鍾國強 | Chung Kwok-keung

 

 

中文

 

船程

 

 

不記得何時啟碇,何時泊岸

不記得水手把繩圈拋向

碼頭還是甲板,不記得

束緊還是鬆開,漸漸

不記得水氣撲面的感覺

海風的味道,霧的形狀

不記得穿過寬闊還是狹窄

兩島之間,青青還是墨墨

不記得躍起的水花

何時跌落,退遠,變色

 

浮蕩的生涯,記憶

隨跫音在船末戛止

只剩下欄干木然的感覺

還記得你獨特的容姿嗎

探身俯望,徒自掙扎的白色

是一連串被源源丟棄的

無人再細加分辨的日子

 

English

 

VOYAGE

 

 

Just when they cast the hawsers from the pier

I cannot say, when what held tight

was loosened. I can’t recall

the mist against my cheeks,

on my tongue the salt of sea air,

what shape the fogbank.

 

I can’t recall how wide the pass

between two islands, or whether

they were green or dark.

Nor even if the foam arcing from the bow

rose or fell in color.

 

Life drifts with memory

as if standing at the stern rail

faintly lost. Who remembers

how you looked, leaning out,

gazing down at the white tumult

as if at the wake of days

abandoned, impossible to count.

 

trans. © Diana Shi & George O’Connell

 

more by Chung Kwok-keung

靜夜思 | Thoughts on a Troubled Night

| Rice

橘子 | Tangerine

| Oil

織草為蜢的人 | The Weaver of Grasshoppers

馬纓丹 | Lantana

電腦寫作 | Writing on the Computer

葡萄 | Grapes

聲音 | Sound

分傘 | Sharing an Umbrella

Winter 2016-17

池凌云 | Chi Lingyun

Anastassis Vistonitis | 安纳斯塔西斯·维斯托尼提斯

Photos © 胡敏 | Hu Min