潛水艇的悲傷

九點上班時
我准備好咖啡和筆墨
再探頭看看遠處打來
第幾個風球
有用或無用時
我的潛水艇都在值班
鉛灰的身體
躲在風平的淺水塘

開頭我想這樣寫：
如今戰爭已不太來到
如今詛咒    也換了方式
當我監聽    能聽見
碎銀子嘩嘩流動的聲音

鮮紅的海鮮    仍使我傾心
艱難世事中    它愈發通紅
我們吃它    掌握信息的手在穿梭
當我開始寫    我看見
可愛的魚    包圍了造船廠

國有企業的爛帳    以及
鄰國經濟的蕭瑟    還有
小姐們趨時的妝容
這些不穩定的收據    包圍了
我的淺水塘

於是我這樣寫道：
還是看看
我的潛水艇    最新在何處下水
在誰的血管裏泊靠
追星族，酷族，迪廳的重金屬
分析了寫作的潛望鏡

酒精，營養，高熱量
好像介詞，代詞，感歎詞
鎖住我的皮膚成分
潛水艇    它要一直潛到海底
緊急    但又無用地下潛
再沒有一個口令可以支使它

從前我寫過    現在還這樣寫：
都如此不適宜了
你還在造你的潛水艇
它是戰爭的紀念碑
它是戰爭的墳墓    它將長眠海底
但它又是離我們越來越遠的
適宜幽閉的心境

正如你所看到的：
現在    我已造好潛水艇
可是    水在哪兒
水在世界上拍打
現在    我必須造水
為每一件事物的悲傷
製造它不可多得的完美

SAD SUBMARINE

Nine AM. At the office.
Coffee. Pen and ink.
Check the weather outside.
My sub and I, useful or not,
must be on watch, its lead gray hull
afloat in the still harbor. At first

I wanted to say
now that war’s less likely
and curses grown mild,
but when I listen close
I hear the clink of silver.

I crave scarlet seafood,
how in hard times its redness glows.
Hands that master information
busily stuff our maws.
When I started writing this, I saw
lovely fish besieging the shipyard,

the jumbled ledgers of state-owned firms,
the flat economies of neighboring states,
hookers’ painted faces.
Fake receipts
circle the shallows.

So I write instead
better go check the sub
before it enters deep water, and wonder
whose bloodvessel will shelter it.
Pop star fans, hippies, disco heavy metal,
periscopes that filter words.

Alcohol, nutrition, high calories—
prepositions, pronouns, interjections
fix the texture of my skin.
The sub must plunge
beyond control
to the bottom of the sea.

I said once already:
you build your own submarine,
war’s monument,
a tomb that will slumber
forever at the bottom of the sea
in service to solitary and remote moods.

As you see, assembly’s finished.
But where’s the water,
and which shore does it lap?
Now to build my own ocean
from each thing’s
impeccable sadness.

trans. © Diana Shi & George O’Connell

玩偶

當我厭倦了黑夜
常常從夢裏坐起    開口說話
小小的玩偶閃著褐光
我說話    帶著一種不真切的口吻
我說著一直想說的胡言亂語

像靜物    也像黑暗中的燈泡
面目醜陋的玩偶不慌不忙
無法識別它內心的狂野
當我擰亮臺燈    夢在紙上燃燒
我的夢多麼心酸    思念我兒時的玩伴
躺在我手上，一針又一針
我縫著它的面孔和笑容

夢見未來的一夜    它開口說話
來到我的床邊
白色的床    分開陰陽兩界
白色的蚊帳 是這玩偶的衣裳

這玩偶的眼睛
比萬物安寧
這玩偶的夢
飄向我的世界
我的夢多麼心酸
夜夜夢見你站在床前
你的手像一把剪刀
時時要把我傷害？

DOLL

When I’m sick of black night
I sit up from dreaming, open my mouth to speak.
The little doll glitters in brown light,
and I speak in a voice not my own,
muttering the nonsense I’ve always wanted to say.

Like a still life, like a dark lightbulb
the ugly doll’s unhurried,
can’t guess its wild heart.
When I twist the lamp switch, dreams ignite the paper,
sad dreams of childhood playmates.
Lying in my hand, one stitch and another
sews its face on, its smile.

I dream of the night when it opens its mouth to speak
and comes to my bed,
the white bed dividing life from death,
draped in the white mosquito net.

