悼亡

木架上的書再少一本
留下手的幻覺
下午的陰影潛入
發亮的時間
餘光中，塵埃靜靜吸收了
微細的虛隙

客廳沿軸旋轉
窗外景深游移
安樂椅的長背漸次靠後
木料朽壞的聲音
在聽覺的餘末上浮游

房頂小瓦
啃囓著藍光流蕩的傍晚
色盲的貓伏在簷脊上
即將遠行的靈魂
也伏在簷脊上

大提琴弦線的末端
影子漸漸變淡
風從一個方向
將他釋放

MOURNING

On the wooden shelf, one book less.
The hand, forgetful, lingers
at the glow of afternoon
as the shades close in.
From each crevice, silent dust
blots up what light is left.

The living room turns on its axis.
Beyond the window, a shift in depth of field.
The long spine of the armchair eases back,
the creak of its ancient frame
adrift on failing ears.

Overhead, at the blue pool of evening,
the rooftiles’ teeth. On their ridge
a crouching, colorblind cat,
and one soul
perched for its long journey.

The shadows rise
with a cello’s falling notes,
and from its own source,
wind sets loose the spirit.

trans. © Diana Shi & George O’Connell

白瓷花碗

視覺的古鍵鈴，透光的空心月
未見的縫璺隱隱含吐破裂的浪聲
指頭點渡，薄甲輕敲
碎與未碎之間
風中小瓦的飲泣

我的心為你本來的完整
耿耿陷落於得失
隱藏的驚懼溢滴如簷雨
一滴，一滴，又一滴
掌心為你漸漸降溫的乳色無故發熱
顫抖的雙腕將你齊眉舉起
好像只有大光的純粹
才托得住你短暫的行程
真的，誰忍心你貞亮的弧岸
受煙，沾油，與一堆熟米爛粥黏黏糊糊
誰忍心你被造，又淪亡

聽覺的潤物雨，月鍍的鐮刀霜
未見的遺忘慢慢磨削深刻的鍾愛
山何委頓，地竟忘情
造與未造之間
泥上大手的遲疑

WHITE PORCELAIN FLOWER BOWL

To the eye, an ancient bell. Translucent hollow moon.
Microscopic fault may breathe a wave of cracks.
Merely a touch, the tap of thin fingernails.
From whole to broken,
the faint sigh of a rooftile in the wind.

I take this frailty to heart,
the fear of gain or loss,
the trembling of rainbeads at an eave,
one drop, another,
my palms damp while your milky color cools.
I raise you in respect,
as if pure light might suspend you.
Created, but made for ruin,
the chaste arc of your rim
suffering smoke, oil stains, crusts of rice or meal.

Soft rain nourishes the ear. Moon-silvered sickle of frost.
Unseen oblivion hones its affection.
How spent the mountains, how forgotten the ardors of earth.
Create or not create—
in this clay, the great hand hesitates.

trans. © Diana Shi & George O’Connell

微息

喝了酒，靜下來，讓你刮鬍子的聲音
一下一下，滲入又溢出耳朵的堤岸
鏡子儲滿燈光，暖而且黃
和你靠近，又輕輕分開

我坐下，信任著夜的這一個角落
用項背的肌膚感覺你，感覺距離的伸縮
你的手指，正落在那一件家具上？
我聽見你的指紋，一圈又一圈
像無聲的漪輪
擴入深霄水邊的蘆葦，生活的種種微息

窗外的葉子
終於脫下一點重量

FINE SUBTLE BREATHING

A sip of wine, then peace. The swish of your razor
laps my ears and overflows their shore.
The mirror pours out warm, yellow lamplight.
I step from you

and sit, relaxing in this corner of the night,
still at the nape of my neck
your presence, the space supple between us.
Whatever furniture you touch
I sense your fingerprints, one whorl and another,
like silent ripples
reaching past misty water
to the reeds, their soft breath of life.

