白鹤林诗9首 英译:欧阳昱 9 Poems by Bai Helin, translated into English by Ouyang Yu 白鹤林,本名唐瑞兵,1973年生于四川省蓬溪县。1993开始在国内发表作品,曾获多种诗歌奖项,出版诗集《车行途中》等多部。 (欧阳昱/译) Bai Helin, whose real name is Tang Ruibing, was born in Pengxi, Sichuan, China, in 1973. He began publishing poetry in 1993 and has been widely published in China, won many prizes and published a number of poetry books, including chexing tuzhong (Traveling by Train on the Way). (translated by Ouyang Yu) At Longqiao Bar Those high-stemmed glasses hanging in the air Those throats containing sands and shreds of gold Those hips freely twisting and turning, with their accessories Those melodious whistlings and hoarse roars Those arms that swing and shine, the bunches of hair tightly bundled Those shaking floorboards and heart-beatings on the shoes Those eyes let loose at midnight, bottles tipsy Those people: what’s the difference between them and you But those people: they are different from themselves by day Those who pull a long face at home Those who have been blown out onto the streets from home Those who enter by the glass and exit by it, too Those who lean against the bar table and stand by the pillars Those who wear the uniforms and look dubious Those who live off the flowers and the commotion Those who, suppressed, are behind the city that quickly darkens Those who roam the Longqiao Bar Those who are thin and tall, bent double like a cat Those who you love and do not understand Those who suck on the lipstick Those who smoke and drink, sitting in a corner Those who lose much and gain little Those who want to be forgotten and taken away Those who you love but who don’t love you Those who don’t love you and do not know you Those not knowing you some of whom have noticed you Those who, having noticed you, do not understand you Those who do not understand you, looking at you Those who are looking at you and do not find it odd Those people, who are not surprised that you are crouching over the bar table Drawing ants at sixes and sevens 在廊桥酒吧 这些空中倒悬的高脚杯 这些含着沙子和细碎黄金的嗓子 这些自由的扭动的屁股和配饰 这些悠扬的唿哨和嘶哑的吼叫 这些挥动的闪光的手臂。束紧的发丝 这些震动的地板和鞋子上的心脏 这些午夜放纵的眼。微醉的酒瓶 这些人他们与你有着什么不同 但是这些人,他们也与白天的他们不同 这些住在家里而绷着脸的人 这些被风从家里吹到街上的人 这些从玻璃上进去又出来的人 这些靠在吧台和柱子旁边的人 这些穿着制服而表情暧昧的人 这些靠花朵和喧嚣养活的人 这些压抑的在迅速暗下去的城市背后的人 这些在廊桥酒吧流浪的人 这些细长的肥胖的猫着腰的人 这些你爱的人和不了解的人 这些吮吸着口红的人 这些坐在角落里抽烟和喝酒的人 这些失去很多又得到很少的人 这些想遗忘和被带走的人 这些你爱的人他们并不爱你 这些并不爱你的人都不认识你 这些不认识你的人有的注意到了你 这些注意到了你的人也不了解你 这些不了解你的人。看着你 这些看着你的人他们并不觉得奇怪 这些人,并不奇怪你趴在吧台上 划下了乱七八糟的蚂蚁 A Fake Rattan Chair For long, I wanted to get a chair Not the wooden kind, but the rattan one It would be best if it were the old kind, shiny with wear With a solid support Like the one my old dad had used when I was little Now, however, there is no one Who would go to that length with the handiwork One summer, I was finally able to secure one The kind made of artificial plastic As its seat and back, hard to come by, perfectly Fitted my buttocks and my thin, long body I didn’t hackle over the price and, in one go I shouldered it back to my rented room Sitting it near the window At first, I was daily wondering How to sit in it (A bit a la Calvino) To read, to sun myself and to think some ‘hard’ questionsHowever, apart from doing that in it a couple of times Reading a couple of pages by Paulo Coelho and Yu Jian I’d soon left it to one side Now the fake rattan chair in a black-coated iron frame Had retired before its time Like a weary housekeeper. In it, there is a mess consisting of An old attached case, four unwashed clothes, three sticks of trousers Two mobile phones, a number of poetry collections and a copy of The Golden Rose As well as a white bras, just removed From my girlfriend’s breasts 一把假藤椅 我早就想弄一把椅子了 不是那种木椅,而是藤椅 最好是那种有着扎实的肢架 和磨损的光泽的老藤椅 像小时候当工人的老爸的那种 但是现在,已没有人 再做那种费劲的手工活了 夏天的时候,我终于找到一把 是那种人工塑料仿制的 只因为它放屁股和靠背的位置 跟我瘦长的身体难得的协调一致 我没讲一分价,一口气把它 扛回租来的房间里 摆在靠近窗口的位置 起初的时候,我天天想着 应该怎样坐在它的上面 (有点“卡尔维诺”的味道) 看书,晒太阳,思考一些“费劲”的问题 可是除了有那么一两回 我在上面看了两页保罗·科埃略和于坚 我很快便把它丢去了一边 现在,那把黑漆铁架的假藤椅 它已像一个疲惫不堪的管家 提前退休了。