树才 | Shu Cai

 

 

中文

 

这枯瘦肉身

 

 

我该拿这枯瘦肉身

怎么办呢?

 

答案或决定权

似乎都不在我手中。

 

手心空寂,如这秋风

一吹,掌纹能不颤动?

 

太阳出来一晒,

落叶们都服服帖帖。

 

牵挂这尘世,只欠

一位母亲的温暖——

 

比火焰低调,比爱绵长,

挽留着这枯瘦肉身。

 

任你逃到哪里,房屋

仍把你囚于四墙。

 

只好看天,漫不经心,

天色可由不得你。

 

走着出家的路,

走着回家的路……

 

我该拿什么来比喻

我与这枯瘦肉身的关系呢?

 

一滴水?不。一片叶?

不。一朵云?也不!

 

也许只是一堆干柴,

落日未必能点燃它,

 

但一个温暖的眼神,

没准就能让它烧起来,

 

烧成灰,烧成尘,

沿着树梢,飞天上去……

 

English

 

THIS WITHERING BODY

 

 

What should I do

with this withering body?

 

Not in my hands,

neither the answer nor the right to decide.

 

Open and quiet, in autumn breeze

how can the palm not tremble?

 

Sunlight,

these docile fallen leaves.

 

I worry at this dusty world,

indebted to a mother’s warmth—

 

humbler than flame, steadier than love—

cradling this withering body.

 

Wherever you run, houses

lock you in four walls.

 

Glance at the sky:

that tint’s not up to you.

 

The road to the temple,

the road home.

 

What figure should I use

for my own withering flesh?

 

A water bead, a leaf,

a cloud in bloom?

 

Maybe a cord of dry firewood

sunset won’t ignite,

 

but with one sharp look

could burn

 

to ash, to dust

rising past the treetops.

 

trans. © Diana Shi & George O’Connell

 

more by Shu Cai

马甸桥 | Madian Bridge

某个人 | Someone

阅读 | Reading

虚无也结束不了 | Even Nothingness Won’t End

叶落 | Falling Leaves

| Fish

登高 | Climbing the Heights

失去的统一 | Oneness Lost

日子 | Days

单独者 | Alone

安宁 | Tranquility

Spring 2016

Jean Valentine | 吉恩·瓦伦汀

王良和 | Wong Leung-wo

Ink and Brush Painting © 车前子 | Che Qianzi