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裂隙九章
陈先发
《不可多得的容器》
我书房中的容器 都是空的 几个小钵，以前种过水仙花 有过璀璨片刻 但它们统统被清空了 我在书房不舍昼夜的写作 跟这种空 有什么样关系？ 精研眼前的事物和那 不可见的恒河水 总是貌似刁钻、晦涩—— 难以作答。 我的写作和这窗缝中逼过来的 碧云天，有什么样关系？ 多数时刻 我一无所系地抵案而眠
The Rare Containers By Chen Xianfa Translated by Nancy Liang
All the containers in my reading room are empty A few small pots, for Narcissus before had their glittery moments but were then cleared out How is my writing in this room day and night related to this emptiness? My thorough study of things in sight and the Ganges River outof reach always appears tricky and obscure ---- hard to respond to. How is my writing related to that glimpse of blue sky that presses towards me through the window’s crevice? Most of the time I lean on my desk and sleep, with no relationship whatsoever
《二者之间》
清晨环绕着我房子的 有两件东西 斑鸠和杨柳
我写作时 雕琢的斑鸠，宣泄的杨柳 我喝茶时 注满的斑鸠，掏空的杨柳 我失眠中 焦灼的斑鸠，神经的杨柳 我冥想时 对立的斑鸠，和解的杨柳
我动一动，斑鸠丢失 我停下 杨柳又来 视觉的信任在触觉中加固着 这点点滴滴 又几人懂得？ 我最想捕获的是 杨柳的斑鸠，斑鸠的杨柳 只是我的心 沉得不够深 不足将此般景象呈现出来
但两者的缝隙 正容我身 我在这分裂中又一次醒来
Between the Two By Chen Xianfa Translated by Nancy Liang
This morning surrounding my house are two things a turtledove and a willow
When I write A polishing turtledove, a venting willow When I have tea A filled turtledove, a hollowed willow When I suffer insomnia An anxious turtledove, a nervous willow When I meditate An opposing turtledove, a compromising willow
Once I make a move, the turtledove is lost When I stop the willow is back Trust from seeing gets stronger with every touch How few will ever understand these bits and pieces? What I want the most are a willowing turtledove, a turtledoving willow But my heart did not dive deeply enough to present such a scene
But the crevice between the two is just right for myself In this split I woke up for another time
《其身如一》
从多义性泥泞上挣脱而出， 如今我敢于置身单一之中。 单一的游动， 没有蛇。 单一耸动的嗅觉， 无须花香。 单一光线中的蝇眼紧盯着 玻璃被洞穿时状态的虚无 我驻足于它的 一无所见。 单一的味觉掀翻了 压在舌尖上的 每一垄菜地， 无须那么多的名字。 春枝繁茂， 湖心一亭， 我坐等它的枯竭。 我坐等每一次的我 在它每一种结构中的 枯竭。 我未曾顺着一根新枝 到达过它的尽头 我未曾料到这 单一中的 枯竭，要成为我的源泉
The Body as in Monosemy By Chen Xianfa Translated by Nancy Liang
Struggling to free myself from the muddy, multiple meanings now I dare to stand in monosemy. A pure swimming, without a snake. A pure arousal of the sense of smell, with no need of floral fragrance. In a pure beam of light, a fly is gazing at the void when glass is penetrated I stop at its seeing nothing. The pure sense of taste overthrows every ridge of vegetable field that weighs on the tongue, with no need of so many names. In the lush spring branches a pavilion stands in the lake, and I wait for it to exhaust. I wait for myself every time in every structure of it to exhaust. I have never followed a new branch to its end I have never predicted the exhaustion in this monosemy would become my origin
《来自裂隙的光线》
看窗前葵花 那锯齿状的 影子 晃来晃去 最难捱的危机莫过于 找不到一个词 把它放在 不可更改的位置上 多少假象如此影临窗 活着，是随手一掷的 骰子 我们只有语言这一束光 不可能穷尽它的八面
推窗看见比葵花 更远的 碧岩，巨眼。 小溪水、苦楝树比我们 苍老亿万倍却鲜嫩如上一秒 刚刚诞生 活着，磨损 再磨损 我们的虚弱在自然界居然找不到 一丁点的对称
葵花状如世界之裂隙 多少谬误清静地漫积于 窗台之上 我们像一个词 被写出来了 我们的形象被投射 在此窗下 但万物暗黑如岩呀，只有人在语言中的 屈辱是光线
