杨克诗11首（及英文翻译）
杨克是当代汉语诗人中一以贯之具有个人化历史想象力和求真意志的诗人，其城市诗歌写作开启了某种意义上的主体性。
在人民文学出版社和台湾华品文创有限公司等出版《杨克的诗》《有关与无关》《我在一颗石榴里看见了我的祖国等13部中文诗集、4部散文随笔集和1本文集，美国俄克拉赫马大学出版社、英国剑桥康河出版社和罗马尼亚、瑞典、西班牙等翻译《地球苹果的两半》《没有终点的旅程》等10种外语诗集。主编《中国新诗年鉴（1998-2019每个年度）》等。获意大利弗朗切斯科.詹皮特里国际文学奖、英国“剑桥徐志摩诗歌奖“等外国、中国大陆和台湾文学奖十多种。系中国作家协会主席团委员，中国诗歌学会会长。
Yang Ke is a contemporary Chinese poet, known for his consistent highly personalised style of historical imagination and pursuit of truth. His urban poetry marks, in a certain sense, the emergence of subjectivity in Chinese poetic expression.
He has published 13 poetry collections in Chinese—including _Yang Ke’s Poems_, _Related and Unrelated_, and _I Saw My Country Inside a Pomegranate_—along with 4 collections of prose essays and 1 anthology, through presses such as People's Literature Publishing House and Taiwan Huapin Wenchuang Co.Ltd. His works have also been translated into 10 foreign-language collections, including _Two Halves of the World Apple_ and _A Journey Without Destination_, published by the University of Oklahoma Press (USA), Cambridge River Press (UK), and publishers in Romania, Sweden, Spain, among others.
He is the editor-in-chief of _Chinese New Poetry Yearbook(1998–2019)_ and has received more than a dozen literary awards from mainland China, Taiwan, and abroad, including the Francesco Giampietri International Literary Prize (Italy) and the Cambridge Xu Zhimo Poetry Award (UK). Yang Ke currently serves as a Presidium Member of the China Writers Association, President of the Chinese Poetry Society, and Research Fellow at the Poetry Institute of Peking University.
《在东莞遇见一小块稻田》
厂房的脚趾缝
矮脚稻
拼命抱住最后一些土
它的根锚
疲惫地张着
愤怒的手 想从泥水里
抠出鸟声和虫叫
从一片亮汪汪的阳光里
我看见禾叶
耸起的背脊
一株株稻穗在拔节
谷粒灌浆 在夏风中微微笑着
跟我交谈
顿时我从喧嚣浮躁的汪洋大海里
拧干自己
像一件白衬衣
昨天我怎么也没想到
在东莞
我竟然遇见一小块稻田
青黄的稻穗
一直晃在
欣喜和悲痛的瞬间
2001年5月
《I Came across a Small Rice Field in Dongguan》
Between the toes of factories
short-stemmed rice plants
clutch at the last bit of dirt
Their root-anchors
uncurl tiredly
Outraged hands wanting to scratch
birdsong and cricket call from the mud
In a patch of gleaming sunlight
I saw rice-plant leaves
shrug like shrugged shoulders
The spikes of rice grew quickly
The grains were in milk They smiled faintly in the summer breeze
talking to me
All of a sudden, emerging from the deafening, impulsive ocean/oceanic din of notions**
I wrung myself dry
like a white shirt
Yesterday, I would never have guessed
that in Dongguan
I could have come across a small field of rice
The yellow-green spikes
continued to sway
through moments both happy and sad
May 2001
Tr. by Simon Patten
《夏时制》
火车提前开走
少女提前成熟
插在生日蛋糕上的蜡烛
提前吹灭
精心策划的谋杀案
白刀子提前进去
红刀子提前出来
只是孵房的小鸡拒绝出壳
只是入夜时分
月光不白
马路上晨跑的写实作家
在本来无车的时刻
被头班车撞死 理解了
黑色幽默和荒诞派
老地点老时间赴约会的小伙
从此遇上另一个女孩
躺在火葬场的死者
享年徒有虚名
莫名其妙被窃走一小时阳光空气
一个个目瞪口呆
时间是公正的么？
1989年
《Summer Time Change》
Ahead of time trains depart
Girls mature
Ahead of time candles are blown out
That adorn their birthday cakes
And in a well-schemed murder
A knife goes in white
And comes out red
Ahead of time
Yet chicks refuse to crack their shell
The moon fails to light the sky
At nightfall
Yet a realist writer jogging in the morning street
Has been killed by the first bus
Which was running off schedule
So black humor and the absurdist school
Can at last be understood
And the guy going for a date in the old place
At the old time has met another girl
The deceased—having just been cremated—
Has the wrong time listed on his certificate
And men stand bewildered over the theft
Of an hour of sun and air
Is time fair?