The doll’s eyes
utterly serene,
its doll dream
drifting toward my world;
how bitter my own dreams, seeing you
every night standing at my bedside,
your hands like scissors
whenever you want to hurt me.

trans. © Diana Shi & George O’Connell

母親

無力到達的地方太多了，腳在疼痛，母親，妳沒有
教會我在貪婪的朝霞中染上古老的哀愁。我的心只像妳，

妳是我的母親，我甚至是妳的血液在黎明流出的
血泊中使妳驚訝地看到妳自己，妳使我醒來

聽到這世界的聲音，妳讓我生下來，妳讓我與不幸構成
這世界的可怕的雙胞胎。多年來，我已記不得今夜的哭聲

那使妳受孕的光芒，來得多麼遙遠，多麼可疑，站在生與死
之間，妳的眼睛擁有黑暗而進入腳底的陰影何等沉重

在妳懷抱之中，我曾露出謎底似的笑容，有誰知道
妳讓我以童貞方式領悟一切，但我卻無動於衷

我把這世界當作處女，難道我對著妳發出的
爽朗的笑聲沒有燃燒起足夠的夏季嗎？沒有？

我被遺棄在世上，只身一人，太陽的光線悲哀地
籠罩著我，當妳俯身世界時是否知道妳遺落了什麼？

歲月把我放在磨子裏，讓我親眼看著自己被碾碎
呵，母親，當我終於變得沉默，妳是否為之欣喜

沒有人知道我是怎樣不著邊際地愛妳，這秘密
來自妳的一部分，我的眼睛像兩個傷口痛苦地望著妳

活著為了活著，我自取滅亡，以對抗亙古已久的愛
一塊石頭被拋棄，直到像骨髓一樣風乾，這世界

有了孤兒，使一切祝福暴露無遺，然而誰最清楚
凡在母親手上站過的人，終會因誕生而死去

MOTHER

So many places one cannot reach, my feet ache, Mother. In the ravenous dawn
you never taught me how to be tinged with ancient sorrows.

My heart your heart, my blood yours, the pool
at sunrise where you find your own face, amazed.

You woke me to the noise of the world,
gave me birth, twin

to the world’s misfortune.
So many years I couldn’t recall this night’s sobbing,

that ray of light which made you pregnant so far off, its beam uncertain
between life and death, your eyes owning the darkness.

How heavy the shadows that pass through our soles,
my smile in your arms an enigma.

Who knows how you led me through everything in innocence;
untouched, I still take the world as virginal.

Didn’t my bright laughter
set summer afire?

Deserted in this world, entirely alone, enfolded
in sad sunlight, when I bent over the world

did I know what I had left?  Time ground me in its mill
until I saw myself as dust.

Oh mother, when at last I’ve grown silent
will you rejoice?  My love unspoken,

some part of you bears this secret, my eyes
open wounds, staring through your pain.

Living for the sake of life, I court my own devastation
against primal love, one stone cast aside,

drying like marrow in the wind.
The orphans of this world

utterly reveal all blessings,
but who knows best

how any raised by mother’s hands
will die at last from birth.

trans. © Diana Shi & George O’Connell

退潮

有一個黃昏我披襟向南山
坐於山腳    看看：
整個湖水變成迷藥
銳化了我的意識

過去、現在和將來
都有人感受到無名的痛楚
漂浮在體內    像剛烘熱的雞蛋
緩緩凸起 又在盤中下沉
那一堆養料在體內循環

過去、現在和將來
它都存在：被叫作「意識」的東西
雖然它一變再變
雖然它在晨曦中高漲
漫過五髒六腑
在暮色下退去    變成時間的膽固醇

血液、唾液和植物汁液
所有來自自然的食物和物質
都給身體的能量中心加持
化掉因急躁而結成的頑石

看看：夕陽因你的失眠
而變重變沉
已經提早落下
胸中塊磊也被落日的鐵鏽溶掉
星辰的冷光    仍在銳化我的意識

現在去舞踏    一種功夫可以治愈
運動神經的騷亂

EBB TIDE

This evening, facing the south mountain,
I sit at its foot, coat open,
the whole lake a sorcerer’s potion
quickening the mind.

Yesterday, today, tomorrow
someone tastes the nameless pain
coursing through the body, an egg
bulged on the plate, shrinking as one eats,
a slug of nourishment pulsing in the flesh.

Yesterday, today, tomorrow
it remains: call it consciousness,
however it shifts form,
rising at first light,
flooding our organs,
sinking at blue dusk,
time’s cholesterol.

Blood, saliva, sap of plants,
all that nature feeds
to bless the body’s core,
shattering the stones of impatience.

See how the falling sun, grown fat
on your insomnia,
sets so early. Yet its rusty light
dissolves the gloom within my chest.
Cold starlight sharpens thought.

