|
Monday, October 31, 2016
Yanjiao as a new destination for Chinese artists?
Just read this article in the New York Times today by Emily Feng about how more and more artists are setting up shop in Yanjiao, Hebei Province. In response, I write the following comments for the Modern Chinese Literature and Culture blog, and I'd like to circulate it around and see what kind of feedback I can get!
Saturday, February 26, 2011
As If (For W) 仿佛（给 W)
If life were different, water slow to boil
If going somewhere to die, peach petals fall on the southern slope
If the woods on the other shore were moving, we do not inform the bridge
If the skies were carried away, we could see the frog in the well
If when sound takes flight, butterflies rush to an ancient bloom
If a Tsangpa beauty at the mouth of the ideal, who would fulfill his desires with a woman
If shuriken speed about your palms, you sit serenely
If a sentence would be breached, if only there were enough lighting
If snow falling from the sky, we await our fate atop a tower
If an apple penetrates another apple, it takes not a thread of fat away
If making revolution to the bitter end, is just having sex to the bitter end
If a complete sentence, is one’s heart higher than heaven
If September were a dream, those on the bridge do not see those under it
If reality went from left to right, dark clouds meander in the moonlight forever
If the death of a poet illuminated our mutual loneliness
If in lifting a stone, it becomes cotton when it falls on our foot
If a monk who has come south, turns his head and smiles, and leaves with a wave of his hand
If we are aliens, and are just as lonely in our dreams
If using teeth to moan
If the butterfly’s life is metamorphosis, I don’t want you, I want your heart
仿佛生活是另外一个样子，如迟开的水
仿佛到别处去死，只见桃落南坡
仿佛树木在彼岸游动，我们不通知桥梁
仿佛天空席卷而去，我们才看见井地之蛙
仿佛声音起飞之时，蝴蝶正奔赴一朵古花
仿佛丹巴的美人在理想之口，谁和女人尽欢
仿佛暗器在掌心奔驰，你坐怀不乱
仿佛一个句子被攻破，只要有足够的灯光
仿佛雪从天降，我们在高楼等候命运
仿佛苹果穿过苹果，不带走一丝脂肪
仿佛将革命进行到底，也就是把性交进行到底
仿佛说一句完整的话，就是心比天高
仿佛九月如梦，桥头人看不见桥下人
仿佛现实从左到右，乌云在月光下漂泊终生
仿佛诗人之死，照亮了彼此的寂寞
仿佛我们搬起石头，砸到脚背原是棉花
仿佛南来的僧人，回头一笑，招手上路
仿佛我们是外星人，做梦一样的孤独
仿佛用牙齿去呻吟
仿佛蝴蝶一生变态，我不要你，我只要你的心
If going somewhere to die, peach petals fall on the southern slope
If the woods on the other shore were moving, we do not inform the bridge
If the skies were carried away, we could see the frog in the well
If when sound takes flight, butterflies rush to an ancient bloom
If a Tsangpa beauty at the mouth of the ideal, who would fulfill his desires with a woman
If shuriken speed about your palms, you sit serenely
If a sentence would be breached, if only there were enough lighting
If snow falling from the sky, we await our fate atop a tower
If an apple penetrates another apple, it takes not a thread of fat away
If making revolution to the bitter end, is just having sex to the bitter end
If a complete sentence, is one’s heart higher than heaven
If September were a dream, those on the bridge do not see those under it
If reality went from left to right, dark clouds meander in the moonlight forever
If the death of a poet illuminated our mutual loneliness
If in lifting a stone, it becomes cotton when it falls on our foot
If a monk who has come south, turns his head and smiles, and leaves with a wave of his hand
If we are aliens, and are just as lonely in our dreams
If using teeth to moan
If the butterfly’s life is metamorphosis, I don’t want you, I want your heart
仿佛生活是另外一个样子，如迟开的水
仿佛到别处去死，只见桃落南坡
仿佛树木在彼岸游动，我们不通知桥梁
仿佛天空席卷而去，我们才看见井地之蛙
仿佛声音起飞之时，蝴蝶正奔赴一朵古花
仿佛丹巴的美人在理想之口，谁和女人尽欢
仿佛暗器在掌心奔驰，你坐怀不乱
仿佛一个句子被攻破，只要有足够的灯光
仿佛雪从天降，我们在高楼等候命运
仿佛苹果穿过苹果，不带走一丝脂肪
仿佛将革命进行到底，也就是把性交进行到底
仿佛说一句完整的话，就是心比天高
仿佛九月如梦，桥头人看不见桥下人
仿佛现实从左到右，乌云在月光下漂泊终生
仿佛诗人之死，照亮了彼此的寂寞
仿佛我们搬起石头，砸到脚背原是棉花
仿佛南来的僧人，回头一笑，招手上路
仿佛我们是外星人，做梦一样的孤独
仿佛用牙齿去呻吟
仿佛蝴蝶一生变态，我不要你，我只要你的心
Several Ways to Look at the Sky
Several Ways to Look at the Sky 多种看天空的方法
1
The sky flows down like water; only a bird can take on
This cracked mirror
2
I live in Connecticut, where Stevens was looking at blackbirds
Is this a blessed Heaven or a pier that leads to seagulls?
I only know that autumn makes love to you
Autumn, crows and magpies each express the quality of the sky
This blackbird
3
This bird
Along the margins of tragedy, soars
Awaiting a vertical landing
Indescribable
4
The wind blows by, shredding you by the hand of God
Can you still shriek
Like a dove?
