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