1989
Tr. by Cao Sheng & David Axelrod
《银背大猩猩》
——致朱蒂丝·桑巴贝拉
在乌干达
金刚猩猩的背，犹如一把
藏在木鼓中的银刃
切开炙热潮湿的草原
赤道低悬的铜盘下
布恩迪的叶影轻抚着它
它捶打胸口
一身铁铸的力量
敲响远古的余响
鸟散乱成流星
背脊上的银光像迸裂的黎明
压低了远山的轮廓
在广州的繁华街头，朱蒂丝·桑巴贝拉
她微笑，银光与眼影交错
正如金刚的坚定与温柔
她和它的眼神重叠
悄无声息地起伏
温柔而不失锋芒
一刚一柔，一雄一美
金刚的胸膛
每一寸肌肉都浸透厚重
而她的眼眸，却如湖面上的微波
在那一瞬，所有的喧嚣都沉寂
2025.2.10.
注：乌干达驻广州总领事朱蒂丝·桑巴贝拉曾主办银背圣诞节活动，银背大猩猩是乌干达国宝。
《Silverback》
— To Judyth Nsababera
In Uganda,
the silverback’s back,
like a blade hidden in the wooden drum,
slices through the scorching, soaked savannah.
Under the equator’s burning copper,
the leaves of Bwindi brush it,
it beats its chest —
a body forged in iron,
striking ancient, echoing thuds,
and birds shatter into stars.
The silver glint on its spine,
like dawn cracking,
pulls the far-off hills down to silence.
In Guangzhou’s crowded streets, Judith Sambabera,
smiling, her eyes and the silver flicker,
like the King, firm and gentle.
Her gaze and his meet,
quietly swaying,
gentle, but with sharp edges.
A balance of strength and softness,
Of might and beauty,
the Kong’s chest,
every muscle a thick slab of power,
while her eyes,
like waves across a lake,
still the whole world —
just for a moment.
translated by Weina Dai (翻译：戴潍娜)
February 10, 2025.
《六维空间》
银河系分离之前
我们只是生活在三维空间里
流淌的微尘
在平行线上，画出一个圆
走在中心的人
播撒万卷诗篇
耕种语轳碾压过的痕迹
以二次元进入梦境
静止的画面在缓缓流动
暗物质穿透空间
把立方体世界造出多个界面
高科技飞跃太空
以洪荒之力开启新的起点
被洞穿的四维空间
多了一条时间轴
精神的螺杆，与幂的扭曲有关
外面是另一个平行的宇宙
或无限的星空叠加
当神识开发到可以控制意念
万物皆在转瞬之间
打开时空隧道的闸门
穿梭过去与未来
六维空间在时间的推移中存在
仿佛进入宇宙能量屋
座标轴消失，星球旋转群出现
隐藏的超弦弹奏着
线向之外的符号，直到符号改变
穿越黑洞后，时间外还有时间？
2021.05.17
《Six-dimensional Space》
Before the galaxy’s genesis
We lived in merely three-dimensional space
Like floating motes of dust
A circle is drawn around the horizon,
And those who walk in the middle
Circulate tens of thousands of volumes of poetry;
Cultivate the treadmarks of the wheels of language
Enter the two-dimensional dreamland
Where still scenes slowly float
Dark matter flies through space
Creating a multitude of interfaces with the cubic world
High technology flies into space
Making new starting points with prehistoric powers
Four-dimension space has been pierced but
Has one more time axis;
The spiritual screw, has something to do with the distortion of power
Outside is another, parallel, universe
Or superimposed unlimited starry sky
When divine consciousness has evolved with the ability control the human mind
All things on earth instantly
Open the valves of the tunnels of time and space
Shuttle between the past and the future
Six-dimensional space exists in the movement of time
It seems to be entering the energy room of space
The axes of coordinates suddenly disappear
The hidden super chords are playing
The symbols beyond alignment, until the symbols change
Is there time outside time, beyond black holes?