5
How do doves understand that clouds are the palm lines of the sky
Shuttling to and fro, with the movement of the earth’s strata
More distant than reality
6
Distant
A slight feather flies upward into the heavens
Such a scene on a snowy day, is unusually beautiful
7
Sewing myself up on a bench
Wrapping myself up on a piece of paper
Set on fire,
Desire and the sky
We are connected to everything
But no shadow can reap what he sows
8
Looking out from the well, it’s you
With a face as big as mine, now cold, now hot
The well is dry, its lips are sealed
The water has evaporated into wine
But there’s no need to toast its reflection
That ancient assassin has discerned
That my heart is blacker than darkness
9
With the thickness of a broach, like the moon
Tattooed on your body
As hollow objects
We know not depth nor understand borders
In this way, the starving don’t choose their food
Grasped in the hand you become a bird
10
We can only elope, we approach each other
Lightning strikes, tree-like, into the skull; the face splits
One becomes two
Representing a kind of direction, following a hidden weapon
Rushing
11
Heads fall to the ground as in the legend
And roll into the water
Their eyes are lamps, but
The bubbling foam speaks with one voice
In an uproar, burial clothes enshrouding the remains behind their pupils
12
Keep holding that slant
Under the buckets of rain
We see coins
Made within walls of bronze and iron
That coin floating in the air
Blown away because of our breath
13
Reflecting on abated pain, fingers to smear again
The dust, cutting off
The enormous surface of the sky
Every illusion is diffused in the transcendence of a bird
That little airborne mole
July 2, 1999, New Haven
多种看天空的方法
1
天空如水而下，只有一只鸟能够承受
这面破绽的镜子
2
我住在斯蒂文斯看黑鸟的康洲
这是受恩宠的天堂还是通往海鸥的码头？
我只知秋天和你做爱
秋天，乌鸦和喜雀分别表达过天空的质量
这只黑鸟
3
这鸟
沿着悲剧的边缘，飞翔
等待一个垂直角度降落
无以名状
4
风吹过来，以上帝之手撕裂你
你是否还能惊叫
如鸽子
5
鸽子如何理解云朵是天空的掌纹
穿梭往来，和地层的运行有关
比真实更遥远
6
遥远的
一根轻微的羽毛朝着天空飞升
这样的场景在雪天，尤其美丽
7
把自己缝合在一条登子上
把自己包裹在一张纸上
点燃，
欲望和天空
我们和一切都有关系
却没有影子能种豆得豆
8
从井里看，是你
和我一样大的脸，时冷时热
水井干枯，三缄其口
水蒸发成酒
但无须和影子对饮
那远古的刺客辩认了
我的心比黑暗更黑
9
以一枚胸针的厚度，像月亮
纹在你身上
我们作为空心物体
不知深浅、不懂边缘
如此，饥不择食
你握在手中便成鸟了
10
只有私奔，仰着面和你
闪电如树而立穿越头骨，脸破开
一分为二
代表某种方向，朝着暗器
疾走
11
人头像传说中那样落地
翻滚入水
他们的眼睛作灯，但
沸腾的泡沫，众口一词
喧哗，寿衣罩住了瞳孔后面的遗骸
12
继续保持倾斜
在倾盆大雨之下
我们看见铜板
在铜墙铁壁里打造
那块飘在空中的铜板
因我们的呼吸而飞逝
13
痛定思痛，手指再一次涂抹
灰尘，切断
天空巨大的平面
所有的幻景消散在一只鸟的超脱
那粒起飞了的痣
(1999，7，2。纽黑纹)
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Life in a Day
In a few minutes the documentary "Life in a Day: The Story of a Single Day on Earth," directed by Ridley Scott and Kevin McDonald, will premiere on Youtube and at the Sundance Film Festival. It's a great idea, but not exactly original. In 1936, Chinese novelist Mao Dun (Shen Yanbing) initiated a call for contributions in major newspapers to a project called One Day in China; over 4,000 entries were received from people from all walks of life all over China, to use whatever form of writing they chose to convey their experiences, thoughts, and feelings on May 21, 1936. Mao Dun and his editorial board selected about 350 pieces from among these and published the book, along with illustrations, notices of film screenings and dramatic performances, to give a cross-section of life in China on that day. The collection was published in late 1936, and copies of it can be found in libraries around the world. There is an English translation of part of the book edited by Sherman Cochran entitled One Day in China: May 21, 1936. The project was reportedly inspired in turn by a Soviet Russian project, One Day in the World, which never came to fruition.
March 6 update: to these we must add the Simultania Project by Erin Cooney, in which the same minute for hundreds of different people worldwide is broadcast simultaneously and in sync. This also reminded me of Jim Jarmusch's 1991 film "One Night on Earth," which is a feature film that plays like a documentary, divided into 5 stories of taxicab rides on the same night in 5 different world cities.
In each case the gesture at dispassionate comprehensiveness belies the projection of the creator's world view, which varies greatly, from Mao Dun's depiction of the collapse of capitalism and imperialism and the rise of the working classes to Kevin McDonald's individual/universalism and rhapsody to harmony, peace and hope. Like practitioners of "found art," these filmmaker/editors adopt the images provided to them like the pieces of tile in a mosaic to ultimately cobble together their own version of the world. Ironically it is precisely because these projects reflect different visions and do not succeed in capturing a comprehensive and objective cross-section of historical reality that they each become interesting in their own right and fruitful to compare.
March 6 update: to these we must add the Simultania Project by Erin Cooney, in which the same minute for hundreds of different people worldwide is broadcast simultaneously and in sync. This also reminded me of Jim Jarmusch's 1991 film "One Night on Earth," which is a feature film that plays like a documentary, divided into 5 stories of taxicab rides on the same night in 5 different world cities.
In each case the gesture at dispassionate comprehensiveness belies the projection of the creator's world view, which varies greatly, from Mao Dun's depiction of the collapse of capitalism and imperialism and the rise of the working classes to Kevin McDonald's individual/universalism and rhapsody to harmony, peace and hope. Like practitioners of "found art," these filmmaker/editors adopt the images provided to them like the pieces of tile in a mosaic to ultimately cobble together their own version of the world. Ironically it is precisely because these projects reflect different visions and do not succeed in capturing a comprehensive and objective cross-section of historical reality that they each become interesting in their own right and fruitful to compare.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Poetry by Ma Lan: The hand and he 手和他
The hand and he
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情
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
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
Poetry by Ma Lan skin--for Zhang Er 皮肤 --写给张耳
skin
- for Zhang Er
who has moved away our skin
it is frivolous today
men, they're yours, or mine, their men
breathe me in another time, what a beautiful pain
it is too late for our skin to be lustrous
including skeletons and bloodstains
hardly flexible at ease
we can only get rid of the poison inside our body
i am setting free the words
a new word attached to a word that i know
truth and phantasy confused
no-one can escape from karma