Outside, the leaves
cast off their weight.

trans. © Diana Shi & George O’Connell

吃過晚飯

吃過晚飯，你們用油膩未清的碗喝茶
茶在飯屑中間蕩起緩慢的水弧
像一段婚姻的中游水
漫不過沙岸日積月累的安全肘
拔不去蘆葦長相廝守的水下根

我們往來此地，一個用眼睛
一個用眼睛以外的眼睛
直到夜的侵蝕完全

晚飯過後就是寧靜
讓沉默說話，讓睡眠說話
讓白日高熱的鎢絲烘暖濕涼的夜色
用過去的餘燼探照明天的晴雨
說過去是否可以稱之為選擇
說將來會不會依然選擇過去

晚飯之後亮起了燈
疲勞的臨照延續到吃喝以外
吃飯的人，一直飽足到深夜

AFTER DINNER

After dinner, you pour tea in your small rice bowl,
tea leaves swirling among the specks,
like the stream of a marriage midcourse,
too sure to crest its sand-layered banks,
too slow to loosen its deep-rooted reeds.

We’ve been here, been there, our eyes
seeing what’s to see, what’s not
before night’s curtain.

After dinner, serenity
till silence speaks, till sleep.
Let this tungsten, its filament white as sunlight,
warm the damp, cool shades of night.
Let the embers of the past reveal tomorrow’s skies.
Talk of the past as if chosen.
Talk of the future as if past.

After dinner, light the lamp.
The weary day reclines beyond its food, its drink.
Those who eat stay full till midnight.

trans. © Diana Shi & George O’Connell

活結

白色小圓桌
黑色小杯
咖啡的甘甜和苦澀
難以記憶的調羹和話語
枯葉蝶和枯葉，終年隨風滑脫
相敘，春天，小小的活結
美麗，一拉就碎落

SLIPKNOT

Small round table, white.
Black cups.
Coffee’s bittersweet savor.
Memory blurs both spoons and words.
Dead-leaf butterflies, dead leaves,
drift all year. We meet in spring,
one pull
tugging beauty loose.

trans. © Diana Shi & George O’Connell

我們又落入薄色的街

我們又落入薄色的街。
疲倦的眼睛漫過店鋪，
一面看見，一面忘記。
彎角逐一移來，
認得的和不認得的，
白色帶油的煙、餃子和豆奶，
理髮的，抓藥的，賣老花眼鏡的男人……
一些碗碟翻動，午後的日光輕輕發著黃。
樹木舉起塵鋪的葉子，灰色的火。
葉子舉起塵鋪的陽臺，灰色的爐。
晾衣竹上，舊衣褲踴躍。
女人掛在窗臺，
如一根掃帚。
嬰兒車的輪子旋轉出
尖小的哭叫，
年輕人染了金頭髮
從傘蓬下爬出來。
誰，約定了誰，
在醒來的片刻不說話？
被搜身的偷渡者，
都在耽耽虎視裏滑過
敵意的關口。
收音機的嘮叨變老了，
廣播延續，像黃昏時分
閃動光末的小雨。
我們站著，動也不動，
任長街流淌而過，
洗擦著足踝
和足踝

注：詩的最後一句，靈感來自梁秉鈞的 〈樓梯街〉。

AGAIN WE ENTER THE DIM STREET

Again we enter the dim street,
our tired eyes sweeping past each shop,
forgetting as we look.
Corner after corner,
known or not,
oiled white steam, clink of dishes,
dumplings, soy milk, barbers,
sellers of Chinese medicine, eyeglasses.
In late light flooding gold,
trees lift their dirty leaves, grey flames
lofting a sooty balcony.
A line of clothes asway on long bamboo,
a broom-thin woman leaning at a sill.
A baby stroller’s wheels
squeal and spin.
A teen, hair dyed yellow,
steps from an umbrella’s shade.
The nagging radio’s ancient voice
yatters on, words like dustmotes
glittering at sunset.
We stop a moment,
letting the long street run by,
its flow of ankles
rinsing ours.

trans. © Diana Shi & George O’Connell

Note: The last line of this poem was inspired by Leung Ping-kwan’s “Ladder Street”.