17.05.2021
Translator: Lu Wenyan, Emma Nortfods
译者：陆文艳, 艾玛·诺芙德
《谁告诉我石峁的邮编》
入其闉阇，我想给荼女写封信
四千两百年前，那时还没有文字
甲骨卜辞也契刻不了我的深情
文明的前夜，她在石峁
遗址那时还不是遗址
从内瓮城寄到外瓮城，可有猿声
穿过古地图，所有的字皆僻字
仿佛密码，她读不懂不要紧
就像我此刻读不懂彩绘几何纹
四十八个人殉头骨，多为少女
她们是荼女的姐妹，是她祖母的祖母？
云遮雾罩时期，一切皆影影幢幢
哪怕其后千年的申公豹
豹额圆睛确有其人，何为传说
山海经确有山海
还是神话或想象的海市蜃楼？
当覆盖的黄土被大风吹尽
塬墚赫然耸立一座孤城
石头大道通向城台，我绕过石垣上的
木架构, 走进她家石砌的院落
出其东门，赤县，华夏，神州
历史之前，其实就是文字之前
她到底是甲骨和诗经的先祖
或是迁徙他乡湮灭了的异族
我将信寄到瓮城，朝代一直瓮中捉鳖
石头像和玉人面高鼻深目
我到了陕西神木，却一直
到不了她的石峁。地理上的起伏
暗示心理上的连绵
至于信寄与不寄
石峁本就在那，而她也许只在梦中
《Who Can Tell Me the Postcode of Shimao》
As I enter Yindu, I want to write to a beautiful girl there.
There was no written language over 2,400 years ago,
Even the oracle poems cannot carve my deep love.
She was in Shimao on the eve of civilisation,
When the ruins were not yet ruins
Were there any orangutan longcalls from inner Weng City posting to outer Weng City?
Going through ancient maps, all the words were rare
Like code. It did not matter if she did not understand
Like myself, now I cannot understand these colourful painted geometric patterns
There are 48 skulls, most of them were sacrificed teenage girls
Were they the beautiful girl’s sisters, or her great, great grandmother?
At that time, everything was shadowy, hidden in cloud and fog,
Even the legend Shen Gongbao, a thousand years later
Had a leopardine forehead and truthful, round eyes, so it was not hearsay.
The wind blew away the naked yellow earth
And at once a lone city appeared
The wide stone path leads to the city control tower, I avoid the wooden structures
On the stone walls, I walk into her stone-paved courtyard and
Leave from its front gate. It is China, The Middle Kingdom, The Divine Land
Before Christ, even before the invention of written language
Whether she was the ancestor of the Oracle or the Book of Poetry
Or the barbarians who emigrated and vanished
I posted my letter to Weng City, where the dynasties pursued their easy prey
The stone sculptures and jade figurines all have high noses and deep-set eyes
I arrived in Shenmu, Shanxi, but could never
Arrive in her Shimao. The undulations of the landscape
Imply psychological continuity,
But it does not matter whether I post the letter or not.
Shimao has always been there, but perhaps she is only in my dreams.
04.06.2021
Translator: Lu Wenyan, Emma Nortfods
译者：陆文艳, 艾玛·诺芙德
2021.06.04
《人民》
那些讨薪的民工。那些从大平煤窑里伸出的
148双残损的手掌。
卖血染上艾滋的李爱叶。
黄土高坡放羊的光棍。
沾着口水数钱的长舌妇。
发廊妹，不合法的性工作者。
跟城管打游击战的小贩。
需要桑拿的
小老板。
那些骑自行车的上班族。
无所事事的溜达者。
那些酒吧里的浪荡子。边喝茶
边逗鸟的老翁。
让人一头雾水的学者。
那臭烘烘的酒鬼、赌徒、挑夫
推销员、庄稼汉、教师、士兵
公子哥儿、乞丐、医生、秘书（以及小蜜）
单位里头的丑角或
配角。
从长安街到广州大道
这个冬天我从未遇到过“人民”
只看见无数卑微地说话的身体
每天坐在公共汽车上
互相取暖。
就像肮脏的零钱
使用的人，皱着眉头，把他们递给了，社会。
2004.
《 Chinese People》
Those migrant workers who have to demand their wages.