from here, let's have our lust fall into traps
entering the laboratory
put in setup from the past, bottle base is full of air
in the room there is a lightbulb
let me set up this result
we are thirsting
once again, and for disaster, even if it's for our skin
please come weigh us down with stones
(Where to sit?) 2004, p.98
皮肤
--写给张耳
谁移走了我们的皮肤
今天格外轻浮
男人，你的，我的，她们的男人
再次呼吸我，多艳丽的疼痛
我们的皮肤成色已晚
包括骨骼、血迹
很难伸缩自如
我们只能在体内排毒
你看我把字放生了
一个生字连着一个熟字
真相和虚幻混淆
谁也无法摆脱因果
从此，让情欲掉进陷阱
走进实验室
置入过去的装置，盛满空气的瓶底
室内还有一支灯泡
让我假设这个结果
我们再次渴望
浩劫，即使为了皮肤
请把石头压在我们身上
2002，2，春
- for Zhang Er
Translation by Martin Winter
who has moved away our skin
it is frivolous today
men, they're yours, or mine, their men
breathe me in another time, what a beautiful pain
it is too late for our skin to be lustrous
including skeletons and bloodstains
hardly flexible at ease
we can only get rid of the poison inside our body
i am setting free the words
a new word attached to a word that i know
truth and phantasy confused
no-one can escape from karma
from here, let's have our lust fall into traps
entering the laboratory
put in setup from the past, bottle base is full of air
in the room there is a lightbulb
let me set up this result
we are thirsting
once again, and for disaster, even if it's for our skin
please come weigh us down with stones
(Where to sit?) 2004, p.98
皮肤
--写给张耳
谁移走了我们的皮肤
今天格外轻浮
男人，你的，我的，她们的男人
再次呼吸我，多艳丽的疼痛
我们的皮肤成色已晚
包括骨骼、血迹
很难伸缩自如
我们只能在体内排毒
你看我把字放生了
一个生字连着一个熟字
真相和虚幻混淆
谁也无法摆脱因果
从此，让情欲掉进陷阱
走进实验室
置入过去的装置，盛满空气的瓶底
室内还有一支灯泡
让我假设这个结果
我们再次渴望
浩劫，即使为了皮肤
请把石头压在我们身上
2002，2，春
Poetry by Ma Lan: in sickness, a series 病中系列
in sickness, a series
i am at the center, awaiting operation
falling ill is a case of practice makes perfect
to be washed by pain again and again
life is at the left side or at the right
out the window is a river and there are tall buildings
the river has an iron bridge
from august comes a light wind blowing
this is a scene in another land in a foreign bed
let us talk about the past
i like to stir up the water
to fish in troubled waters
i am ruled by the moon i come out at night
i ponder my fingers and my five senses
i recall everything i have ever eaten
the doctor examines the fluids inside
tears break through an apple sounding crisp
the tears
but i know he is still alive
he has food poisoning, like a heap of grains
right across the road
and many years later
my disease is in a dilemma and hurts
all of them are young and tender
everyday i swallow tablets we enhance each other's glory
i develop a disease
just like this
(Where to sit?) 2004, p.56
病中系列
机器围绕着房间
我在房间的中心，等待手术
生病是一件熟能生巧的事
被疼痛之水洗了一遍又一遍
生命是在左边还是右边
窗外是条河 以及高楼
河上有铁桥
淡淡的风从八月吹过
这是异域的风景和异域的病床
让我们谈点往事吧
我喜欢把水搅浑
浑水摸鱼
我受月光统治 昼伏夜行
我端详我的十指 我的五官
我缅怀我吃过的所有食物
医生检查身内的液体
泪水穿破苹果 声音清脆
泪水
可我知道他还活着
他食物中毒如一堆杂粮
横断街头
很多年以后
我的病进退艰难并且疼痛
他们都年轻多情
我每日吞服药片 和他交相辉映
我发育疾病
如此而已
（１９９５/９.纽约市表维医院）
Translation by Martin Winter
machines are surrounding the roomi am at the center, awaiting operation
falling ill is a case of practice makes perfect
to be washed by pain again and again
life is at the left side or at the right
out the window is a river and there are tall buildings
the river has an iron bridge
from august comes a light wind blowing
this is a scene in another land in a foreign bed
let us talk about the past
i like to stir up the water
to fish in troubled waters
i am ruled by the moon i come out at night
i ponder my fingers and my five senses
i recall everything i have ever eaten
the doctor examines the fluids inside
tears break through an apple sounding crisp
the tears
but i know he is still alive
he has food poisoning, like a heap of grains
right across the road
and many years later
my disease is in a dilemma and hurts
all of them are young and tender
everyday i swallow tablets we enhance each other's glory
i develop a disease
just like this
(Where to sit?) 2004, p.56
病中系列
机器围绕着房间
我在房间的中心，等待手术
生病是一件熟能生巧的事
被疼痛之水洗了一遍又一遍
生命是在左边还是右边
窗外是条河 以及高楼
河上有铁桥
淡淡的风从八月吹过
这是异域的风景和异域的病床
让我们谈点往事吧
我喜欢把水搅浑
浑水摸鱼
我受月光统治 昼伏夜行
我端详我的十指 我的五官
我缅怀我吃过的所有食物
医生检查身内的液体
泪水穿破苹果 声音清脆
泪水
可我知道他还活着
他食物中毒如一堆杂粮
横断街头
很多年以后
我的病进退艰难并且疼痛
他们都年轻多情
我每日吞服药片 和他交相辉映
我发育疾病
如此而已
（１９９５/９.纽约市表维医院）
Poetry by Ma Lan: muslim grandmother 回族外婆
muslim grandmother
her clothes are kind and beautiful
in the last lonely winter of the fifties
she died lonely from famine and
hanging on trees were dead crows, an interesting contrast
outside are such enchanting orchids
when I think of my muslim grandmother
life goes through samsara, grandmother
under the plum blossom tree, the girls from the banquet
having stepped on your, the bones
people guarding the coffin singing
strange incantations, my grandmother
the years annotating the changing landscape
but running away is the sunlight, the sunlight explodes
i am walking at night at the t-intersection, straining my ears
to understand the secrets of crows
my muslim maternal grandmother
green bracelets come dangling, the robes and the wine
a lady of standing, a rich merchant's wife
i have no way to resolve this death and the karma
but i am still beautiful oh my grandmother
i am sleepy right now
you are within my sights, through the earth and the sky
we come from a faraway place, blossoms open and fall
grandmother standing behind me, motionless
the plum blossoms on her underwear cannot take up her weight
my grandmother who died from hunger
a giant fate leans on the wall
dust, wilfully blowing around your grave
grandmother, karma is there
like ramadan coming and going
who is mine, the man striking root in the wind
my muslim grandmother
(Where to sit?) 2004, p.54
Translation by Martin Winter
muslim grandmother standing outside the light far awayher clothes are kind and beautiful
in the last lonely winter of the fifties
she died lonely from famine and
hanging on trees were dead crows, an interesting contrast
outside are such enchanting orchids
when I think of my muslim grandmother
life goes through samsara, grandmother
under the plum blossom tree, the girls from the banquet
having stepped on your, the bones
people guarding the coffin singing
strange incantations, my grandmother
the years annotating the changing landscape
but running away is the sunlight, the sunlight explodes
i am walking at night at the t-intersection, straining my ears
to understand the secrets of crows
my muslim maternal grandmother
green bracelets come dangling, the robes and the wine
a lady of standing, a rich merchant's wife
i have no way to resolve this death and the karma
but i am still beautiful oh my grandmother
i am sleepy right now
you are within my sights, through the earth and the sky
we come from a faraway place, blossoms open and fall
grandmother standing behind me, motionless
the plum blossoms on her underwear cannot take up her weight
