王小妮 | Wang Xiaoni

 

 

中文

 

清晨

 

 

那些整夜

蜷曲在旧草席上的人们

凭借什么悟性

睁开了两只泥沼一样的眼睛。

 

睡的味儿还缩在屋角。

靠哪个部件的力气

他们直立起来

准确无误地

拿到了食物和水。

 

需要多么大的智慧

他们在昨天的裤子里

取出与他有关的一串钥匙。

需要什么样的连贯力

他们上路出门

每一个交叉路口

都不能使他们迷失。

 

我坐在理性的清晨。

我看见在我以外

是人的河水。

没有一个人向我问路

虽然我从没遇到

大过拇指甲的智慧。

 

金属的质地显然太软。

是什么念头支撑了他们

头也不回地

走进太阳那伤人的灰尘。

 

灾害和幸运

都悬在那最细的线上。

太阳,像胆囊

升起来了。

 

English

 

EARLY MORNING

 

 

Those people

curled all night on old straw mats,

by what epiphany

do they open their marshlike eyes.

 

The smell of sleep still crouches

in the corner of the room.

What clockwork

makes them straighten up,

fetching food and water

so precisely.

 

How much wisdom does it take

to fish a string of keys

from yesterday’s trousers.

What momentum

gets each one on the road,

not missing a single intersection.

 

I dwell in the morning of reason,

looking past myself.

 

A river of people.

Not one asks me for directions,

though I never met wisdom

much bigger than a thumbnail.

 

Steel’s too soft

for what braces them,

striding into the dust of that wounding sun,

their faces straight ahead.

 

Calamities and felicities

hang by the thinnest threads.

The sun, like a gallbladder,

rises.

 

trans. © Diana Shi & George O’Connell

 

more by Wang Xiaoni

应该做一个制造者 | Ought to Be a Maker

不要把你所想的告诉别人 | Don’t Tell Others What You Think

重新做一个诗人 | Be a Poet Anew

一块布的背叛 | Betrayal by a Scrap of Cloth

白纸的内部 | Inside the White Paper

飞是不允许的 | Flying Not Allowed

不认识的就不想再认识了 | I’d Rather Not Know Anyone I Don’t

我和土豆 | The Potato and I

半个我正在疼痛 | Half of Me Is Aching

Summer/Fall 2013

Ted Kooser | 泰德·库瑟

曹疏影 | Cao Shuying

Calligraphy © 盧漢耀 | Lo Hon-yiu