The Light from the Crevice By Chen Xianfa Translated by Nancy Liang
Look, that sunflower in front of my window Its sawtooth-shaped shadow sways back and forth The most trying crisis is when I am unable to find that word and put it in an unchangeable position So many illusions are like this shadow on my window Living is nothing more than a random throw of a dice All we have is language - this one beam of light and we cannot fully explore its eight facets
Push the window open to see even further than the sunflower are green rocks and giant eyes. A stream and a chinaberry are billions of times older than us but as fresh as they were just born the last second Living, with wear and tear and more and more of it we are so feeble and can’t even find a slight symmetry in nature
The sunflower looks like a crevice of the world So many fallacies quietly pile up on my windowsill We are like a word already spelled out Our images are projected right under this window But all things on earth are as dark as rocks, and the only beam of light is man’s humiliation in language
《黄鹂》
用漫天大火焚烧冬末的 旷野 让那些毁不掉的东西出现
这是农民再造世界的经验，也是 梵高的空空妙手 他坐在余烬中画下晨星 懂得极度饥饿之时，星空才会旋转
而僵硬的死讯之侧 草木的弹性正恢复 另有一物懂得，极度饥饿之时 钻石才会出现裂隙 它才能脱身而出
她鹅黄地、无限稚嫰地扑出来了 她站不稳 哦，欢迎黄鹂来到这个 尖锐又愚蠢至极的世界
An Oriole By Chen Xianfa Translated by Nancy Liang
Let the sweeping fire burn the wilderness of late winter So the undestroyable things will emerge
This is how a peasant tried to rebuild the world, and Van Gogh’s brilliant, bare hands He sat in the ashes to paint morning stars knowing only in extreme hunger, will the starry sky begin to turn
Right next to the stiff news of death trees and grass are finding their resilience still there is another thing that knows, only inextreme hunger will a diamond crack for it to get free and break away
Light yellow, so tender and young, she fluttered out She can’t stand firm Oh, let’s welcome an oriole to this sharp and extremely stupid world
《云端片刻》
总找不到自体的裂隙 以便容纳 欲望中来历不明的颤动。 直到一天夜里 裸身从卧室出来 穿过门口穿衣镜 一束探照灯的强光从窗外 突然斜插在我和 镜子之间 我瞬间被一劈为二 对着光柱那边的自己恍惚了几秒 这恍惚也被 一劈为二 回到燥热的床上，我想 镜中那个我仍将寄居在 那里 折磨、自足 无限缓慢地趋淡—— 那就请他，在虚无中 再坚持一会儿
A Moment in the Cloud By Chen Xianfa Translated by Nancy Liang
I could never find a crevice in myself to hold the tremor of unknown origin in my desire until one night when I walked out of the bedroom, naked and passed by the dressing mirror a powerful beam of searchlight from outside the window suddenly cut between me and the mirror Instantaneously I was split into two Toward the other self behind the beam I was in a trance for seconds And that trance was also split into two Back to my hot and dry bed, I thought my other self in the mirror was still dwelling in there suffering, self sufficient and very slowly fading away ---- Then let him, in this void hold on a bit longer
《岁聿其逝》
防波堤上一棵柳树 陷在数不清的柳树之中 绕湖跑步的女孩 正一棵棵穿过 她跑得太快了 一次次冲破自己的躯壳 而湖上 白鹭很慢 在女孩与白鹭的裂隙里 下夜班的护士正走下 红色出租车 一年将尽 白鹭取走它在世间的一切 紧贴着水面正安静地离去