my grandmother who died from hunger
a giant fate leans on the wall
dust, wilfully blowing around your grave
grandmother, karma is there
like ramadan coming and going
who is mine, the man striking root in the wind
my muslim grandmother
(Where to sit?) 2004, p.54
Poetry by Ma Lan: Summer's Teeth 夏天的牙齿
Summer's teeth
teeth are plants
become possible in summer
our bodies
not only went through traffic accidents
on a level surface
these bloody disturbances
but running away is the sunlight
under the sunlight, we wriggle our bodies are jealous
and buried in bed after death
we have said one sentence
harder than bones
the teeth dropped out of our mouths
this is a language of the limbs
concentrated on the face
we enter the toothless age
(Where to sit?) 2004, p.53
夏天的牙齿
牙齿是植物
在夏天成为可能
我的身体
穿过交通事故
这些流血事件
在平面
飞奔的却是阳光
阳光下，我晃动身体
吃醋
死了就埋在床上
青年说了一句话
一句话比牙齿还硬
牙齿就脱口而出
这种植物的肢体语言
集合在面部
我们进入无齿时代
（１９９６，１０）
Translation by Martin Winter
teeth are plants
become possible in summer
our bodies
not only went through traffic accidents
on a level surface
these bloody disturbances
but running away is the sunlight
under the sunlight, we wriggle our bodies are jealous
and buried in bed after death
we have said one sentence
harder than bones
the teeth dropped out of our mouths
this is a language of the limbs
concentrated on the face
we enter the toothless age
(Where to sit?) 2004, p.53
夏天的牙齿
牙齿是植物
在夏天成为可能
我的身体
穿过交通事故
这些流血事件
在平面
飞奔的却是阳光
阳光下，我晃动身体
吃醋
死了就埋在床上
青年说了一句话
一句话比牙齿还硬
牙齿就脱口而出
这种植物的肢体语言
集合在面部
我们进入无齿时代
（１９９６，１０）
Poetry by Ma Lan: The accident and the reason 事故和理由
The accident and the reason
It is only an accident
parking the car
i stepped on the gas
but i cannot stop the fear
if there was a reason i would show my powers
to fill this single room with roses
not much connection with the accident
up to a point you can still drive the car
but we haven't bought any insurance
when you buy insurance you go through formalities
you need as much money as for the car
there is a structure you have to keep up
i would surrender if there was a reason
but how can i find my companion
on the steps of memory
these structures i kept up since i was small
a good appetite but no interest in kitchens
who knows if all of this is enough
to flee from the scene, after the accident
they say you don't need a reason
the victims, their relatives
entering the scene, to look for a reason
the colour on the wall slowly refuses to eat
the fear and the reason no reason the fear
so i go and spit some flowers
(Where to sit?) 2004, p.52
事故和理由
这只是一场事故
在停车的时候
踩了油门
但我不能停止恐惧
如果有一个理由我就去显灵
在单身的卧房插满玫瑰
这与事故没有太大的关系
在某种程度上车还能开
可是我们还没买保险
买保险需要一些手续
以及和车同样贵的金钱
有一个结构需要保持
只要有理由我就投降
可我怎么样找到我的同伴
在记忆的台阶上
那些我从小保持的结构
对厨房不感兴趣但胃口很好
谁知道呢这一切够不够
逃离现场，事故发生之后
据说不需要理由
被害之人他们的亲人
进入现场寻找理由
颜色在墙上渐渐绝食
恐惧理由没有理由恐惧
那么我口吐鲜花
（1996，7，13）
Translation by Martin Winter
It is only an accident
parking the car
i stepped on the gas
but i cannot stop the fear
if there was a reason i would show my powers
to fill this single room with roses
not much connection with the accident
up to a point you can still drive the car
but we haven't bought any insurance
when you buy insurance you go through formalities
you need as much money as for the car
there is a structure you have to keep up
i would surrender if there was a reason
but how can i find my companion
on the steps of memory
these structures i kept up since i was small
a good appetite but no interest in kitchens
who knows if all of this is enough
to flee from the scene, after the accident
they say you don't need a reason
the victims, their relatives
entering the scene, to look for a reason
the colour on the wall slowly refuses to eat
the fear and the reason no reason the fear
so i go and spit some flowers
(Where to sit?) 2004, p.52
事故和理由
这只是一场事故
在停车的时候
踩了油门
但我不能停止恐惧
如果有一个理由我就去显灵
在单身的卧房插满玫瑰
这与事故没有太大的关系
在某种程度上车还能开
可是我们还没买保险
买保险需要一些手续
以及和车同样贵的金钱
有一个结构需要保持
只要有理由我就投降
可我怎么样找到我的同伴
在记忆的台阶上
那些我从小保持的结构
对厨房不感兴趣但胃口很好
谁知道呢这一切够不够
逃离现场，事故发生之后
据说不需要理由
被害之人他们的亲人
进入现场寻找理由
颜色在墙上渐渐绝食
恐惧理由没有理由恐惧
那么我口吐鲜花
（1996，7，13）
Poetry by Ma Lan: Spoken in the Year of the Cock (for Ma Jian) 鸡年说话——给马坚
Spoken in the Year of the Cock
For Ma Jian
Sister, you have shut me out of the room.
There is no one here;
What are you afraid of?
And I don’t know where
Your ashes are;
I paid the fee to store them ten years
But they said the crematorium was washed away in a flood
Sister, come quickly
You insane maiden
We can fly in the clouds
Try hard to live in the future
Fabricate childhood, imagine the past
Sister, your days were only enough to become
An enemy to you and me;
Who could make sunshine a little brighter
Or a little darker?
But sister, you were an educated youth
Dead at eighteen
No chance to become a woman
Under the shadows in the fields, even God
Saw you still hurrying, three months of labor
Your body empty, wronged, and endangered
Learning to express your feelings from a tree
At a good pace
Bending, changing. Who says people, when they die
Can rise again?
But when you die you stand in the light
Illuminated
This scorching city, our home
Even the mosquitoes stopped flying
Something was brought to an end
If not for you, my sister
Could I have become me?
Where did it come from, this ponderous destiny?
As if dreaming a dream outside the universe
March 4, 2005
鸡年说话
——给马坚
姐姐，你把我关在门外
空无一人
你还在害怕什么
可你的骨灰我不知道
在哪儿了
我交了十年的存灰钱
他们说火葬场被洪水冲没了
姐，快一些到来
你这疯狂的处女
我们云朵里飞
尽可能活在未来
伪造童年，想象过去
姐，你的天才足够成为
你我的敌人
谁能把阳光弄得更明亮些
或更暗一些
但姐姐，你是知青
死在十八岁
还来不及成为女人
在田间的影子之下，上帝都
看见你仍在疾走，三个月的劳动
你的身子空荡，委屈又危险
向一颗树学习表达感情
以好的速度
弯曲，变化。谁说人，死了
还能浮现
而死就站在光中
照亮了
这炎热之城， 我们的家
蚊子都停止飞扬
一件事情被结束
如果没有你，姐姐
我是否更能成为我？
从哪里来的，这巨大的姻缘
仿佛在做梦，一个宇宙之外的梦。
2005/3/4
For Ma Jian
Sister, you have shut me out of the room.
There is no one here;
What are you afraid of?
And I don’t know where
Your ashes are;
I paid the fee to store them ten years
But they said the crematorium was washed away in a flood
Sister, come quickly
You insane maiden
We can fly in the clouds
Try hard to live in the future
Fabricate childhood, imagine the past
Sister, your days were only enough to become
An enemy to you and me;
Who could make sunshine a little brighter
Or a little darker?
But sister, you were an educated youth
Dead at eighteen
No chance to become a woman
Under the shadows in the fields, even God
Saw you still hurrying, three months of labor
Your body empty, wronged, and endangered
Learning to express your feelings from a tree
At a good pace
Bending, changing. Who says people, when they die
Can rise again?
But when you die you stand in the light
Illuminated
This scorching city, our home
Even the mosquitoes stopped flying
Something was brought to an end
If not for you, my sister
Could I have become me?
Where did it come from, this ponderous destiny?