Go and dance the art that quells
the tumult of the nerves.

trans. © Diana Shi & George O’Connell

給我愛情，我就愛他

很多的病    很多的醉裏
我選擇它
美麗的毒    看看你
就要給我臨終的輝煌

有些人    非得要把酒
酹向西面八方
有些人    集中為入喉的一口
他們都心曠神怡
他們都享受

美麗的毒    就是你的醉意
達不到的地方
就是你無論如何幫助自己
也需要別人的地方
就是你拼命治療
也會讓你痛一痛的地方

它就是一步一回首的危險
它就是靈魂纏繞的酷刑
它就是我們盡情地煎
充分地抹上蜜糖
最後一口吞掉    瀉完的甜點

給我愛情    我就愛他
猶如給我花    我就香
給我夏天    我就明亮

去動人    或去瘋癲吧
去灌溉    或去死吧
它們都是望天收

GIVE ME LOVE, I’LL LOVE HIM

Much sickness in much drink.
I choose it.
Pretty poison. Looking at you,
who’ll offer my last glory?

Some insist on making
libations everywhere.
Some just taste the mouthfuls
sliding down—relaxed, happy.

Pretty poison means the place
drink can’t take you.
No matter how you hope,
you still need others.
Even if you try to heal yourself
you hurt.

That’s the danger walking backward step by step,
excruciation haunting your soul.
That’s honey we fry in joy,
slathering our lips,
last taste of lost dessert.

Give me love, I’ll love him.
Give me flowers, I’ll smell sweet.
Give me summer, I’ll shine.

Go charmingly, go mad.
Go irrigate, go die.
Stare at the sky for a harvest.

trans. © Diana Shi & George O’Connell

在古代

在古代，我只能這樣
給你寫信    並不知道
我們下一次
會在哪裏見面

現在    我往你的郵箱
灌滿了群星    它們都是五筆字形
它們站起來    為你奔跑
它們停泊在天上的某處
我並不關心

在古代    青山嚴格地存在
當綠水醉倒在他的腳下
我們只不過抱一抱拳    彼此
就知道後會有期

現在，你在天上飛來飛去
群星滿天跑    碰到你就像碰到疼處
它們像無數的補丁    去堵截
一個藍色屏幕     它們並不歇斯底里

在古代    人們要寫多少首詩？
才能變成嶗山道士    穿過牆
穿過空氣    再穿過一杯竹葉青
抓住你    更多的時候
他們頭破血流    倒地不起

現在    你正撥一個手機號碼
它發送上萬種味道
它灌入了某個人的體香
當某個部位顫抖    全世界都顫抖

在古代    我們並不這樣
我們只是並肩策馬    走幾十里地
當耳環玎璫作響    你微微一笑
低頭間    我們又走了幾十里地

IN ANCIENT DAYS

In ancient days, I’d only
write letters, not knowing
where we’d meet.

Now I flood your email,
my characters like stars
chasing after you.
I care little where they land.

In ancient days, mountains were green facts.
Blue water at our feet,
we’d simply clasp fists, keeping faith
we’d meet again.

Now you fly this place and that,
my small stars trailing through the sky,
reaching out as to a sore spot,
countless tries to patch
the blue screen, though not hysterical.

In ancient days, how many poems
to be a Lao Shan Taoist, to slip into
a cup of bamboo-leaf tea,
stride on air, pass through brick walls
and seize you. Or
beat one’s head bloody.

Now, you thumb a phone
that wafts ten thousand scents,
the fragrance of a distant body.
One part trembles and a whole world shakes.

Ancient days weren’t like this.
We spurred the horses then, side by side,
covering a few miles.
My earrings clinked, a grin showed on your face.
We kept ours heads down, and rode.

trans. © Diana Shi & George O’Connell

Lao Shan: Mt. Lao, near Qingdao on the Shandong coast of E. China, is one of the “cradles of Taoism”.

大夢如戲

大夢如戲
當光湧入黑暗
如散場時人們紛紛離席
意識從每一折絕望裏
栩栩地活過來

THE BIG DREAM’S A DRAMA

The big dream’s a drama
where light bursts onto darkness.
At the end of the performance,
the audience leaves their seats,
each furrow of despair
blooming into life.

trans. © Diana Shi & George O’Connell

謊言

我們的43塊肌肉
可以激起臉上的上萬種表情
每天，上千句話語中
有一百句謊言

這是我成年後讀到科學數據
每天，你是我的測謊儀

LIES

43 muscles cross our faces,
ten thousand moods.
Science, once I grew up, said so.

