【诗人专集】

谢炯|十三片叶子 THIRTEEN LEAVES


编者語line-26

在制作这张专辑前,我问谢炯:
“为什么是十三片叶子?
为什么不是十二或者其他的数字?”
要知道在众人眼里,‘十三’ 
是一個令人畏惧的數字
唯避之而不及
谢炯说:“我才不信那些,
十三片叶子,十三个诗人,就这么简单!”
 率性且自信滿滿的回答。
我想:1和3 ,这兩个
她无意择选,却实属灵性组合的数字
或许正是她的ANGLE NUMBER
那冥冥之中蕴含着的、未知的神奇
引领她从呆板和单一的
诗歌写作的狭区中走了出來
进入更深广更宽泛的诗歌翻译的領域,
而突显其独有的才华和魅力。

 

十三片叶子|THIRTEEN LEAVES 

陈先发|CEHN XIANFA  胡弦|HU XIAN  
毛子|MAOZI  雷平阳|LEI PINGYANG
汤养宗|TANG YANGZONG  蓝蓝|LAN LAN
王家新|WANG JIAXIN  李少君| LI SHAOJUN
古马|GUMA  阿信|ARXIN  于坚|YU JIAN  
潘维|PAN WEI  迟凌云|CHI LINGYUN

 

第一叶:陈先发| CHEN XIANFA

CHEN XIANFA: Born in Tongchen, Anhui in 1967, Chen Xianfa graduated from Fudan University in 1989. He published several poetry collections including Death in Springtime (1994), Past Life (2005), Written Monument of the Heart (2011) and Mystery of Raising a Crane (2015 in Taiwan). He also published a novel Song of Souls (2006) and an essay collection, Heichiba Notes (2014).  He was selected as one of China’s Top Ten Pioneering Poets of 1986-2006, 2008 China’s “Best Poet of the Year” and China’s Top Ten Influential Poets of 1998-2008. He received 2015 Chen Ziyang Literary Award and 2016 Chinese Literature Media Award Best Poet of the Year.

 

前世

要逃,就干脆逃到蝴蝶的体内去
不必再咬着牙,打翻父母的阴谋和药汁
不必等到血都吐尽了。
要为敌,就干脆与整个人类为敌。
他哗地一下脱掉了蘸墨的青袍
脱掉了一层皮
脱掉了内心朝飞暮倦的长亭短亭。
脱掉了云和水
这情节确实令人震悚:他如此轻易地
又脱掉了自己的骨头!
我无限誊恋的最后一幕是:他们纵身一跃
在枝头等了亿年的蝴蝶浑身一颤
暗叫道:来了!
这一夜明月低于屋檐
碧溪潮生两岸

只有一句尚未忘记
她忍住百感交集的泪水
把左翅朝下压了压,往前一伸
说:梁兄,请了
请了—-

Prior Life

Should you want to escape,
escape to butterflies.
no need to grit your teeth
spill the tricks and bitter solution of your parents.
no need to wait
spitting your last drop of blood.
Should you want to defy,
defy all of humanity.
Suddenly, he stripped off the inked blue robe.
shed a layer of skin,
shed his pavilion heart
winding at soaring dawn and weary dusk,
shed cloud and water.
What a surprise: how easily he
shed his own bones!
My infatuation is always with the last scene:
They leaped.
A pair of butterflies on the branch
waiting for a million years, quivered
and made a low cry: Coming!
This night
bright moon dipping below the eaves
green creek rising towards its banks.

Only one verse not yet forgotten
— she held back the bittersweet tears
folded the left wing a bit downward
then extended it to him.
She said: my LIANG, please
Please —*

*This poem based on a well-known Chinese legend of a tragic love story of Liang Shanbo and Zhu Yingtai. When the lovers can’t live together, they turned into butterflies to be together after their death.

枯叶蝶素描

几只枯叶蝶隐入树丛
我听见她们舌尖蠕动的
一句话是上帝从不
承认蝴蝶有过舌头

只有诗人记得蝴蝶所说的
他们也知道在地底下
枯叶蝶如何费力地在全身
涂满想象力的苦液

整个下午,一群人呆坐湖畔
不出声是因为我们将
写下的,其实不值一提
菊花单一的苦
在玻璃杯中煮沸又
冷却下来的湖水上振荡
枯叶蝶装聋作哑
数数看吧,数数看
这个时代只剩下这三件东西
仍活在语言的秘道里

Sketch of Dead Leaf Butterflies

 A few dead leaf butterflies among the trees
I heard their tongue tips murmuring
one phrase: God has never
admitted that butterflies have tongues.

Only poets remember what the butterflies said
They also know what a struggle it is for butterflies
to paint their bodies underground
with the bitterness of imagination.