As if dreaming a dream outside the universe
March 4, 2005
鸡年说话
——给马坚
姐姐，你把我关在门外
空无一人
你还在害怕什么
可你的骨灰我不知道
在哪儿了
我交了十年的存灰钱
他们说火葬场被洪水冲没了
姐，快一些到来
你这疯狂的处女
我们云朵里飞
尽可能活在未来
伪造童年，想象过去
姐，你的天才足够成为
你我的敌人
谁能把阳光弄得更明亮些
或更暗一些
但姐姐，你是知青
死在十八岁
还来不及成为女人
在田间的影子之下，上帝都
看见你仍在疾走，三个月的劳动
你的身子空荡，委屈又危险
向一颗树学习表达感情
以好的速度
弯曲，变化。谁说人，死了
还能浮现
而死就站在光中
照亮了
这炎热之城， 我们的家
蚊子都停止飞扬
一件事情被结束
如果没有你，姐姐
我是否更能成为我？
从哪里来的，这巨大的姻缘
仿佛在做梦，一个宇宙之外的梦。
2005/3/4
Poetry by Ma Lan: Off Key 走板
Off Key
The night deepens, early winter
My cat and dead fish are hard to distinguish, approaching
While my memory slowly pulls out an old dream:
A shabby straw hat
About to be blown into the valley
No matter who
That kiss can never be realized, only reached for
My Ming, maybe this is still a dream
Red May in the city of spring, the windmill battle is a draw
If we start again, it would be a different story
The people I love or want to know
There are no extras born into this world
As night’s curtain sinks low, silent branches outside the window
Yearn alone for the autumn winds of before
I’m just one person, outside
I once held ideals
Imagining one eye is enough
2004/10/7
走板
天色转深，初冬时分
我的猫和死去的鱼都难以区分，接近
而记忆慢慢拖出曾经的梦境：
一顶破损的草帽
准备飞向山谷
无论是谁
那相亲的场面都不可实现，只能追忆
我的阿明，这或许还是做梦
在春城的红五月，与风车战成平手
如果我们重头再来，必定物是人非
我热爱或我想认识的人
没有一个多余的人出生于世
看这夜幕低沉，窗外沉默的树枝
独自挂念着先前的秋风
我只是一个人，在屋外
曾经怀抱理想
幻想一只眼晴就够了
2004/10/7
The night deepens, early winter
My cat and dead fish are hard to distinguish, approaching
While my memory slowly pulls out an old dream:
A shabby straw hat
About to be blown into the valley
No matter who
That kiss can never be realized, only reached for
My Ming, maybe this is still a dream
Red May in the city of spring, the windmill battle is a draw
If we start again, it would be a different story
The people I love or want to know
There are no extras born into this world
As night’s curtain sinks low, silent branches outside the window
Yearn alone for the autumn winds of before
I’m just one person, outside
I once held ideals
Imagining one eye is enough
2004/10/7
走板
天色转深，初冬时分
我的猫和死去的鱼都难以区分，接近
而记忆慢慢拖出曾经的梦境：
一顶破损的草帽
准备飞向山谷
无论是谁
那相亲的场面都不可实现，只能追忆
我的阿明，这或许还是做梦
在春城的红五月，与风车战成平手
如果我们重头再来，必定物是人非
我热爱或我想认识的人
没有一个多余的人出生于世
看这夜幕低沉，窗外沉默的树枝
独自挂念着先前的秋风
我只是一个人，在屋外
曾经怀抱理想
幻想一只眼晴就够了
2004/10/7
Poetry by Ma Lan: The Fires of July 七月流火
The Fires of July
When she goes, she leaps over the landscape
Embracing an armful of fish
Like stumbling upon the Peach Blossom Spring
That other world
Ever since woman gave birth by the road
To a child, her inverted shadow grew into an adult
Ah, little Xun, it early summer already
You can hear the sound of fishing
You better prepare to sweat
And push the fishing pole farther
Through the limits of the bait, past the real surface of the water
Then crash through the genderless wall
Wait for injured July to turn
And look, August will put down the stones
Lift up the cotton bolls,
Nearing the pests
This libertine melancholy grasps at the moon in the lake
A skin-shrinking
Motion, caressing each other
Faster than light, deeper than water
July 4, 2003
七月流火
她走时要翻越一片山水
怀抱满腹的鱼
好似转入了桃花源
那个另外的世界
自从女人沿街生下
孩子，她的倒影正长大成人
呵，小迅，已经初夏了
听见打鱼的声音
请你们准备好一场虚汗
把鱼杆推的更远
穿透诱饵的限制，跨过真实的水面
再撞破无性别的墙
等那受伤的七月转身
相望，八月将放下石头
举起棉花
和害虫亲近
这份自由的多情是湖中挖月
一种收缩皮肤
抚摸彼此的运动
比光更快，比水更深
2003/7/4
When she goes, she leaps over the landscape
Embracing an armful of fish
Like stumbling upon the Peach Blossom Spring
That other world
Ever since woman gave birth by the road
To a child, her inverted shadow grew into an adult
Ah, little Xun, it early summer already
You can hear the sound of fishing
You better prepare to sweat
And push the fishing pole farther
Through the limits of the bait, past the real surface of the water
Then crash through the genderless wall
Wait for injured July to turn
And look, August will put down the stones
Lift up the cotton bolls,
Nearing the pests
This libertine melancholy grasps at the moon in the lake
A skin-shrinking
Motion, caressing each other
Faster than light, deeper than water
July 4, 2003
七月流火
她走时要翻越一片山水
怀抱满腹的鱼
好似转入了桃花源
那个另外的世界
自从女人沿街生下
孩子，她的倒影正长大成人
呵，小迅，已经初夏了
听见打鱼的声音
请你们准备好一场虚汗
把鱼杆推的更远
穿透诱饵的限制，跨过真实的水面
再撞破无性别的墙
等那受伤的七月转身
相望，八月将放下石头
举起棉花
和害虫亲近
这份自由的多情是湖中挖月
一种收缩皮肤
抚摸彼此的运动
比光更快，比水更深
2003/7/4
Poetry by Ma Lan: Angela Lee 安吉拉 李
Angela Lee
Angela Lee is a woman
She sits in a house without doors
Never laughs out loud
A string of prayer beads round her neck, a cigarette in her right hand
Her left hand curled up, pressing into her round wicker chair
Angela Lee is a middle aged woman
She could be a fan of James Bond
Keeps two crows and a dozen yellow roses
Lives simply but a lot of her money
Just disappears
Angela Lee is a woman who loves to look in the mirror
She used to hunt, and now wants to try again
But the mirror falls to the floor. She sees the white door
Beside her, and bends over to pick up the shards
Some things just get changed like this
Motherhood is born, egg becomes hen.
March 15, 1997
安吉拉 李
安吉拉 李是位妇女
她坐在没有门的家里
从不高声大笑
脖子上有串佛珠，她右手吸烟
左手紧缩，压在圆形的藤椅上
安吉拉 李是位中年妇女
她可能热爱吉姆斯帮
养了二只乌鸦，和一打黄玫瑰
过着简单的生活但她也有许多钱
不知去路
安吉拉 李是爱照镜子的妇女
她过去打猎，现在想再试一次
可镜子落在地上，她看见白色的门
在身边，并弯腰拾掇碎片
一些事情就这样被改变了像
母性的生育，蛋成为鸡
（1997/3/15．纽黑纹）
Angela Lee is a woman
She sits in a house without doors
Never laughs out loud
A string of prayer beads round her neck, a cigarette in her right hand
Her left hand curled up, pressing into her round wicker chair
Angela Lee is a middle aged woman
She could be a fan of James Bond
Keeps two crows and a dozen yellow roses
Lives simply but a lot of her money
Just disappears
Angela Lee is a woman who loves to look in the mirror
She used to hunt, and now wants to try again
But the mirror falls to the floor. She sees the white door
Beside her, and bends over to pick up the shards
Some things just get changed like this
Motherhood is born, egg becomes hen.
March 15, 1997
安吉拉 李
安吉拉 李是位妇女
她坐在没有门的家里
从不高声大笑
脖子上有串佛珠，她右手吸烟
左手紧缩，压在圆形的藤椅上
安吉拉 李是位中年妇女
她可能热爱吉姆斯帮
养了二只乌鸦，和一打黄玫瑰
过着简单的生活但她也有许多钱
不知去路
安吉拉 李是爱照镜子的妇女
她过去打猎，现在想再试一次
可镜子落在地上，她看见白色的门
在身边，并弯腰拾掇碎片
一些事情就这样被改变了像
母性的生育，蛋成为鸡
（1997/3/15．纽黑纹）
Poetry by Ma Lan: Theatric Life 戏剧生活
Theatric Life
I.
This winter I put on a costume
Applied powder and paint
Those sad and beautiful things, I will surely meet them again.