The Year Is Drawing to an EndBy Chen XianfaTranslated by Nancy LiangOn the breakwater stands a willow treeburied deeply in countless othersA girl is jogging around the lakepassing one willow after anotherShe runs so fastthat she bursts out of her own body time andtime againYet on the lakean egret is very slowIn the crevice between the girl and the egreta nurse who just finished her night shift is getting offa redtaxiThe year is drawing to an endThe egret collects all it has in this worldand leaves quietly close on the surface of the water
《尘埃中的震动》
在这颗星球上我小心地 挪动每一步 最微末尘埃上的震动 都会溢入另一种生活 我们的身体，并不比 枯叶下的蟋蟀更精巧 我们对孤独的吟唱，也远不如 蟋蟀的动听 此刻我坐在桌前 在扑面的强光中眯着眼 我看到父亲在废墙头的 梯子上 挥动着剪枝的大剪刀 他死去七年了 他该走了 他的沉闷，他老来仍然蓬勃的羞怯 该由蟋蟀用另一种语言 重新表达了
A Shake in the Dust By Chen Xianfa Translated by Nancy Liang
On this planet I carefully move every step A shake on even the tiniest dust will spill into another kind of life Our body is no more delicate than a cricket under withered leaves Our chant to loneliness, is far less charming than that of a cricket Now I am sitting at my desk squinting toward the intense sunlight I saw my father on a ladder against the abandoned wall waving a pair of pruning shears He has been dead for seven years It’s time to leave His gloom, his shyness for still being vigorous athis age shall be expressed by the cricket in a different language
《天赋鸟鸣》
紧贴雨后的灌木 听见鸟鸣在平滑的 听觉上砸出 一个个小洞 乌鸫的小洞，黑尾雀的小洞和 那些无名的 粗糙的小洞 耳朵在修补裂隙中尽显天赋！
每一株灌木中都有 一只耳朵 微妙地呼应着我们 在喉咙中搅拌的这泥和水 我试图喊出 一些亡者名字 我只有听觉的美妙世界 平衡着冷战以来的废墟
难道让我去重弹那崩坏的琴？ 我全身的器官 都浪费掉了 只剩下耳朵来消化 排山倒海的挫败感 一把搂过来这看不到边的雨中 灌木 再无力提起 早在雨水中烂掉的笔
一把搂过来这剥了皮的宁静 鸟鸣中的这个我 终于来了——但我不可能 第二次盲目返回这个世界
Heavenly Gift of Birdsongs By Chen Xianfa Translated by Nancy Liang
After the rain I cling to the shrubs when the birdsongs hit the smooth surface of my hearing to create tiny holes a hole from a blackbird, another one from a dark-tailed bird and many more, nameless and rough My ears seem to have a heavenly gift of patching up these crevices!
In every shrub there is one ear subtly echoing the mud and water blended in our throats I try to shout a few dead men’s names All I have is a beautiful world in hearing that creates a balance with the ruins after the Cold War
Would I really have to play that broken instrument again? The organs all over my body have been wasted What’s left is only my hearing to digest an avalanche of defeat I’ve got to hug the shrubs in this endless rain how can I still hold my pen that has long rotted in the water
I’ve got to hug this skinned silence I see myself in birdsongs finally coming ---- but I cannot blindly return to this world for another time
梁枫，生于黑龙江。美籍华人。哈佛商学院工商管理硕士。某世界５００强企业高级总监兼董事长助理。热爱诗歌翻译及双语写作。长居美国波士顿及北卡罗来纳州两地。
Nancy Liang, born and raised in Heilongjiang, China, graduated from Harvard Business School in 2004 with a Master's Degree in Business Administration. Passionate about cross cultural learning and management, she enjoys poetry translation and bilingual writing. She currently works for a global fortune 500 company and lives mostly in Boston, MA and Cary, NC, USA.
2016年3月
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