148 pairs of battered hands
held out from Daqing’s caved-in mine.
Li Aiye, who caught AIDS after giving blood.
The shepherd bachelors of the loess slopes.
Gossipy women licking a finger to count money.
Hair salon girls: unlicensed sex-workers.
Peddlers engaged in a running battle with city authorities.
Old bosses
in need of a sauna.
The 9 to 5 tribe off to work on their bicycles.
Good-for-nothings with no where to go and nothing to do.
The bar-room wasters. Old men
sipping tea as they pet songbirds.
Scholars who fill the heads of their listeners with fog.
Derros, punters, porters stinking to high heaven;
dandies, beggars, doctors, secretaries (and secret mistresses into the bargain);
workplace clowns
and other supporting actors.
From the Avenue of Heavenly Peace to the Guangzhou Road
I have yet to see “the Chinese people” this winter;
I've seen ordinary, speaking bodies
keeping each other warm
on buses day after day.
They're like grimy coins:
their users hand them over frowning
to society.
2004
Tr. by Simon Patten
《1967年的自画像》
一只快活的狗崽子从街上穿过
那一年我十岁，没见过一堵干净的墙
使夏天生动的是绿军装
我在辩论的词语中间窜来窜去
在大字报上认字
敏感的鼻子嗅着焦灼的气息
太阳很烫，口号火爆爆的那个夏天
一只狗崽子从革命风暴中穿过
教室空空荡荡
一只狗崽子从子弹的呼啸声中穿过
终于闯到了枪口上方
兴奋无比，十岁的那个夏天我不理解死亡
我觉得自己像是活在电影中
赶上了保尔的时代
当我小心翼翼地从地上捡起一颗弹壳
手指接触的只是一场恶梦的开始
1967年我目睹一张张脸孔在空气中消失
一只惊慌的狗崽子从街上穿过
飞快地逃离1967年的风景
1994年3月7日
《Self-Portrait, 1967》
a happy "sonofabitch"[1] crossing the street
I was ten that year, had never ever seen a bare wall
green army uniforms made the summer exciting
I scampered in and out of the language of debate
learning how to read from political posters
my sensitive snout picking up the smell of burning
the sun was blistering that summer of raging slogans
a sonofabitch crossing through a revolutionary storm
classrooms empt-empt-empty
a "sonofabitch" crossing through a whizz of bullets
finally charging up onto the muzzle of a gun
more thrilled than I'd ever been, I had no idea what death was in my tenth summer
I felt like I was living in a movie
and had caught up with the life and times of the heroic Pavel Korchagin [2]
when I care-carefully picked up a bullet off the ground
what my fingers touched was only the start of the nightmare
in 1967 I saw faces vanishing into thin air with my own eyes
a jittery little "sonofabitch" crossing the street
and running as fast as it could from the scenes of 1967
[1] The word gouzaizi, translated above as "sonofabitch," literally means “dog-spawn.” During the Cultural Revolution (1966-1976), this term was used to refer to the children of parents classified as landlords, rich peasants, anti-revolutionaries, convicted prisoners and so-called "Rightists" (intellectuals who had criticized the Chinese Communist Party).—Tr.
[2] Pavel Korchagin is the worker-hero of the novel How the Steel Was Tempered by Nikolai Ostrovsky. The book was extremely popular in China (millions were sold) and was recently made into a television series.—Tr.
March 7, 1994
Tr. by Simon Patton
《逆光中的那一棵木棉》
梦幻之树 黄昏在它的背后大面积沉落
逆光中它显得那样清晰
生命的躯干微妙波动
为谁明媚 银色的线条如此炫目
空气中辐射着绝不消失的洋溢的美
诉说生存的万丈光芒
此刻它是精神的灾难
在一种高贵气质的涵盖中
我们深深倾倒
成为匍匐的植物
谁的手在拧低太阳的灯芯
惟有它光焰上升
欲望的花朵 这个季节里看不见的花朵
被最后的激情吹向高处
我们的灵魂在它的枝叶上飞
当晦暗渐近 万物沉沦
心灵的风景中
黑色的剪影 意味着一切
1994年11月3日
《A Kapok Tree, Backlit at Sunset》
Tree of dreams as the expanse behind it sinks into twilight
Its backlit shape takes on a special clarity
There is a hint of swaying in its living upper limbs
For whom this loveliness these eye-catching pastel lines?