I walk with my head down, afraid I will see who is my family
Because there has never been an ugly woman
Chicken feathers will all fly into the sky, no matter how many of the dead walk below
This is a war of self-defense
She is a mare, already tame, just waiting for a man to leap into
The obstacles ahead
But New York in winter, has not yet seen the snow fall
Only breezes blowing through skirts will be struck by something and end up fluttering into the dust
One cannot get free of the darkness to arrive at the morning, not only morning
II.
I stand between myself
Look at this cow not yet seduced
No fat, eyes level, groin curved, breasts just right
I stand between my legs
Whose machine am I?
I stand between my breasts
Love too hard, hard kung fu, hard against hard
No shape, so easily corrupted
Beneath the shadows, we just turn amidst recollections
In fact women have no scene
III.
This is a criminal act—you pull out my tooth
Mysterious woman, Indian doctor from afar
You know your philosophy, expert with steel instruments
A little more anesthetic, things and experience can get separated
Beneath the light
Outside the window is crisp air, and silent passersby
A molar will fall to the floor
On the road to elopement I step on a ball
My hand makes a cherry offering, oh little Xun
Dozens of highways boldly roll towards me
I cannot control my yearning
A dark blue cloak, head buried in my chest
So many past events pass away amidst waiting
I rapidly stare at today
This old tooth’s feelings were moved, and it learned to meow
But anesthetic understands pain, the two depend on each other
Struggling to pay their respects to the dead
IV
I raise my head, it’s the 42nd Street subway station
So you won’t see me for the rest of your life?
The crowd scatters in all directions, the clock bell sounds
This eloping woman’s heart, I lower my head
Blushing, my toes press tightly into a hole
Is your toothache better?
Southern dampness, a fog you couldn’t bite through
Wave his hand, turn the days
All the flowers have bloomed to death, facing him
This is real, under the shining sky and sun
Going out the door, facing forward, I still have my head down
Moving ahead, how old is the child?
She has been standing here for a whole lifetime
And still is not sleepy
V
That bridge between life and death
Was blown away by the wind, into who knows what dream it blew
Burned down by fire, but did the fire melt the water?
It’s not convenient for me to forget: to write a eulogy for you
My little Xun, we haven’t any news
Bear down hard with your jaws, gnaw this southern orange to nothing
This orange, now “forty with no more doubts”
This orange that debauched half its life away
Three hundred year landscape, ten thousand year body fat
Let me salute you with a fascist gesture
Once I kill you I’ll be a woman warrior
VI
Some worse things will come
Some more beautiful sadnesses will come
Some internal secret histories will be revealed
This is real, my little Xun
All of this is limited to you
It stops with you
My theatric life
Ming dynasty romance, prewar martial arts, republican revolution
Playing now, a matinee
June 2003, New Haven
戏剧生活
１：
我在这个冬天穿了一身的戏装
涂脂抹粉
那些忧伤而美丽的事物，我必将与他们重逢
我低头走路，生怕看见谁是我的家人
因为从来没有丑陋的女人
鸡毛全部会飞上天，不管地下有多少行尸走肉
这是一场自卫的战争
她是一匹母马，已被驯服，只等男人跨入
前面的障碍
可冬天的纽约，还没有看见下雪
只有一些风在裙子中穿行，要被什么击中，最终飘入尘土
一个人不能摆脱黑暗，抵达清晨，不仅仅是清晨
２：
我站在我自已之间
你看，这一头未被引诱的母牛
没有脂肪，眼晴平直、胯部弯曲，乳房适度
我站在我双腿之间
我是谁的机器？
我站在我双乳之间
爱情硬度过份，硬功夫，硬碰硬
没有形状，说腐败就腐败了
在阴影之下，我们只有在追忆中转动
其实女人没有现场
３
这是一种现刑犯的举止，你拨出我的牙齿
神秘，遥远的印度女医
你精通哲学，熟悉铁器
再加点麻药，事物和经验会被分开
灯光下
窗外是清脆的空气，安静的行人
一颗大牙要落地了
我在私奔的道上，脚踏皮球
手祭红樱桃，我的小迅呵
几十条公路，勇敢地滚滚而来
我无法控制我的想念
一件青衣，埋头于胸
许多往事在等候中过去了
我飞快地注视今天
这颗老牙在感动，以及学会猫叫
而麻药了解疼痛，两者相依为命
争着向死者深深致意
４
抬起头来，在四十二街地铁站
你就一辈子不看我了吗？
人群四处散开，钟声在响
这颗私奔的妇人心，低头
脸红，脚指头正紧逼一个地洞
你的牙痛好点？
南方的潮湿，雾气，牙齿咬不断
摇他的手，转动日子
所有的花都开败了，对着他
这是真的，光天化日之下
走出门，正面，我仍然低头
朝前，这孩子多大了
她站在这儿已经一生一世
还没有睡意
５
生死之间的那座桥
被风吹走，不知风朝哪个梦里吹
被火烧掉，不知火是否溶化了水
我不便遗忘，为你写下掉词
我的小迅，我们音讯全无
请咬紧牙关，啃完这南方的桔子
这只四十不惑的桔子
这只放荡了半生的桔子
三百年的山水，万年的脂肪
请允许我向你敬礼，用法西斯的手势
杀你之后，我就成为女英雄
６
一些更坏的事情要来
一些更美的忧郁要来
一些内部的秘史要透露
这是真的，我的小迅
这一切仅限于你
止于你
我的戏剧生活
明代的风月，民国的武打，共和国的革命
正在演出，午夜场
2003，6．纽黑纹
I.
This winter I put on a costume
Applied powder and paint
Those sad and beautiful things, I will surely meet them again.
I walk with my head down, afraid I will see who is my family
Because there has never been an ugly woman
Chicken feathers will all fly into the sky, no matter how many of the dead walk below
This is a war of self-defense
She is a mare, already tame, just waiting for a man to leap into
The obstacles ahead
But New York in winter, has not yet seen the snow fall
Only breezes blowing through skirts will be struck by something and end up fluttering into the dust
One cannot get free of the darkness to arrive at the morning, not only morning
II.
I stand between myself
Look at this cow not yet seduced
No fat, eyes level, groin curved, breasts just right
I stand between my legs
Whose machine am I?
I stand between my breasts
Love too hard, hard kung fu, hard against hard
No shape, so easily corrupted
Beneath the shadows, we just turn amidst recollections
In fact women have no scene
III.
This is a criminal act—you pull out my tooth
Mysterious woman, Indian doctor from afar
You know your philosophy, expert with steel instruments
A little more anesthetic, things and experience can get separated
Beneath the light
Outside the window is crisp air, and silent passersby
A molar will fall to the floor
On the road to elopement I step on a ball
My hand makes a cherry offering, oh little Xun
Dozens of highways boldly roll towards me
I cannot control my yearning
A dark blue cloak, head buried in my chest
So many past events pass away amidst waiting
I rapidly stare at today
This old tooth’s feelings were moved, and it learned to meow
But anesthetic understands pain, the two depend on each other
Struggling to pay their respects to the dead
IV
I raise my head, it’s the 42nd Street subway station
So you won’t see me for the rest of your life?
The crowd scatters in all directions, the clock bell sounds
This eloping woman’s heart, I lower my head
Blushing, my toes press tightly into a hole
Is your toothache better?
Southern dampness, a fog you couldn’t bite through
Wave his hand, turn the days
All the flowers have bloomed to death, facing him
This is real, under the shining sky and sun
Going out the door, facing forward, I still have my head down
Moving ahead, how old is the child?