All afternoon, a swarm of people remain seated by the lake
tongue-tied, knowing that
what we write down is trivial.
The chrysanthemum’s singular bitterness simmers in the glass
quivering on the cooling water of the lake.
Dead leaf butterflies play deaf and dumb
Let’s count. Yes. Let’s count.
In our time, only three things remain
alive in the mysterious channel of language.

謝炯話翻译】 陈先发的诗意象奇特,别出心裁。 这首没有注解的诗套用了中国传统戏剧中的“梁山伯和祝英台化蝶”的故事,而“化蝶“沉浸在中国文化中良久,早已不是简单的爱情故事,而是独有的生命轮回的文化象征。形式上,此诗多为排比句,又从古诗词中嫁接来不少形容词,人物多重,跳跃幅度过大。翻译的解说成分过多,诗意顿失,而解说不够,则一团雾水。相比陈先发后期的诗,这首呈现出无比的翻译难度。单是一句“脱掉了内心朝飞暮倦的长亭短亭”就足以让人无从入手,百感交集—— 我开始朦胧地意识到,技巧除外,翻译其实是一个深度解读的过程,与其说你翻译一首诗,还不如说你真正翻译的是文字后面的人,除了对文字的理性认识,更需要对人的感性直觉, (节选自THIRTEEN LEAVES出版后記)

丹青见

桤木,白松,榆树和水杉,高于
接骨木,紫荆,铁皮桂和香樟。
湖水被秋天挽着向上,针叶林
高于阔叶林,野杜仲高于
乱蓬蓬的剑麻。如果
湖水暗涨,柞木将高于紫檀。
鸟鸣,一声接一声地
溶化着。蛇的舌头如受电击,
她从锁眼中窥见的桦树高于
从旋转着的玻璃中,窥见的桦树。
死人眼中的桦树,高于生者眼中的桦树。
被制成棺木的桦树,高于被制成提琴的桦树。

Unfolding a Scroll

Alder, white pine, elm, dawn redwood
taller than elder, bauhinia, iron laurel, camphor tree.
Lake water rises in autumn
conifer forest taller than broadleaf forest. 
wild encomia taller than tufted sisals. 
If the water creeps higher
the oak will be taller than red sandalwood.
Bird calls melt away, one after another.
If the lighting strikes a serpent’s tongue
the birch she spies through a keyhole
will be taller than the birch she spies
through a spinning glass.
The birch in dead eyes taller than the birch in living eyes.
The birch for coffins taller than the birch for violins.

第二叶:胡弦| HU XIAN

HU XIAN: Poet, essayist and editor-in-chief of The Yangtze River Poetry Journal, Hu Xian was born in Xuzhou, Jiangsu province in 1966. His poetry collections include Rain (2010), Ten Year Lamp (2015), Hourglass (2016) and Empty Staircases (2017). His awards include Poetry Journal’s  “New Century Ten Best Young Poets”, Fangcao Literature Journal “Academy Literature Poet of Year” Award and the Third Wen Yiduo Poetry Award.

平武读山记

我爱这一再崩溃的山河,爱危崖
如爱乱世。
岩层倾斜,我爱这
犹被盛怒掌控的队列。

……回声中,大地
猛然拱起。我爱那断裂在空中的力,
以及它捕获的
关于伤痕和星辰的记忆。

我爱绝顶,也爱那从绝顶
滚落的巨石一如它
爱着深渊:一颗失败的心,余生至死,
爱着沉沉灾难。

Reading Mountains in Pingwu

I love the mountains and rivers that once agai
collapse, and love the dangerous cliffs
just like troubled times. Rocks tilted.
I love the order that is controlled by fury. 

… In echo, the earth
suddenly arched. I love the force broken
in the air and the memory of the scars and stars
it captured.

I love the mountain top but also love the giant ston
rolling down from the top 
as if for its love of the abyss: 
For the rest of life, a failed heart
loves great disasters. 

琥珀里的昆虫

它懂得了观察,以其之后的岁月。
当初的慌乱、恐惧,一种慢慢凝固的东西吸走了它们,
甚至吸走了它的死,使它看上去栩栩如生。
“你几乎是活的” ,它对自己说, “除了
不能动,不能一点点老去,一切都和从前一样”。
它奇怪自己仍有新的想法,并谨慎地
把这些想法放在心底以免被吸走因为
它身体周围那绝对的平静不能
存放任何想法。
光把它的影子投到外面的世界如同投放某种欲望。
它的复眼知道无数欲望比如
总有一把梯子被放到它不能动的脚爪下。
那梯子明亮、几乎不可见,缓缓移动并把这
漫长的静止理解为一个瞬间。

Insect in Amber

He knows how to see now, including his own fate.
The slow solidification took away his initial anxiety and fear,
even his death. He looks alive now.
You’re almost alive, he tells himself, except
you can’t move or grow old, you are just the same as before.
He is surprised that he still has new ideas.
Unable to store them in the absolute stillness around him,
he holds them at the bottom of his heart.
The light casts his shadow like a desire into the outside world, 
his compound eyes see countless desires, for instance:
below his immovable feet, there is always a ladder,
bright, merely invisible, shifting slowly
and mistaking his long stillness for a brief moment. 