Overflow of lingering beauty radiates into the air
Telling its tale of survival as far as light reaches
In this moment’s cataclysm of the spirit
Enveloped in an aura of nobility
A tree toward which we lean admiringly
On the point of crawling in supplication
Whose hand is turning down the sun’s lamp-wick?
Only its flames are still leaping
Blossom of desire this season’s invisible flower
Being blown toward high places by the final passion
My soul flies on the branch tips
As gloom closes in all living things sink into it
In the scenery of the spirit
The silhouette one presents means everything
Written in 30th of November, 1994
Translated by Denis Mair
《这个世界的破洞，如何缝补》
世界像一件旧衣裳
被撕得四分五裂
文明在刀锋上燃烧
导弹穿过被撕开的云
弹坑是一个个破洞
街角，目光交错处
人心张开巨兽的嘴
战场，议会，屏幕
每一块碎片都在嘶吼
有人用疲倦的手指，
在一针一线地缝着
手掌早已划满血痕
站在这片废墟上的人
谁不是一块破布？
继续撕吧
直到大家都成为破烂
直到再无缝补
2 0 2 4年9月2 7一1 0月2日
《How to Mend the Holes in this World》
The world is like an old garment
Torn apart into pieces
Civilization burns on the blade
Missiles pass through torn clouds
Bullet craters are holes one by one
Street corner, where gazes intersect
The human heart opens the mouth of a giant beast
Battlefield, Parliament, Screen
Every fragment is screaming
Someone is using tired fingers,
Sewing stitch by stitch
My palm is already covered in bloodstains
The person standing on this ruins
Who isn't a piece of rag?
Continue tearing
Until everyone becomes tattered
Until there are no more seams to mend
(English translation: Cao Shui )
《走向花山（组诗）》
花山，在广西宁明县内，濒临明江。绝壁之上，用朱红颜料画着一千四五百个粗犷朴拙的人、兽形象，其中最大的人像高达三米，最小的仅高三十厘米，整个画面高约四五十米，长约一百七八十米，公认为壮族古代文化之元。
欧唷唷——
我是血的礼赞，我是火的膜拜
从野猪凶狠的獠牙上来
从雉鸡发抖的羽翎中来
从神秘的图腾和饰佩的兽骨上来
我扑灭了饿狼眼中饕餮的绿火
我震慑了猛虎额门斑斓的光焰
追逐利箭的铮鏦而来
践踏毙兽的抽搐而来
血哟，火哟
狞厉的美哟
我们举剑而来，击鼓而来，鸣金而来
——尼罗！
从小米醉人的穗子上来
从苞谷灿烂的缨子中来
从山弄垌场和斗笠就能盖住的田坝上来
我是血之礼赞，我是火之膜拜
抡着砍刀的呼啸而来
仗着烧荒的烈焰而来
血哟，火哟
丰腴的美哟
我们唱欢①而来，雀跃而来，舞蹈而来
——尼罗！
绣球跟着轻抛而来
红蛋跟着相碰而来
金竹毛竹斑竹刺竹搭成的麻栏②接踵而来
白米糍粑打上我的印记
五色糯饭飘出我的诱惑
我是血的礼赞，我是火的膜拜
血哟，火哟
崇高的美哟
我们匍匐而来扬幡而来顶礼而来
尼罗——尼罗
①欢：壮族山歌之一种。
②麻栏：壮族双层建筑，上住人，下养牲口。
一支支箭镞
射向血红的太阳，射向
太阳一样血红的野牛眼睛
兽皮裹着牯牛般粗壮的骆越汉子
裹着
斗红眼的牯牛一般咆哮的灵魂
脚步声，唔唔的欢呼
漫山遍野
踏过箭猪的尸体的同伴的呻吟
把标枪
连同毫不畏惧的手臂
捅进豹子的口中
山，被血液烧得沸腾了
心旌，森林
卷过凄厉的穿林风
香喷喷的夜晚
架在篝火上
毕毕剥剥的湿柴
迸出了满天星星
迸出了
布伯斗雷王的传说
妈勒访天边的故事
羽人梦
火灰，早已湮灭了
只有亘古不熄的昭示
仍在崖壁上的熊熊燃烧
比象形文字还要原始
比太阳还要神圣
连风都被杀死了
狼藉的山野，躺着
吻剑的头颅，饮箭的血
血染的尸骸
躺下了纷乱的马蹄
丁丁当当的杀戮、宰割
残忍和冷酷
只有“嗡哄嗡哄”的铜鼓
召唤弓，召唤剑，召唤着藤牌
母亲，没有绝望地哭喊
部落的废墟
崛起了年轻的村寨
文明跟随野蛮又一次穿越过死亡
那位用断臂擂响红铜鼓的美丽少女
被山歌传颂着
获得了一个民族的崇拜
被利刃割断的炊烟
在河岸上茂盛地生长
血泊的沼泽
遗弃了英雄的铜鼓时代
可战争却一直没有生锈
神圣的血，罪恶的血
波动着鲜红或黯淡的色彩……
穿过风卷起的浪，穿过浪撕碎的帆
跳上无帆的独木舟
追赶淌着血的熊，追赶射杀熊的箭
奔向佩箭的猎手
朝打鱼的奉献
朝撵山的奉献
美的裸露，力的温柔
积血消融了，浪花将孤独卷走
崇山峻岭间，奔泻着爱的湍流
鱼和熊掌黯然失色
青春和心，点亮炽热的红绣球
1984.