She has been standing here for a whole lifetime
And still is not sleepy
V
That bridge between life and death
Was blown away by the wind, into who knows what dream it blew
Burned down by fire, but did the fire melt the water?
It’s not convenient for me to forget: to write a eulogy for you
My little Xun, we haven’t any news
Bear down hard with your jaws, gnaw this southern orange to nothing
This orange, now “forty with no more doubts”
This orange that debauched half its life away
Three hundred year landscape, ten thousand year body fat
Let me salute you with a fascist gesture
Once I kill you I’ll be a woman warrior
VI
Some worse things will come
Some more beautiful sadnesses will come
Some internal secret histories will be revealed
This is real, my little Xun
All of this is limited to you
It stops with you
My theatric life
Ming dynasty romance, prewar martial arts, republican revolution
Playing now, a matinee
June 2003, New Haven
戏剧生活
１：
我在这个冬天穿了一身的戏装
涂脂抹粉
那些忧伤而美丽的事物，我必将与他们重逢
我低头走路，生怕看见谁是我的家人
因为从来没有丑陋的女人
鸡毛全部会飞上天，不管地下有多少行尸走肉
这是一场自卫的战争
她是一匹母马，已被驯服，只等男人跨入
前面的障碍
可冬天的纽约，还没有看见下雪
只有一些风在裙子中穿行，要被什么击中，最终飘入尘土
一个人不能摆脱黑暗，抵达清晨，不仅仅是清晨
２：
我站在我自已之间
你看，这一头未被引诱的母牛
没有脂肪，眼晴平直、胯部弯曲，乳房适度
我站在我双腿之间
我是谁的机器？
我站在我双乳之间
爱情硬度过份，硬功夫，硬碰硬
没有形状，说腐败就腐败了
在阴影之下，我们只有在追忆中转动
其实女人没有现场
３
这是一种现刑犯的举止，你拨出我的牙齿
神秘，遥远的印度女医
你精通哲学，熟悉铁器
再加点麻药，事物和经验会被分开
灯光下
窗外是清脆的空气，安静的行人
一颗大牙要落地了
我在私奔的道上，脚踏皮球
手祭红樱桃，我的小迅呵
几十条公路，勇敢地滚滚而来
我无法控制我的想念
一件青衣，埋头于胸
许多往事在等候中过去了
我飞快地注视今天
这颗老牙在感动，以及学会猫叫
而麻药了解疼痛，两者相依为命
争着向死者深深致意
４
抬起头来，在四十二街地铁站
你就一辈子不看我了吗？
人群四处散开，钟声在响
这颗私奔的妇人心，低头
脸红，脚指头正紧逼一个地洞
你的牙痛好点？
南方的潮湿，雾气，牙齿咬不断
摇他的手，转动日子
所有的花都开败了，对着他
这是真的，光天化日之下
走出门，正面，我仍然低头
朝前，这孩子多大了
她站在这儿已经一生一世
还没有睡意
５
生死之间的那座桥
被风吹走，不知风朝哪个梦里吹
被火烧掉，不知火是否溶化了水
我不便遗忘，为你写下掉词
我的小迅，我们音讯全无
请咬紧牙关，啃完这南方的桔子
这只四十不惑的桔子
这只放荡了半生的桔子
三百年的山水，万年的脂肪
请允许我向你敬礼，用法西斯的手势
杀你之后，我就成为女英雄
６
一些更坏的事情要来
一些更美的忧郁要来
一些内部的秘史要透露
这是真的，我的小迅
这一切仅限于你
止于你
我的戏剧生活
明代的风月，民国的武打，共和国的革命
正在演出，午夜场
2003，6．纽黑纹
Poetry by Ma Lan: For Him, No. 6 给他之六
For Him, No. 6
I walk to the west and describe a circle
Who can say if I'm coming back or going back
But why am I here
At morning's open incision
Striking a stone with an egg
Vainly hoping the old horse knows the way
However at some normal times
Times I am in love
I grasp the color of flesh
Covered with fresh blood like a newly laid egg
Perfect and fresh
Rolls toward the horizon like a sleepy lily
If it is certain that birds are things that can fly
The flight of desire will surely always be in the heart
Then I shall be an enormous skin following wings into dance the speed of flight
With the sorrow and fragrance of a tattered sheet of silk
Nibbling fermented bean curd
I understand that my infatuation with decadence goes way back
And even let a fossilized egg deep inside me
Riding the void like this never amounts to being finished
Dying together like this is a way out.
给他之六
我向西而行绕着园圈
回来或者回去谁说的清楚
可我为什么在这里
在早晨的刀口上
以卵击石
妄想老马识途
如果肯定鸟一定会飞
那我分明是张巨大的包皮
包裹女人破碎的香气和忧伤
随翼高速起舞
我恋爱的时候
掌握着皮肤的颜色
我明白我对腐败生活的迷恋
由来已久
任凭一枚石化的蛋
深入自己 ，乘虚而行
这还不算完
在傍晚的嘴边
同归于尽 这才是唯一的
出路
（１９９６，８）
I walk to the west and describe a circle
Who can say if I'm coming back or going back
But why am I here
At morning's open incision
Striking a stone with an egg
Vainly hoping the old horse knows the way
However at some normal times
Times I am in love
I grasp the color of flesh
Covered with fresh blood like a newly laid egg
Perfect and fresh
Rolls toward the horizon like a sleepy lily
If it is certain that birds are things that can fly
The flight of desire will surely always be in the heart
Then I shall be an enormous skin following wings into dance the speed of flight
With the sorrow and fragrance of a tattered sheet of silk
Nibbling fermented bean curd
I understand that my infatuation with decadence goes way back
And even let a fossilized egg deep inside me
Riding the void like this never amounts to being finished
Dying together like this is a way out.
给他之六
我向西而行绕着园圈
回来或者回去谁说的清楚
可我为什么在这里
在早晨的刀口上
以卵击石
妄想老马识途
如果肯定鸟一定会飞
那我分明是张巨大的包皮
包裹女人破碎的香气和忧伤
随翼高速起舞
我恋爱的时候
掌握着皮肤的颜色
我明白我对腐败生活的迷恋
由来已久
任凭一枚石化的蛋
深入自己 ，乘虚而行
这还不算完
在傍晚的嘴边
同归于尽 这才是唯一的
出路
（１９９６，８）
Poetry by Ma Lan: For Him, No. 5 给他之五
For Him, No. 5
Handling a vase
Slicing open a fruit
How much longer will I live
How much longer can I wait for you
Man walks erect but is not tall
Man hurries by but has no speed
I slide toward you on the edge of the morning
With calligraphic arabesques
An attitude already conceptualized
Language is everybody's face
Running wildly away amid the frustration of communication
My choice of him awaits him
To approach quietly takes time
Time is our common waiting
Or bullets more pure than time.
July 1996, New York
给他之五
手握一个花瓶
切开一块水果
如此快的日常生活
我们来日无多
人自立行走没有高度
人匆匆而过没有速度
我在街角向你滑来
以书法的姿态
姿态已经概念化了
语言是脸
在沟通的困惑中狂奔而去
午后的我们
在等待谁的果实
需要时间
时间是我们共同的等待
一粒比比时间更纯结的
子弹
(1996，7。纽约)
Handling a vase
Slicing open a fruit
How much longer will I live
How much longer can I wait for you
Man walks erect but is not tall
Man hurries by but has no speed
I slide toward you on the edge of the morning
With calligraphic arabesques
An attitude already conceptualized
Language is everybody's face
Running wildly away amid the frustration of communication
My choice of him awaits him
To approach quietly takes time
Time is our common waiting
Or bullets more pure than time.