一碗熱麵
——給偉成

冷風中一碗熱麵
你雙手輕輕推過來
連同煙縷之間沒法聽清楚的話
眼鏡模糊了，麵條在筷子的縫隙間
冒香、彈跳、抖動、輕輕下滑
我趕快把它們塞進嘴裏。火燙燙的胸口
給點著了，一片通明
外面的小雨撒遍夜空，忽然
一點一點全都吐著亮光

A Bowl of Hot Noodles

for Wai-shing

In chilly wind, a bowl of hot noodles.
With both hands, you edge it towards me,
your words adrift in steam.
My glasses fog. Between the tips of my chopsticks,
the noodles’ fragrant, trembling dance.
I slide them in. My chest kindles
as if firelit. Outside, night drizzles on,
one droplet and another
bearing light.

trans. © Diana Shi & George O’Connell

對窗習字

桌前坐下
想念那片窗
液光柔雨，來去都那麼單薄
零碎的黃葉慢慢滑出風的大弧
破爛的簷瓦互相切入
瓦坑上，幻青的苔蘚向東流滲
嬰孩毛髮一樣幼微的小草
癢癢地搔著季節的腋窩
下面是母雞和許多的小雞
吱吱咯咯，鄰居木屐
得得敲響井旁的長石板

我常常看著雨水
在拱起的圓瓦上騰跳、滑脫
春天好像永遠乾不起來
餘下的小片天空
也一點一滴給浸濕
溶溶軟爛，像紙要破

我坐在枯舊的小木桌前習字，發呆
溫暖的墨煙味
和飄忽的白蘭花香
把風景都染成黑白了
餘下的光慢慢褪落
綠暗了，褐重了，赭紅灰淡
深淺交蝕的疊影
再分不出真幻

鍵盤下著密密的秋雨
窗台上，依然活著一點光
一閃而過的窗景碎塊
夾雜著童年和童年的等待
那時我竟對窗難過
以為討厭的習字功課
一定永遠寫不完

WRITTEN BY THE WINDOW

At my desk I remember
looking through another:
fluid light, now and then soft rain,
yellow leaves strewn along the wind’s arc.
Between the lapping, broken rooftiles,
a green and eastward creep of moss,
grassblades tender as infant’s hair
tickling autumn’s armpit.
Below, the hen jabbering
with her chicks. On the long slate beside the well,
a neighbor’s clogs,
their wooden clatter.

I’d watch rainwater slide
leaping from the roof.
Spring was never dry.
The one clear patch of sky
surrounded bit by bit, sodden
as a paper sack before bursting.

I’d sit at my old desk, practicing characters,
mind adrift. The scent of warm ink,
the waft of magnolias,
dyed the landscape black and white.
As light drained,
greens deepened, browns grew heavy, ochres thinned.
Shadows melded dark and light, swallowing
till the real fled the unreal.

Now beside my keyboard,
dense November rain.
On the windowsill, a feather of light.
Beyond the glass, broken visions
laced with childhood’s wish.
How sad it seemed,
bound to my lessons,
thinking they would never end.

trans. © Diana Shi & George O’Connell

聚散

寂靜的下午總有奇異的微響
樹葉枯乾，茶水流動，杯碟輕輕碰擊
一些空間形成，改變著形狀
一些逝去的人和事
被提起

然後有人站起來
去工作或看書
或把門輕輕帶上

風吹動薄薄的帘子
窗外，季節和樹木的顏色
遷移

Meeting, Parting

On a tranquil afternoon, small sounds
of dry leaves, flowing tea, cups lightly touched.
Spaces form, and change each other’s shape.
Something mentioned from the past,
a name.

Someone stands
returning to the page, the work.
Softly the door closes.

Breeze moves a thin curtain.
Beyond the window, the season’s trees
shift color.

trans. © Diana Shi & George O’Connell

夕航

藍調漸深的大海上
有那麼一塊甲板，暖暖的
黃昏了，還不斷釋出下午的陽光
不斷地打開，打開，再打開
如同一片永久航行的陸地
我停下，伸開雙手，以鐮狀的白帆
收割金黃的稻粒和紫紅的葡萄
天空滾燙流動如滔滔的大水
我知道自己仍在前進
且必進入星羣臨照的港灣，在那裏
我要攤開懷中的海圖，倚燈細讀
看哪些是你帶血的字諭，哪些是我執迷的塗改
然後讓你親手縫合，我航道上面最深最深的水痕

TWILIGHT VOYAGE

Blue notes deepen on the sea.
The deck still holds
the day’s sunlight
as dusk unfurls
its endless coast.
I stretch my arms, the sickle of the sail
reaping golden rice, dark grapes.
The sky boils and surges like a tide.
I steer for that star-clustered harbor,
my mariner’s chart within me,
well-lit and studied close,
its legend amended but writ in blood,
my wake, dissolving on the deep,
restitched by your own hands.

trans. © Diana Shi & George O’Connell