這些看得見的

這些看得見的，不能承受那看不見的。
房屋，樹，城池，雖然經過了千年，又換了新樣式，
卻是終有一天要朽壞。
現在我吃的食物，我喝的汁液，
連同我這身體，它又吃又喝，
這些都屬於看得見的，所以終有一天要朽壞。

THESE VISIBLE THINGS

The visible cannot bear the invisible.
Trees, houses, cities,
be they thousands of years old,
be they a million new faces,
one day they’ll all rot.
The food I eat this moment, the juice in this glass,
my eating, drinking flesh
belong to the visible
becoming invisible.

trans. © Diana Shi & George O’Connell

根在行走

焦渴的大地上新葉代替根在行走，
春天的花籽一而再地
告別痛苦的巢穴；
你為什麼還要嗜睡？瞌睡的眼睫毛
既不能將你保護又不能將苦惱的肉體提升。
物質與愛像波瀾，保持著牽連。
但你，也要伸出手，讓腳停留在起點
這時逃生的螞蟻一片混亂。
出生和死亡迅速交換完衣服
冰冷的水池邊相互清洗的人們還在休眠
而你的母親已衰老父親再也不會醒來。

ROOT WALKS

On parched earth new leaves are walking in place of roots.
Spring flower seeds once more
leave their painful nests.
Why crave sleep? Closing lashes
won’t save you, nor rouse the burdened flesh.
Love and matter are waves bound together.
Stretch your hand out but stand still.
Panicked ants are fleeing.
Birth and death switch coats.
Beside a cool pond, people wash each other, taking their ease.
Your mother’s old, your father will never awaken.

trans. © Diana Shi & George O’Connell

兩岸

我是昨夜虛弱的路燈舉起的那個人，
我是粗暴的風向推到晚秋山坡的那個人，
我是撞擊多次的無力的暗礁。
倘若你是撇開光明的政治從灌木叢裏拐來，
我希望自己是一條河的兩岸。

所有無根的萍草在河邊集聚，用數量玩著公正的遊戲，
而質量不會過多地成為它們答案的焦點。
倘若你是用沒有受到傳統恩寵的人性的棋子
把我的平等提升到異鄉土壤，
我希望自己是一條河，蟄居在我自己身體的兩岸。

BOTH BANKS

That was me last night in the faint light of the streetlamp,
me carried by the storm to the autumn slope of the mountain,
me the hidden reef washed over and over.
If you’re politics dragging darkness from the underbrush,
I’d rather be both banks of a river.

Rootless duckweed collects by the waterside,
playing out the justice of numbers,
hardly ever a question of quality.
If your chess game’s humane, something new,
then bring me the fairness of foreign lands.
I’d rather be a river, hidden in the banks of my body.

trans. © Diana Shi & George O’Connell

創世紀

讓我先說說1吧，這是多美的第一天。
我不得不把1當作一個音節，
凡歌裏有1的，這歌就不是孤獨的。

當我說到2，我們就開始含笑，
因為有了愛情，就有了指望，
特別那愛情，是我們骨中的骨，肉中的肉。

3是眾人，地土，是大多數，
這麼多的兒女，果園，和香柏樹，我愛他們，
但是沒有感到心滿意足。

GENESIS

Let me start with 1, a fine day.
I take it as the rhythm
in which a single song can’t be alone.

When I say 2, we smile together
as love arrives, with longing.
Love as the bone of our bone, flesh of our flesh.

3 is all the rest, earth and soil, the greater part,
so many sons, daughters, orchards and fragrant cypress, though I love it
I still am not content.

trans. © Diana Shi & George O’Connell

合唱

淺水裏的魚在唱歌，
啊黑夜是什麼顏色？

深水裏的魚在唱歌，
啊眼睛能做什麼？

光明裏的人在唱歌，
啊黑夜是什麼顏色？

黑夜裏的人在唱歌，
啊眼睛能做什麼？

CHORUS

From the shallow lake, fish are singing
Oh what is night’s true color?

From the depths of the sea, fish are singing
Oh what use are eyes?

In sunlight, human voices chanting
Oh what is night’s true color?