July 1996, New York
给他之五
手握一个花瓶
切开一块水果
如此快的日常生活
我们来日无多
人自立行走没有高度
人匆匆而过没有速度
我在街角向你滑来
以书法的姿态
姿态已经概念化了
语言是脸
在沟通的困惑中狂奔而去
午后的我们
在等待谁的果实
需要时间
时间是我们共同的等待
一粒比比时间更纯结的
子弹
(1996，7。纽约)
Poetry by Ma Lan: This Kind of Man 这样的男人
This Kind of Man
There was a man who may have become a bird, a great legendary bird
He might have even made his shadow move forward with time on the wall
This man often thinks of others, taking off his gloves and putting them back on, in winter
This was his greatest trick; the repeated movements emaciated him, innocent
Finally he found a reason to climb a tree, wishing to touch the sound of the air currents
Wishing even to breathe to make the winds flow. But how did he separate
His not having married from his career-building dreams? Never again could he be punished on this earth, even if it is walking
He heard sounds flying up from the past and the future. At this point he grew feathers
His companions running wild on the barren wastes, their feet gradually leaving the ground, dramatically their bodies
Transformed into soaring bird bodies. Long afterward people on the ground were still looking for him
Inquiring into how he disappeared, how he died. Legends and gossip blurred into booming winds
Children, happy as you please, watch movies and listen to stories in their wildly fantastic games
They gaze at flocks of birds in the sky, arranged in a "man"-shaped formation
Can they imagine a man becoming a bird? Under the transitory, clear skies, countless possibilities
Appear and vanish, countless editions of romances: a man dies or comes back to life.
There was a man who may have become a bird, a great legendary bird
He might have even made his shadow move forward with time on the wall
This man often thinks of others, taking off his gloves and putting them back on, in winter
This was his greatest trick; the repeated movements emaciated him, innocent
Finally he found a reason to climb a tree, wishing to touch the sound of the air currents
Wishing even to breathe to make the winds flow. But how did he separate
His not having married from his career-building dreams? Never again could he be punished on this earth, even if it is walking
He heard sounds flying up from the past and the future. At this point he grew feathers
His companions running wild on the barren wastes, their feet gradually leaving the ground, dramatically their bodies
Transformed into soaring bird bodies. Long afterward people on the ground were still looking for him
Inquiring into how he disappeared, how he died. Legends and gossip blurred into booming winds
Children, happy as you please, watch movies and listen to stories in their wildly fantastic games
They gaze at flocks of birds in the sky, arranged in a "man"-shaped formation
Can they imagine a man becoming a bird? Under the transitory, clear skies, countless possibilities
Appear and vanish, countless editions of romances: a man dies or comes back to life.
Poetry by Ma Lan: Touring 观光
Touring
Looking at someone, my eyes fixed
Looking with a tree
Using acuity my eye sockets are quite metaphysical
I open up someone, a flower and bird painting
Butterflies fly out of sight, leaving the dust to meander downward
The gulls eternally at the beach
The water's location is not my personal problem
The peeling of the water's layered veil is like skinning a hide
Standing in a certain place, posture empty
The carpet's door talks up a storm, but someone still stammers
And my line of vision is harmed by a kite
They say I am a plane, a lens
Simple because homely, my life and times
Handle in hand, when I look at someone
Quite fashionable, it's either me or you
And you, the one in the picture album
Wrapped in a sleeve with me and fluttering away
Or to achieve union in death
January 1997, New Haven
观光
看一个人，目不转晴
和一颗树同时看
使用视力，眼眶就很形而上学
我打开了这个人，花鸟画
蝴蝶飞逝，尘埃缓缓降落
花还挂在树上
谁还能继续口吃？
站在某个地方，姿势空虚
我的视线是一个平面，镜片
因陋就简，我的岁月
但把柄在手，我看一个人就
非常时髦，你死我活
你呢，画册里的人
与我同卷在袖子里
坐以待毙
(1997，1。纽黑纹)
Looking at someone, my eyes fixed
Looking with a tree
Using acuity my eye sockets are quite metaphysical
I open up someone, a flower and bird painting
Butterflies fly out of sight, leaving the dust to meander downward
The gulls eternally at the beach
The water's location is not my personal problem
The peeling of the water's layered veil is like skinning a hide
Standing in a certain place, posture empty
The carpet's door talks up a storm, but someone still stammers
And my line of vision is harmed by a kite
They say I am a plane, a lens
Simple because homely, my life and times
Handle in hand, when I look at someone
Quite fashionable, it's either me or you
And you, the one in the picture album
Wrapped in a sleeve with me and fluttering away
Or to achieve union in death
January 1997, New Haven
观光
看一个人，目不转晴
和一颗树同时看
使用视力，眼眶就很形而上学
我打开了这个人，花鸟画
蝴蝶飞逝，尘埃缓缓降落
花还挂在树上
谁还能继续口吃？
站在某个地方，姿势空虚
我的视线是一个平面，镜片
因陋就简，我的岁月
但把柄在手，我看一个人就
非常时髦，你死我活
你呢，画册里的人
与我同卷在袖子里
坐以待毙
(1997，1。纽黑纹)
Poetry by Ma Lan: Funeral 丧事
Funeral
The matter proceeded on a windy autumn day, the great land incontinent
The horse lay on his side, face drenched with rain
The funeral came suddenly; the secrets of heaven cannot be revealed
On the funeral procession's way
With the speed of a fugitive bullet
The real funeral begins on the ground, agricultural poem
Bearing the casket, dust, reciting poetry
As I casually grasp at wording the skin is beautiful
Lantern light shines on the dying horse
A silent key, and all is emptiness
I see my hope liquefy under my skin
But by body is like a bird, an emaciated bird
A funeral is a kind of spiritual life
1996
丧事
事件进行在多风的秋天，大地腹泻
马侧身而卧，满脸的雨水
丧事突如其来，天机不可泄露
在奔丧的路上
以一颗子弹逃亡的速度
真正的丧事在地里开始，农事诗
出殡，尘埃，唱诗
我随手抓住词汇，皮肤就很美丽
灯笼照亮垂死的马
没有声音 虚张声势
我看见我的马在我的皮下液化
而我的身体像鸟，一只瘦弱的鸟
丧事是一种精神生活
１９９６
The matter proceeded on a windy autumn day, the great land incontinent
The horse lay on his side, face drenched with rain
The funeral came suddenly; the secrets of heaven cannot be revealed
On the funeral procession's way
With the speed of a fugitive bullet
The real funeral begins on the ground, agricultural poem
Bearing the casket, dust, reciting poetry
As I casually grasp at wording the skin is beautiful
Lantern light shines on the dying horse
A silent key, and all is emptiness
I see my hope liquefy under my skin
But by body is like a bird, an emaciated bird
A funeral is a kind of spiritual life
1996
丧事
事件进行在多风的秋天，大地腹泻
马侧身而卧，满脸的雨水
丧事突如其来，天机不可泄露
在奔丧的路上
以一颗子弹逃亡的速度
真正的丧事在地里开始，农事诗
出殡，尘埃，唱诗
我随手抓住词汇，皮肤就很美丽
灯笼照亮垂死的马
没有声音 虚张声势
我看见我的马在我的皮下液化
而我的身体像鸟，一只瘦弱的鸟
丧事是一种精神生活
１９９６
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