《lking towards Flower Mountain (Suite) 》
—Flower Mountain (Huashan) is located in Ningming County, Guangxi Province along Mingjiang River. Around 1500 rough-edged human figures are painted on a cliff face in cinnabar, bursting with raw vitality. The largest of the figures is three meters tall, and the shortest is around 30 centimeters. The figures are spread over an area 40-50 meters high by 170-180 meters wide. This spot is widely thought to be the cultural fountainhead of the Zhuang Minority.
Hey-yo he-yo—
I am a paean in blood I am a tribute to fire
From the tip of a boar’s tusk I came
From a pheasant’s fluffed-up feathers I came
From strange power of bone ornaments I came
Having snuffed out the ravenous glow in a wolf’s eyes I came
Having faced down the flaming stripes on a tiger’s brow I came
From a straight arrow and a stout bow I came here
Stepping over death agonies of my prey
Hey-yo blood hey-yo fire
Hey-yo fierce beauty
With sword raised beating a drum to a gong’s beat I came
—Ni-lo!
…
From nodding ears of millet I came
From corn tassels lit up by sunlight I came
From ravines and garden strips no wider than a conical hat
To the whiz of a full-swung machete blade I came
By power of flames to clear planting grounds I came
Hey-yo blood hey-yo fire
Hey-yo for ripe, bursting beauty
With joyful songs hopping like sparrows we come dancing
A bride tosses an embroidered ball in our wake
Red-dyed eggs** smack shell-to-shell as we come
Barn-houses of spotted and yellow bamboo rise at our heels
We carefully press rice cakes in family molds
Steam from our five kinds of rice wafts downwind
We are a paean in blood We are a tribute to fire
Hey-yo blood hey-yo fire
Hey-yo for beauty of things exalted
A series of arrowheads aimed at the blood-red sun loosed
At a wild bull with eyes as red as the sun
A mountain man of Luoyue** clad in rawhide
Bellows straight from his rawhide-clad soul
His bellow is like that of a red-eyed fighting bull
Sounds of his own footsteps cheer him on
All across the wild slopes…he steps over
Moans of companions fallen in bamboo thickets
The might of his arm
Drives the shaft of his spear
Straight into a leopard’s mouth
The cliff seethes with raging blood
Wind whips past the forest trees
Past the heart’s flapping banner
Luscious smells of evening
Hang over a hearth fire
Snapping of green firewood
Shoots up sparks to join stars in the sky
Sending up tales of Old Buloto**, who fought Thunder King
And of Mother Le’s visit to heaven
And dreams of a feathered man
The embers long ago died down
Now only this timeless message
Still blazes across the cliff face
More primitive than pictographic signs
More sacred than the sun
Even the wind was massacred
Gutted moorlands final resting place
Of skulls that kissed the sword blood that drenched arrows
Corpses puddled in blood
Hoof-pounding melee now recumbent
Clanging massacre blades hacking flesh
Outright cruelty or cold torture
Rising crescendo of war gongs
Summoning bows and swords summoning rattan shields
Not despairing even when mothers wail
From ruins of established tribes
Youthful stockades sprang up
By way of more deaths barbarity led the way to civilization
Oh the maiden who sounded a drum with her severed arm
Was passed down in folk songs