In darkness, human mouths are chanting
Oh what use are eyes?

trans. © Diana Shi & George O’Connell

我在

回家的路上，你發現
一塊塊石子「骨碌、骨碌」，
說：我在。

你抬頭，山尖在高處
和在低處的一樣，
用它遍山的整體說：我在。

樹木,田地，
都活在「我在」的韻律中。

風把一處的「我在」
傳到另一處，什麼也不隱蔽，
每一處都沒有忽略。

I AM

On the way home,
you see stones rolling,
saying “I am”.

You look up—
the entire mountain says “I am”
with its peaks
high and low.

Trees and fields
live in a melody
of “I am”.

The wind takes “I am”
from here to there,
hiding nothing,
forgetting nothing.

trans. © Diana Shi & George O’Connell

我習慣於

我習慣於在夜裏生活，我只能抓住感覺的懷裏
生長出來的睡眠的物質。
我不斷將目光由悲傷處轉向自己，
我發現我身體的左側明亮，右側陰暗。
那痛覺在中間等著——
但願那隱退的激情在出生之前被夜吸乾。

I GET USED TO

I get used to living by night,
grasping only what sleeps,
what grows from the breasts of feeling.
My gaze shifts from sadness to my own body,
finding light on the left side,
darkness on the right.
Pain lies between.
Whatever passion’s left
I hope night will suck dry
before it can be born.

trans. © Diana Shi & George O’Connell

喜悅

喜悅漫過我的雙肩，我的雙肩就動了一下。

喜悅漫過我的頸項，我的腰，它們像兩姐妹
將相向的目標變為舞步。

喜悅漫過我的手臂，它們動得如此輕盈。
喜悅漫過我的腿，我的膝，我這裏有傷啊，
但是現在被醫治。

喜悅漫過我的腳尖，腳背，腳後跟，它們克制著，
不蹦，也不跳，只是微微親近了一下左邊，
又親近了一下右邊。

這時，喜悅又回過頭來，從頭到腳，

喜悅像霓虹燈，把我變成藍色，紫色，朱紅色。

JOY

Joy floods my shoulders, and they shiver.

Joy floods my neck, my waist, that join
like sisters in one dance.

Joy floods my arms, and they rise in grace.
Joy floods my legs, my knees,
healing their pain.

Joy floods my toes, insteps, heels
which manage not to skip nor jump
but only touch each other.

Then joy floods back, head to foot;

joy, like neon, turns me blue, purple, vermilion.

trans. © Diana Shi & George O’Connell

如果鞋子不感到悲傷

啟程的時候你要為狗選好雪橇，為腳選好鞋子。
你要用自己身上的餘溫取暖，用自己的眼睫毛
擋住如水泛濫的棄物的灰塵。
一連串的嫩葉你譜不譜曲它都是要緊的食物。
不管到哪兒你都要把它作為信號傳達給鄰居：

我的鄰居是富裕的。
他們用歡樂給含混的夜做一條美麗的尾巴，
用技術的經濟學在陽臺圍一間魚居住的房子：
整個冬天我只看見他們的影子一次。

啟程的時候你要放棄大的路線，
只確立一雙不太像別人的你自己的鞋子，
並給它嫩葉的外形。
現在我是唯一赤腳送你的人，如果鞋子不感到悲傷。
如果我還沒有為自己的腳選好鞋子。

IF SHOES FEEL NO SORROW

Before you set out,
ready a sled for the dogs,
and for yourself
a good pair of shoes.
Your own heat will keep you warm,
your eyelashes screen the flooding dust
of everything abandoned.
Whether you sing of them or not,
green leaves are good rations,
and everywhere a sign
you may wave to neighbors.

My neighbors are rich,
their murky nights ending in pleasure.
Technology and money, their balcony
an aquarium. The whole winter
I only once saw their shadows.

