郭永秀
Quek Yong Siu
 新加坡诗人，作曲家。著有诗集《掌纹》、《筷子的故事》、《月光小夜曲》、散文《壁虎之恋》。现任新加坡作家协会理事，五月诗社理事等职务。诗曲曾多次获奖。
Quek Yong Siu, poet and composer in Singapore. He has published poetry collections Palm Lines, The Story of Chopsticks, Moonlight Serenade, prose collection The Romance of Gecko and music commentary Remnant Rhyme. He is the committee member of the Singapore Writers Association, the vice-president of the Association of Composers (Singapore) and the Chinese Instrumental Music Society. He has received many awards in poetry and music.
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译者
Translator
郭永秀
Quek Yong Siu
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十万只蚕，织不出
纤细乌黑，比丝绸更光滑
比黑缎更迷人的黑瀑布
流水般滑下来，滑下
小小的肩胛美丽的轮廓
柳丝般披下来，披在
怕羞的粉颈若隐若现
柔若风，若爱人轻轻的耳语
神秘如黑洞，如深邃的黑森林
千种柔情万般蜜意
都在这溺人的黑旋涡里
妩媚的背影，也要青丝万缕来衬托
而幽香阵阵传来如夏夜的荷塘
啊，这美的流苏
梦的轻纱
这乍见时
禁不住的 心跳
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Ten thousand silkworms couldn't knit
Such delicately fine and black, shinier than silk
A black waterfall more charming than satin
Cascading like flowing waters
Down a petite shoulder of lovely curvature
Like willow strands that cover
A shy fair neck now hidden now seen
Gentle like the breeze, like the soft murmur of lovers
Mysterious as the black hole, like a deep dark forest
A thousand tender feelings, ten thousand sweet intentions
Are in this drowning black whirlpool.
A lovely back is complemented by ten thousand strands of black
Mysterious fragrance spreads like a lotus pond in
a summer's night
Oh, the tassels of beauty
The fine yarn of dreams
This sudden vision
Of quickened heartbeat.
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该从何说起呢?
当年，为神农氏解七十二毒以后
我们便由深山野岭中
移居翠绿的茶山
武夷、安溪、普洱、龙井……
大江南北，有人的地方
就有我们繁茂的枝叶
采茶姑娘勤快的歌声中
我们繁衍，一代又一代
家世 有源有据
品种 多如牛毛
乌龙、水仙、铁观音
荣莉、桂花、白毛猴……
若还不信，可以问问
唐代的陆羽
或宋代的蔡襄
当然还有世世代代
喝我们奶水长大的老百姓
可作见证
别看我们----
面容憔悴、形体枯槁
只要一窝翻滚的沸水
我们就是燠热难耐，拼死
也要把这一身天然的体香
天地的精华，酝酿
成一壶玉液琼浆
那芬芳，从你的鼻端直透心底
叫你一生一世
因我们的存在而无憾
而今，你们这些
年轻不懂事的孩子
早已忘了，祖先
是喝我们奶水长大的民族
末曾细细品茗
便说我们苦涩不能入口
不肯倾杯啜饮
便以一种鄙夷的眼色
来否定这盅
浓郁的芳香
还有什么好说呢?
连咖啡店咖啡座也拒绝我们
硬说我们这种天然的肤色
土里土气，比不上
那些青红黄白瓶装的化学液体
我们的味道，比不上
那些善变的咖啡
啊啊，还有这些可怜的
来自锡兰的兄弟
空有金黄如醇酒的色泽
却还要让跋扈的炼乳
捣弄成这样一种
非黄非白的 浑浊
唉，多说也是枉然
在这逐渐丧失自尊的社会里
根，成了闲扯的话题
而我只不过是，一杯
无关痛痒、可有可无
拒绝同化、不识时务的
茶
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Where shall I begin?
Since assisting Shen-Nong to combat the seventy-two toxins,
We moved from the remote untamed mountains
To the lush fruitful greens of
Wuyi, Anxi, Pu'er, Longjing ......
Wherever people can be found,
North, South, East and West,
Our flourishing leaves abound.
Within the spirited songs of tea-picking maidens,
We throve, generation after generation.
Our lineage -- clear and defined;
Our varieties -- numerous:
Oo-long, Narcissus and Tieh-Kuan-Yin,
Jasmine, Osmanthus and White Monkey.
If unconvinced, you may ask
Lu Yu of the Tang, or
Cai 'Xiong of the Song,
And of course generations of the common people
Who were weaned on our essence
Can bear witness to this truth.
Do not be deceived
By our wrinkled appearances, or our withered shapes.
Give us a pot of boiling water,
And we will defy both heat and death
To body forth our natural fragrance,
The essence of heaven and earth, to brew
A flask of divine liquid.
This fragrance, flows from your nose right to your heart,
And coerces you
So that, because of us,
You live a life without regrets.
Yet today, you
Young and naive children,
Have long forgotten that your ancestors were
A race weaned on our essence.
And even before savouring our taste,
Say we're too bitter to drink,
Refuse to drain a cup
And casting looks of contempt,
Denying this cup of
Rich fragrance.
What is there left to say?
Rejected even by the coffee shops today,
Who insist that our natural colours
Dull and uncouth, are incomparable
With those colourful bottles of synthesized chemicals.
Our taste, incomparable
To the ever-changing face of coffee.
Alas, there are still
Our pitiable brothers from Ceylon who,
In vain, present their yellow hues like mellow wine,
Perversely they are being stirred together
With the domineering milk, to become
Neither yellow nor white, a bastard mix.
Ay..... .my words are all futile.
In this society, that is gradually losing its self-respect.
Our roots, have become a side topic
And I am only a cup of
Unimportant, dispensable
Unassimilated, insensible
Tea.
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