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Yuan Liang
梁元

生于中国重庆,上小学时随父母移居上海。毕业于复旦大学,并分别在美国两所大学获得学位。诗天空诗人协会会员。著有诗集《四月的墙下》《时间的乡愁》。现居南加州。

Yuan Liang was born in Chongqing, China. He moved to Shanghai with his parents while he attended elementary school. He graduated from Fudan University and holds graduate degrees from two American universities. He is a member of PoetrySky Poets Association and he has published a book of poetry Beneath the Wall of April (2009) and Homesick of Time. He lives in Southern California.



译者
Translator


梁元
Yuan Liang

在一棵树下

Beneath a Tree

一棵沉默的白桦 在眼里竖起十字架 变作桑田是海的冲动 你一生都在准备自己 该成为怎样的血祭? 眸中你不断后退 烛火虽未熄灭 但是光焰减小,眼圈 只能照亮自己的胸襟 葡萄酒在血液中作证 一如当年的火焰 在风中挑战时间 一只红蜻蜓 飞向晚霞的告别 当年的根曾报答泥土 夏天也受到荫蔽 秋天之后,你将缩在屋里 不再发言,也不再出门 一只不安定的小鸟 在你胸中飞来飞去 直到你身体破碎 它钻出你,远走高飞 你多么需要音乐 需要浓酒 需要墓志铭,需要 像一株树苗钻出土

 

A silent white birch erects a cross in the eyes Becoming a mulberry field is the impulse of the sea You prepare yourself all your life Which blood sacrifice did you want to be? You keep retreating into your eyes Though candlelight was never extinguished the flare decreases, the flash of eyes only reach your chest Wine is giving testimony in blood like the blaze of that year challenging time in wind A red dragonfly is flying toward the farewell of the sunset The root of the year reciprocated soil The summer has been shaded by foliage After the fall, you will shrink in your room speaking nothing, going nowhere A restless bird is flying to and fro in your chest till your body broken unthreads herself, going away How desperately you need music, strong wine and an epitaph, and need to sprout out of the ground like a sapling

变形

Transformation

如此渴望晨光 你断定自己的前世 是一只小鸟 当你在人形中度过一生 一个声音在心里说: 是时候了,该回家了 不是回到鸟巢 是回到高楼之上的蓝天 回到清晨,尘埃之外的云 回到枕着清风的日子 离开空气 摩擦起火的房间 自由自在地漫游 不再去想如何喂饱孩子 你正在逆时针飞翔 离过去越来越近 最终成为孩子 身躯躺在音乐的翅翼 变得越来越轻盈 双翼之下 你看清每一件乐器 时间的鼓面,弦和洞孔 指挥棒的颤动 乐队中新生的童年 像镜子那样发光 你在镜中变得透明 你将驮着一生的欢乐和苦难 把开始和结尾的故事 写进丰润的云 为大地准备雨水 站在一块巨石上 俯视你生活过的世界 但拒绝那是你的棺材 因为你的前世是一只鸟 而宇宙是如此之大

 

So eager for dawn you derive that in the previous life you were a small bird When you spent all your life in human form murmurs in your heart: it is time to go home Not going back to the bird’s nest but to the blue sky above skyscrapers to the early morning, the clouds beyond dust to the days on the pillow of refreshing breeze departing from the room where air clashes to fire and wandering lightheartedly No longer thinking of how to satiate a child You are hovering counterclockwise getting increasingly closer to the past and eventually return into a child Stretching your body on the wing of music and becoming more and more feather-like Beneath the wings you clearly see every musical instrument the drumhead of time, chords and holes the tremor of baton a newborn childhood in the orchestra shining like a mirror You are becoming transparent in it You will bear out the happiness and suffering of your life writing the story of the beginning and the end into plump and soft clouds and preparing rain for the earth Standing on a boulder looking down at the world you lived but refusing it as your coffin Because in a previous life, you were a bird and the universe is so great

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