Setting out, forget the main roads.
Shape your own shoes
like delicate leaves
resembling no others.
If shoes feel no sorrow
and I’ve not yet found my own,
I alone will come barefoot
to see you off.

trans. © Diana Shi & George O’Connell

我把信系在風的脖頸

一天早晨，我背靠落枝
寫一封私人信件：你好，沙漠之子
你好，親愛的魚鰭

到了中午，我把信封好
系在風的脖頸。我寧願相信風
也不願相信信鴿，信鴿總是
相似的，成群的

風獨來獨往，可並不完美
每當它路過或只是到達，它總會說
哦，我來了

你好，草根
你好，失業的中年女人

我的房間是一把斷腿的木椅
我只能站著，即使在黑夜

我住的城市則是一些拼湊起來的
複制品。我看到的實情是：
人人都在鬧饑荒，人人都做出
飽餐饜足大腹便便的樣子

當我從夜裏醒來，我像一支鋼筆
浸泡在夜的濃墨裏——

僅僅寫信，就要繞許多圈子
我必須繞過被老鼠咬壞的
信封，潮濕的郵票，
和極易寫錯的漢字

我已經注意到，一封沒有錯別字的信
並不能使一個地址
更悠閑，或更健康

I TIE LETTERS TO THE WIND’S NECK

One morning, my back against fallen branches
I write: hello, son of the desert,
hello, dear fish fin.

At noon I seal the letter,
tie it to the wind’s neck. I trust wind
more than homing-pigeons,
their flocks all alike.

Wind’s alone, though not perfect.
Coming or going, it says only
Ah, I’m here.

Hello, grass root.
Hello, middle-aged woman out of work.

My room is a wooden chair with broken legs.
I stand, even at night.

My city’s pieced together from copies.
The truth is
everyone’s starving, yet all
walk around with pot bellies,
pretending they’re well-fed.

When I wake in the dark
I’m a pen dipped in night’s thick ink.

Writing a letter, I have to get past many difficulties:
mouse-gnawed envelopes,
damp stamps,
words I easily miswrite.

I’ve noticed: a letter, even without mistakes or misspellings,
can’t easily or safely
compose its own address.

trans. © Diana Shi & George O’Connell

黑夜的一隻手

黑夜的一隻手在夜的樓梯上攀援。
只要一小會兒，你就可順著門鎖找到我的呼吸。
痛苦的盲人，是你先摸到了我的椅背；
像一枚細針，你穿過我生命的核

並將它縫進死亡幻覺裏對身體的敬意。
你提著盲人的聲名肢解我在罪中的完整，
眼睛裏抽出了瞳仁，喉嚨裏舍去了舌頭，
這時我像某種死去的事物突然長出新的皮質。

NIGHT’S DARK HAND

With one hand, dark night mounts
the steps. Through the keyhole
you soon hear my breath. Tortured
with blindness, you feel the back
of my chair; like a fine needle,
you pierce the core of my life

and stitch it
into reverence for the body
felt by hallucinated death.
In the name of the blind, you rend apart
my whole sinful being—eyes plucked, tongue silenced.
As if slain but reborn
I grow new skin.

trans. © Diana Shi & George O’Connell

有一天這一切全都會消失

有一天這一切全都會消失。
腳不必再穿鞋子，

從母腹裏生出，到七十，或八十歲，
給我們帶來愁煩的不過是時間，
它這麼無情，這麼慢，
直到使一棵嫩草發芽，生長，變枯乾。

有一天時間也會消失。
當我們繼續活下去，
當腳變為翅膀，床變為另外的一種形式。

ALL THIS WILL DISAPPEAR

All this will disappear some day
when feet need no more shoes.

From mother’s womb to eighty
what troubles us is time:
so slow,
so heartless,
the sprout, the bloom, the withering.

The day will come when time must vanish too,
when we live on,
when feet grow wings,
when the bed gives up its shape.

trans. © Diana Shi & George O’Connell

召喚

我在早晨的沙礫上勞作。
黃顏色的鳥兒在清涼的枝上把你召喚。
大地敞開了：我看見天空，堤岸，和尖銳的冬天。
但是在彼和此之間，有的是海浪和帆船。
但願有一座城市能夠舍棄聲名，
將愛的榮耀留在教堂的尖頂；
但願有一部作品發現你是誰；
但願有一隻黃顏色的鳥兒在那兒，把你召喚。

SUMMONS

I labor on the morning sand.
From a cool green branch the yellow bird summons you.
The landscape opens: sky, shore, the sharp taste of winter.

Between here and there, waves and sailboats.
A city may surrender reputation,
hang love’s glories on the steeple;
may your work discover who you are,
may a yellow bird be there to summon you.

trans. © Diana Shi & George O’Connell