice more tempting than mystery You don't need to know who you are Fantasy won't find you in a crowded bar with that possibility, still it hasn't snowed Nobody knows the love between peach trees Sparrows fly from the courtyard wall After the season of untouched flowers Everyone passing will feel differently How do people love each other? Sometimes they're more distant than trees And still it hasn't snowed Although immersed in the leaden sky Fantasy's front holds passion down Perhaps the low clouds of unfallen snow Never know The feeling of letting go Perhaps you might not say so then But still it hasn't snowed
厨房里均匀的滴水声
在午夜的梦境之外
你被无情地敲打
那个曾走失于灰色街巷的女孩
穿出街头绿地和逝如流水的光阴
已不再年轻
但一个人内在的光彩会使她发亮
照耀岁月年华
和人们公正的品评
秋日的雨被冷风吹落
你裹紧身子，匆匆地穿过车流不息的雨雾
那高层楼中的家
在灰蒙蒙的雨水中伫立于你的背后
生活虽然已经拧得很紧
但在疏忽的命运中依旧有水不断滴漏
于是，那些无法说清的结局
反复将人折磨
也许因为这些
在最初的日子里有人把你回避
在那把撑开的雨伞下
他深深理解那位老人的诗句
金属的骨架上流动着上帝的仁慈
一个人不同于另一个人
伞遮住雨水的同时还遮住了什么
光线暗淡
过于熟悉的一切让人深感痛楚
梦中你辗转反侧
于是，在午夜的梦境之外
常常听到厨房里均匀的滴水声
The Sound of Dripping
The steady sound of dripping in the kitchen
And you are struck mercilessly
Outside the midnight dream
The girl who went astray in the grey streets
Pierced the time of street-end greens and vanished
flowing water
And is no longer young
But one man's inner lustre can illuminate her
Lighting up the years
And others' impartial judgement
You wrap up well and hurry through the mist
Of autumn rain blown down by cold wind
And its ceaseless traffic
And the family in the skyscraper
Stands still behind your back in the murky rain
Life may pinch now
But water still drips ceaselessly through interstices of fate
And the ineffable conclusions
Keep up their torment
Which is perhaps why
People avoided you in the first days
And he understood under the open umbrella
The truth in the line in the old man's poem
That the grace of God flows on to a metal skeleton
People differ
What did the umbrella keep off besides the rain
A dim ray of light
Through all that is familiar produces profound anguish
And you toss and turn as you dream
And then you often hear outside the midnight dream
The steady sound of dripping in the kitchen
是春天，也不是春天 她美好，是否也残酷 曾是那样的遥远 田野在一片薄雾中，春天 在它力所能及的地方促根茎风长 我寂静又突然地走近你 爱恋得既具体又神奇 你悄然转身将春天的花束堆满怀抱 是春天，也不是春天 和暖的风吹透整座树林 绿色的火焰闪动金黄的渴望 星星点点、星星点点 织情感的网 而我只想对你说，这季节对于我们 是春天，也不是春天 It Is Spring And It Is Not Spring it is and it is not She is nice, but cruel as well Ever far away Covered in the mist were the fields Spring reaches as far as it can To promote the roots growing I approach you quietly without your awareness Love goes on concretely but mysteriously Smoothly you turn around Spring flowers to embrace into your breast Spring it is and it is not Warm breeze sweeps through the woods Golden desire flashes in green flames Sparks and glitters, sparks and glitters to weave the net of feelings Spring it is and it is not The season is such for us This is what I want to tell you