王小妮 | Wang Xiaoni

 

 

中文

 

飞是不允许的

 

 

我已经一次又一次地试过

天空从来不欢迎人

 

我贴近它的时候

它脸色骤变

紧张得象伤口上

涂抹了大量的龙胆紫

 

连诗人都已经放低了

哗哗翻响过的心

因为飞是最不被允许的

 

转动身体的空间渐渐稀少

我看见西半球的上空

两只钢铁的鸟架在下坠中燃烧

就象我在夜里

撞在我的穿衣镜上

我的眼睛里

溅起了毁坏的光斑

 

又有飞机穿过头顶

我钦佩那些

把生命当做火柴杆的人

多么危急的洪水猛兽逼着它们

上了天

 

我们的自由

只装在不堪一击里

让头脑出走

就已经幅员无边。

 

English

 

FLYING NOT ALLOWED

 

 

I’ve tried over and over

but the sky never welcomes us.

 

When I press close to it

its complexion suddenly shifts

tense as a wound

daubed with gentian violet.

 

Even a poet would lower

the noisy leafings through his heart

since flying’s so forbidden.

 

Room to turn the body shrinks.

In this air above the western hemisphere

I saw two metal birds aflame, falling,

just like that night

I walked into my dressing mirror,

a splash of shattered light.

 

Whenever a plane passes over

I admire those

taking their lives as matchsticks.

What desperate floods and beasts

must force them into the sky

 

Our freedom. boxed in,

can’t withstand one blow.

The mind, let out,

covers a boundless region.

 

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

清晨 | Early Morning

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