Worshipped as the heroine of her people
Although cooking smoke was severed by sharp blades
Some found a riverbank where it could grow rankly
A marsh once soaked in blood
Cast off the heroic era of brass drums
Yet never once did war turn rusty
Blood in grim and vivid hues
Sinful and holy, washed over the land
Through wind-whipped waves past sails torn to pieces
Step into a canoe that hoists no sail
Track the bear wounded by an arrow its trickle of blood
Run toward the hunter who wears a quiver
Turn toward offerings of netted fish
Turn toward offerings flushed from thickets
Beauty of nakedness of yielding warmth
Pent-up blood dissipates in time whitecaps sweep away loneliness
From loftiest peaks torrents of love race down
Once tempting dilemmas fade away in time
Young hearts were ignited by an embroidered ball
1984
Tr. by Denis Mair
《我在一颗石榴里看见了我的祖国》
我在一颗石榴里看见我的祖国
硕大而饱满的天地之果
它怀抱着亲密无间的子民
裸露的肌肤护着水晶的心
亿万儿女手牵着手
在枝头上酸酸甜甜微笑
多汁的秋天啊是临盆的孕妇
我想记住十月的每一扇窗户
我抚摸石榴内部微黄色的果膜
就是在抚摸我新鲜的祖国
我看见相邻的一个个省份
向阳的东部靠着背阴的西部
我看见头戴花冠的高原女儿
每一个的脸蛋儿都红扑扑
穿石榴裙的姐妹啊亭亭玉立
石榴花的嘴唇凝红欲滴
我还看见石榴的一道裂口
那些餐风露宿的兄弟
我至亲至爱的好兄弟啊
他们土黄色的坚硬背脊
忍受着龟裂土地的艰辛
每一根青筋都代表他们的苦
我发现他们的手掌非常耐看
我发现手掌的沟壑是无声的叫喊
痛楚喊醒了大片的叶子
它们沿着春风的诱惑疯长
主干以及许多枝干接受了感召
枝干又分蘖纵横交错的枝条
枝条上神采飞扬的花团锦簇
那雨水泼不灭它们的火焰
一朵一朵呀既重又轻
花蕾的风铃摇醒了黎明
太阳这头金毛雄狮还没有老
它已跳上树枝开始了舞蹈
我伫立在辉煌的梦想里
凝视每一棵朝向天空的石榴树
如同一个公民谦卑地弯腰
掏出一颗拳拳的心
丰韵的身子挂着满树的微笑
2006.
《In a Pomegranate, I See the Motherland》
In a pomegranate, I see the motherland
Plump colossal fruit of heaven and earth
Within itself holding progeny that stick together
Naked skin protecting its crystal clear heart
Children joining hands in multitudes
At a branch's end its smile is sweet and tart
In the season of fruitfulness Ah birth couch for a mother-to-be
I wish to remember each window of October
To stroke the pomegranate's yellow inner membrane
Is to stroke the motherland's fresh new growth
I see the provinces neighboring each other
The sunrise-facing east side of one is next to another's sunset-facing side
I see highland daughters, wearing garlands in their hair
Each oval face is ruddy, and young women standing tall
Are wearing skirts of pomegranate hue
Their pomegranate lips are juicy red
I also see that the pomegranate has split open
Some brothers are dining on wind, sleeping in the dew
Ah my dearly beloved brothers
Their indomitable backs, knobby and earth-colored
Bearing the hardships of crevice-riddled soil
Each vein standing out is a mark of hard toil
I find that their hands repay careful scrutiny
I find that their creases are silent cries
Across the land painful shouts stimulate leaves
To grow madly in the spring wind
Trunk and branches rise to the occasion
To put forth interlocking limbs and twigs
And proffer flower clusters, with vaulting elan
Made up of florets that are light and yet seem heavy
Like flames that aren't snuffed out by pouring rain
Floral wind chimes to toss the dawn awake
Before the lion-maned sun grew old
This fruit commenced its branch-tip dance
Within a dream’s splendor I stand and gaze
At each sky-aiming pomegranate tree
Each tree like a citizen with bowed waist
Holding forth a red heart, wrested from within itself
On its well-proportioned frame hang a tree-full of citizens
2006
Tr. by Denis Mair
(组稿 安娟英）
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