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.

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