在它上面乱七八糟地堆放着 一个旧公文包,四件未洗的上衣,三根裤子 两部手机,几本诗集和一本《金蔷薇》 还有一副刚刚从女友胸部上 取下来的,白色的乳罩 Every Day One Has to Live Every day one has to liveNot everything a liar tells may be lies And a good person may inevitably go wordless one day Should nothing untoward happen Kids may be born in forty weeks Every day one has to live Every day one has to go out, to praise And to quarrel when home. Every day is a struggle Clothes get dirty and socks, unwashed, get worn And they may rebel in a toilet basin Every day one has to live Sometimes, hope runs counter to things And sometimes, you may nod on a bus Forgetting to get off. It’s quite normal As you may begin to grow weary Every day one has to live Sometimes you may commit a mistake before you discover You yourself have been gutted by life, your brains, though, still filled with One plan after another, apart from desires And sometimes you have to put your emotions under control Every day one has to live You have to slow down and go places occasionally Such as the vicinity of the railway station, the old rundown residential district Where, the day is like a whore Being whiled away and forgotten, by more people 每一天都是生活 每一天都是生活 骗子说出的,不一定都是谎言 善良的人,难免有一天也会无话可说 如果不出意外的话 孩子都会在四十周后降生 每一天都是生活 每一天都得出门,到外面恭维 回家里争吵。每一天都是一场斗争 衣服会脏,穿过不洗的袜子 会在厕所的盆子里造反 每一天都是生活 有时候,希望的总是事与愿违 有时候,难免你会在公车上打盹 忘记下车。这很正常 你难免会开始厌倦 每一天都是生活 有时候必须错一次,你才能发现 自己已经被生活掏空。脑子里除了欲望 还是一个个的计划 有时候必须控制情绪 每一天都是生活 你必须放慢速度,偶尔去别的地方看看 比如火车站附近,比如破旧的老居民区 在那里,日子就像一个妓女 正在被更多的别人消磨、遗忘 The Pedagogical Poem ‘I want to do whatever I want to Why pretend what you are not?’ I have never thought of this before Probably because I did not even know what I had been thinking of. However, it was not till my son was born That I realized, on a sudden, why I had been so spineless Over the last thirty years And why I had lived so unwonderfully Is it because I’ve been so concerned for others? Why can’t I burst into tears if I want to, not afraid Of waking people up in their midnight sleep or noon siesta? Why can’t I go to sleep when I want to, not caring Whether in bed or in sofa or over anyone? Why can’t I laugh out loud when I want to, awake Or in a dream, or in a certain Serious meeting, or even on a funereal occasion? I have finally realized that I have been so unhappy For the near-half of my life because I have never been well concerned for myself 教育诗 “想干什么,就干什么 为什么要把自己装成个什么?” 以前,我没有想过这个问题 这可能是因为,我都不知道自己 在想些什么。可儿子出世后 我忽然明白了,这三十多年来 为什么我做人这么没有个性 为什么我活人活得这么差劲 那就是因为,我替别人想得太多? 为什么我不能想哭就哭,不怕 深更半夜午休时间吵到别人? 为什么我不能想睡就睡,不管 是在床上沙发上还是在谁的身上? 为什么我不能想笑就笑,不论 是醒着还是在梦中,或者某个 严肃的会议甚至葬礼的场合? 我终于明白了,都活了小半辈子了 我之所以这么不开心,就是因为 我从来没有好好替自己想过 The location Every morning when I pass through here The most beautiful location of the city On my way to work, I feel very much like writing poetry For example, about the bending riverbank About the weeping willows Or, at least, about the rushing river waters Because the city has its most beautiful location here Known as ‘the Bund in Mianyang’ And because below the bank of the weeping willows Is the Fujiang, ah, Mother River of this city However, although I have been here for two months I have not been able to write a poem, a beautiful poem Because I can never work out Why the location here, known as ‘Sea over Sea’, with good food and entertainment Is parked with the good cars of the city officials With not a single shadow of an ordinary citizen When I go through here every evening on my way home 地段 每天早上,经过这里 经过这座城市风景最美的地段 去上班。