多多 | Duo Duo

 

 

中文

 

四合院

 

 

滞留于屋檐的雨滴

提醒,晚秋时节,故人故事

撞开过几代家门的橡实

 

满院都是

 

每一阵风劫掠梳齿一次

牛血漆成的柜子

可做头饰的鼠牙,一股老味儿

 

挥之不去

 

老屋藏秤不藏钟,却藏有

多少神话,唯瓦拾回到

身上,姓比名更重

 

许多乐器

 

不在尘世演奏已久,五把锯

收入抽屉,十只金碗碰响额头

不借钟声,不能传送

 

顶着杏花

 

互编发辫,四位姑娘

围着一棵垂柳,早年见过的

神,已随鱼缸移走

 

指着石马

 

枝上的樱花,不用

一一数净,唯有与母亲

于同一时光中的投影

 

月满床头

 

在作梦就是读报的年龄

秋梨按旧谱相撞时,曾

有人截住它,串为词

 

石棺木车古道城基

 

越过一片平房屋脊,四合院的

逻辑,纵横的街巷,是

从谁的掌纹上预言了一个广场

 

一阵扣错衣襟的冷

 

掌心的零钱,散于桌上

按旧城塌垮的石阶码齐

便一边拾捡着,一边

 

又漏掉更多的欣喜

 

把晚年的父亲轻轻抱上膝头

朝向先人朝晨洗面的方向

胡同里磨刀人的吆喝声传来

 

张望,又一次提高了围墙……

 

English

 

COURTYARD

 

 

Raindrops linger on the eaves

recalling in late autumn old people, old stories.

These acorns all over the yard

 

knocked at the doors of many generations.

 

Each gust of wind plunders the wardrobe

painted with ox blood,

headdresses of rat’s teeth, the unerasable

 

fragrance of age.

 

Old houses store scales, not bells, yet hide

how many myths, only to restore house-tiles

to the body, family names more important than given names.

 

Many musical instruments

 

in the dust, unplayed forever, five saws

slid into drawers, ten golden bowls that bump the forehead with a note

forever echoing a bell-toll.

 

Four young girls around a willow,

 

apricot flowers on their heads,

plaiting each other’s braids;

the gods of those days

moved off with the fish urn.

 

Pointing to the stone horse

 

the many-flowered branch, too many

to count, only mother’s shadow

cast at the same moment

 

moonlight flooded the bed.

 

When dreaming was like reading a newspaper,

when the autumn pears touched according to the old calendar,

and someone stopped to string them into words.

 

Stone coffins, wooden carts, ancient paths, city walls;

 

beyond a range of roofpeaks, the courtyards’

logic crisscrossing streets and lanes

whose palmlines prophesied a square.

 

A cold draft as if a coat were misbuttoned,

 

coins from the hand scattered on the table,

stacked like the old city’s tumblestone steps

so while gathering them in,

 

joy after joy escapes.

 

Set the old man gently on your knees,

facing where ancestors faced each morning to wash,

where from the alley lifts the cry of the knifegrinder.

 

The more you long to see, the higher the wall rises.

 

trans. © Diana Shi & George O’Connell

 

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病人 | Patient

白沙门 | Bai Sha Men

诺言 | Promise

维米尔的光 | Vermeer’s Light

Summer/Fall 2014

A. E. Stallings | A. E. 史陶林

飲江 | Lau Yee-ching

Pastels, oils, drawings © Kristin Pluhacek | 克莉斯汀·普鲁哈切克