Sunday, March 15, 2009

Poetry by Ma Lan: The hand and he 手和他

The hand and he
Translated by Martin Winter

he burns at the fingertips, night and day
no birds on the toy tree, no wind
to scratch off his name
in leaving i swallow my tears, returning i hang down my head
i arrange on the arm a new space for his name
the hand is my mask, and he is the other side of the mask
come raise your hand against yourself, and
push him away
i sleep on the ground, my bug net is torn
fingers play out the last bit of love between shadow and hunger
fingers crossed to point out the land, repeating my image
i represent the aim of the hand, while he appears from
time to time
the game will reach its climax soon, the hand will walk
in distant lands, the illusion of home
repeated again, he disappears in foreign grounds
i bury him under the hand, surrounded
by bits of smoke that roar and scatter

(Where to sit) 2004, p.68

手和他

他在手指尖燃烧,夜以继日
玩具树上无鸟,无风
擦掉他的名字
饮泣而别,掉头而归
我在手手臂上重新给名字布局

手是我的面具,他是面具的另一面
举手伸向自己,并
把他推开
我席地而眠,蚊帐破裂
手指在阴影和饥饿中演绎最后的爱
手指交错指点江山,重复我的形象

我象征手的目的,他时隐时现
游戏快到达了高潮,手离我
远走,异乡,家园的迷梦
再一次重复,而他消失在他乡
被我埋葬于手下,突围
零碎的烟一哄而散