我都很想写首诗 比如,写写河堤弯弯 比如,写写杨柳依依 最起码,也要写写江水淼淼 因为这里,是这座城市风景最美的地段 因为这里,被称为“绵阳的外滩” 因为杨柳依依的河堤下 就是这座城市的母亲河涪江啊 可是,来这里已经两个月了 我总是写不出一首诗,一首优美的诗 因为,我总是想不通 为什么每天晚上经过这里回家时 这个名叫“海上海”的餐饮休闲地段 一律停着州官的好车 却不见一个百姓的身影 Hypocrisy When my gums bled, I kept wondering If it’s the food Till I found that it’s the brush When husbands and wives quarreled, I put it down to Personality clashes It’s not till I got married that I found it’s a tradition I have always thought that writing pretentious poetry Is a lack of skills Till I found that it’s hypocrisy 虚伪的问题 牙龈出血,我一直以为 是饮食不对 直到有一天才知道,是牙刷的问题 夫妻吵架,我一直以为 是性格不和 结婚了才发现,是传统的问题 写诗太造作,我一直以为 是技艺不高 结果才明白,是虚伪的问题 It Was Raining Harder and Harder Sitting in a chair by the windowAnd reading, the shower came, all of a sudden A shower that came faster and harder Like one troop following another, of sky soldiers, rushing down Making a huge noise in the air And I kept reading, my head lowered But my ears pricked, to listen to the sound that belonged to the summer alone As if I was listening to someone deaf and dumb From whose throat came forth a sudden long cry Occasionally, a cold wind came rushing in And woke me up from my naked thinking 阵雨越下越大 坐在窗前的椅子上 看书的时候,阵雨突然就下起来了 越来越快、越来越大的阵雨 像一队紧跟一队,集结着冲锋下来的天兵 在空中发出巨大的响声 而我依旧低头看书 只侧耳听着,这仅属于夏天的声音 就像倾听一个聋哑人 喉咙里突然发出的,一声长长的呼叫 偶尔,有冷的风扑进来 惊醒我赤裸的思想 My Father’s Fishbone Yesterday evening, Mother’s anxious call Like an invisible fishbone in Dad’s throat Abruptly got stuck in my heart While I was drinking tea, in a leisurely manner. In the hospital near the factory I met Dad, who, after remaining stubborn all his life Finally lay down, quietly, for a whole day Silent like a lion, unlike what he had been like in the last few decades Getting into an argument even before we had spoken a few words Life always has its tender side even though It is always short? The second day When I was getting ready for it again—(like in this rare poem, dedicated to Dad) Mother called to tell me That the bone that had played hide-and-seek with Dad all day Had been rawly coughed out by him Before a minor procedure was to begin (even the doctor congratulated him by saying that he was lucky) But I, strangely, felt at a loss, as if This spring, hot and cold by turns, had played Another joke on us, one that was no fun 父亲的鱼刺 昨日傍晚母亲焦急的电话 像父亲喉咙上一根隐形的鱼刺 猛地卡在了,正在悠闲地 喝茶的我心坎上。在工厂附近的医院 我见到一生倔强的父亲 他终于安静地躺下来,保持了一整天 狮子般的沉默。不再像几十年间 父子俩一见面,三句话就吵嘴 生活总有她温情的一幕?尽管那 几乎总是短暂的。第二天 当我正准备再次去体会它—— (像体会这首少有的、致父亲的诗) 母亲却已经打来电话告诉我 那根和父亲玩了一天,捉迷藏游戏的刺 在正准备动一个小小的手术前 已经被父亲,硬生生地咳了出来 (连医生都表示祝贺,直说幸运) 而我却忽然感到一种奇怪的失落。就像是 这个忽冷忽热的春天,她和我们 又开了一个,并不好笑的玩笑 A Conversation in the Wind We were drinking tea By the riverbank An old man was flying a kite Walking to and fro amidst the crowd at the edge of the square The season having entered into a deep winter. Despite the sun The wind that blew still felt cold You said that the old man was 90 Who kept doing physical exercises on a daily basis or he flew the kite alone I had wanted to say that the sun was a heaterAnd the kite was like a paper plane Two young girls were skating in a distance A Chihuahua was roaring at another big dog A middle-aged woman was practicing Tai Chi nearby We were having a conversation in the wind, about The futilities of poetry, and criticism of the realities 风中谈话 我们在滨江河堤上喝茶 一位老人在放风筝 来回漫步于广场边沿的人群 季节已经进入深冬。尽管有阳光 吹来的风仍然感觉很冷 您说那老人已经九十 每天坚持锻炼身体,或独自放风筝 我想说太阳是个取暖器 而那只风筝像纸飞机 两个年轻的姑娘在远处溜冰 一只吉娃娃狗对另一只大狗吼叫 一位中年妇女在近旁打太极 我们在风中谈话。涉及 诗的虚无,和现实的批评 (以上9首,刊载于澳大利亚文学杂志Eureka Street) |
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