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稠溪村紀(jì)事 子 衿 早發(fā)南村鄉(xiāng)，去叩稠溪村的門 道路曲折。梅樹下，四頭攔路之牛 在捍衛(wèi)亂世堆筑的村寨 神都住在令人猶豫的地方，因此 一棵草在風(fēng)中獨(dú)自跳舞 四周之風(fēng)紋絲不動(dòng)，蘆葦如華蓋 山泛白的鬢角。七百年的時(shí)間 把環(huán)繞村寨的溪水洗得發(fā)亮 隨手推開的木門，門環(huán) 粗糲銹蝕，仿佛高懸木頭之上的落日 在這樣一個(gè)周末，推開的每一扇門 都沒有主人。那些桌椅剛剛拉開 就像前一刻，他們還在聊家常 此刻就已離家萬里 留給我們的，已經(jīng)是不堪憑吊的廢墟 和一顆感慨時(shí)光的心 隱秘的敵人從城市包圍而來 而我們能做什么呢？ 除了像匠人一樣，用黑白的色調(diào) 將一切記錄下來，像在記錄一座 村莊的事故現(xiàn)場(chǎng)。己亥年十月廿八 五個(gè)人來到這里，他們爬了一遍稠溪村的 石板路，拍了一些堅(jiān)硬的照片 天空很藍(lán)，陽光很白，青苔綿軟 我思念的人在遠(yuǎn)方，和眾人一樣 選自《詩(shī)刊》  Chouxi Village Log by Zi Jin Early morning bus, to knock on the door of Chouxi Village, down a winding road. Four bulls blocked the way under a plum tree as if to defend the old sanctuary built in war time. Gods reside where people falter, just now a lonesome grass dances in the wind when all is quiet and the flowering reeds mask the mountain with white bristles. The circle-village creek flows crystal clean after percolating seven hundred years. I push open a wooden door that has a knocker up high, looking rustic and rusty like a setting sun. On a weekend like this, there is no one behind any door. It seems just moments ago the chairs around the table were pulled out for a chitchat, but now everyone has gone far away, leaving behind a ruin past mourning and a melancholy about the passing of time. City folks sneak up on the village like guerrillas, but what can one do? Black on white may be the only way to go, to record what we see, treating the village like the scene of an accident. On the 28th of October, 2019, five people arrived; they strolled along the stone paths of Chouxi Village, and took some cold hard pictures; the sky was blue; the sun was white; the moss was soft… Like everyone else, the person I miss is far far away. Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists 本詩(shī)由 PATHSHARERS BOOKS（美國(guó)同道出版社） Duck Yard Lyriists 翻譯 |
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