Each day’s thousand phrases
hide a hundred lies.
Each day, my lie detector,
you find mine.

trans. © Diana Shi & George O’Connell

生命

你要盡量保持平靜
一陣嘔吐似的情節
把它的弧形光懸在空中
而我一無所求

身體波瀾般起伏
彷彿抵抗整個世界的侵入
把它交給你
這樣富有危機的生命、不肯放松的生命
對每天的屠殺視而不見
可怕地從哪一顆星球移來？
液體在陸地放縱，不肯消失
什麼樣的氣流吸進了天空？
這樣膨脹的禮物，這麼小的宇宙
駐紮著陰沉的力量
一切正在消失，一切透明
但我最秘密的血液被公開
是誰威脅我？
比黑夜更有力地總結人們
在我身體內隱藏著的永恒之物？

熱烘烘的夜飛翔著淚珠
毫無人性的器皿使空氣變冷
死亡蓋著我
死亡也經不起貫穿一切的疼痛
但不要打攪那張毫無生氣的臉
又害怕，又著迷，而房間正在變黑
白晝曾是我身上的一部分，現在被取走
橙紅燈在我頭頂向我凝視
它正凝視這世上最恐怖的內容

LIFE

Try hard to stay calm,
a nauseating plotline
dangling its arc light in the sky.
I ask for nothing.

The body undulates in waves
as if holding back the world’s assault.
I turn it over to you,
this life full of crisis, this life that can’t let go,
that beholds but never sees the daily slaughter.
So terrible, from what planet does it come?
On dry land fluids run free, unwilling to vanish.
What kind of airflow is sucked into the sky?
Such a bloated gift, such a small universe
garrisoned by grave forces.
Everything’s vanishing, everything’s transparent
but my most secret blood’s made public.
Who threatens me?
Who tallies the undying things
others have hidden in my body,
mightier than dark night?

Tears wing through warm evenings,
pitiless vessels chilling air.
Death covers me.
Death can’t bear the pain that pierces all,
but don’t disturb that lifeless face,
so frightening, so enchanting, as the room darkens.
Daylight was part of me once, now snatched away.
Overhead the orange light glares down at me,
staring at the world’s most terrible element.

trans. © Diana Shi & George O’Connell

壁虎與我

你好！壁虎
你的虔誠刻在天花板上
你害人的眼睛在黑暗中流來流去
我的心靈多次顫栗
落在你的注視裏
不聲不響一動不動
你的沉默如此可怕
使我在古老房間裏奔來跑去

當我容光煥發時
我就要將你忘記
我的嘴裏含著烈性酒精香味
黑夜向我下垂
我的雙腿便邁得更美
我來到何處？與你相遇
你這怕人的溫馴的東西
當你盯著我我盯著你
我們的目光互相吸引
異邦的心靈
隔著一個未知的世界
我們永遠不能了解
各自的痛苦
你夢幻中的故鄉
怎樣成為我內心傷感的曠野
如今都雙重映照在牆壁陰影

我死了多久？與你相遇
當我站在這兒束手無策
最有力的手也敢伸出
與你相握那小小的爪子
比龐然大物更讓我恐懼
走吧壁虎的你

THE GECKO AND I

There you are,
faithful to the ceiling,
your eyes threatening even in the liquid dark.
How many times
my heart’s shuddered at your gaze,
soundless, still,
a silence so fearful
I flee the room.

When my spirit’s high,
I nearly forget you.
When I have a drink,
as night ‘s silk falls on my shoulders,
my striding legs feel elegant.
But when I see you,
shy, mild thing,
I lose my way.
You stare, I stare,
our gaze locks
across an abyss, alien souls
who’ll never know
the other’s pain.
The nest of your dreams
can’t be the desert of my heart,
yet both cast their shadows on the wall.

How long have I slept? Meeting you
stuns me helpless.
Some strong hands might dare
your touch, but those tiny paws
chill me more than a monster’s.
Move, gecko, move.

trans. © Diana Shi & George O’Connell

行間距：一首序詩

從容地在心中種千棵修竹
從容地在體內灑一桶淨水
從容地變成一隻緩緩行動的蝸牛
從容地、把心變成一只茶碗

從來沒有生過，何來死？
一直赤腳，何來襪？
在天上邁步，何來地？
在地上飛翔，何來道？

五十年後我將變成誰？
一百年後誰又成為我？

撐筋拔骨的軀體置換了
守住一口氣 變成贗品人生

INTERLINEAR SPACE: A PRELUDE

Calmly plant the heart with a thousand slim bamboos.
Calmly sprinkle from a pail of fresh water.
Calmly change to a creeping snail.
Calmly turn the heart to a teabowl.

If never born, how can you die?
If forever barefoot, why wear shoes?
If astride the sky, why set foot on earth?
If above the earth, why follow any path?

In fifty years, I’ll be who?
In a hundred, who’ll be me?

Stretch the tendons, flex the joints, renew, replace.
Hold one breath, live a lie.

trans. © Diana Shi & George O’Connell