【谢炯话翻译】 翻译的神秘性在于,有时候译者会突然和一首诗窄道相逢,几乎本能地就知道应该翻成什么样子。胡弦的“平武读山记“就是我非常有幸翻译的一首诗。我只翻译了一遍,英文自动呈现,几近完美,连Sam和Catherine都很惊讶。“我爱绝顶,也爱那从绝顶滚落的巨石——如它爱着深渊:一颗失败的心,余生至死,爱着沉沉灾难。”什么样的诗人能够在注定的失败中看到生命过程的伟大?从灾难中提炼出人性的尊严?我在这首诗中清晰地读出胡弦思想的经脉和那种银杏叶面似的音形色的完美。他的诗令我像大热天喝了一杯冰水一样酣畅。 (节选自THIRTEEN LEAVES出版后记)

后主

他喜欢投壶,饮酒,填词,把美人
认作美狐。
“雪是最大的迷宫。” 他喜欢旧句子中
别人不曾察觉的意义。
——河山不容讨论,但在诗中是个例外。
他喜欢指鹿为马—–雪给他造出过一匹马。
“雪并不单调,因为白包含的
总是多于想象。”
雪继续下,雪底的雕栏像输掉的筹码。
一个压低了的声音在说:
美哦,让人耽留的美,总是美如虚构!

Last Emperor

He likes wine, lyric poems, and to play pitch-pot.*
He likes to think of a beautiful woman as a beautiful fox.
Snow is the largest maze.
He likes the hidden meaning of old verses.
Mountains and rivers cannot be discussed
except in poetry.
He likes to treat deer as horses
— snow has made a horse for him.
Snow is not dull.
The whiteness is always fuller than imagined.
Snow keeps falling. The carved railing underneath is like
a losing stack of chips. A low voice sighs,
Beauty, O, enchanting beauty
is always as beautiful as fiction.

 *Pitch-pot is a traditional East Asian game that requires players to throw sticks from a set distance into a large, sometimes ornate, canister.

第三叶:毛子| MAOZI

MAOZI: was born in Yidu, Hubei province. His poems have appeared at Poetry Journal, The Yangtze River Poetry Journal, Tianya, Poetry Research and Chinese Poetry. He is a recipient of several poetry awards including The Yangtze River Poetry Journal Annual Poet Prize. He lives in Yidu.

 

捕獐记

夜里没有事情发生
大早醒来,南边的丛林有了动静
溜烟地跑过去,昨天设下的陷阱里
一只灰獐蜷起受伤的前肢

多么兴奋啊,我想抱起它发抖的身子
当四目相视,它眼里的乞求和无辜
让我力气全无

只能说,是它眸子里的善救了它
接下来的几天,它养伤
我也在慢慢恢复心里某种柔和的东西
山上的日子是默契的
我变得清心寡欲

一个月亮爬上来的晚上,我打开笼子
它迟疑了片刻,猛地扬起如风的蹄子
多么单纯的灰獐啊,它甚至没有回头
它善良到还不知道什么叫感激

Catching a Doe

At night, nothing happened
Morning came, a rustle in the jungle to the south woke me.
I ran there quickly; in a trap I’d set the day before,
a grey doe curled up her injured forelegs.

How exciting! I wanted to cradle her trembling body,
her innocent begging eyes met mine,
and drained all my strength.

The kindness in her eyes must have saved her.
The next few days, while she mended,
I too regained something in my heart,  
a slow awakening of softness.
The days in the mountain brought understanding,
my desire stilled.

One evening, when the moon
climbed high, I opened the cage.
She hesitated, then raised her legs like a hooved wind.
Innocent doe, she didn’t even look back.
Too pure to know gratitude.

我的乡愁和你们不同

在宜昌,我并不快乐
我与周围的生活格格不入
为什么一直在后退
为什么我快把没到过的地方当成了祖国
它们是布拉格、伊斯坦布尔和维尔诺……

其实,那么多的城市是一座城市,那么多的人也是一个人
昨天,打开台灯,帕慕克对我说:
——我领会那个保险小职员内心的羞怯
而米沃什则摊开手:我真的不知道波兰
但熟悉漆黑中的那一条条巷道……

真的很古老啊,那些我没到过的地方
像他们的晚年赶上了我
现在,我是一个没有国家的人
我的乡愁也抵触着
那块小小的宜都……

My Nostalgia is Different from Yours

Not happy in Yichang,
I’m out of place.
Why do I continue to retreat?
Why do I almost take those never-visited place
as my homeland?
Prague, Istanbul or Vilnius …

So many cities are one to me.
So many people are one to me.
Yesterday, under the lamp, Pamuk said
“— I understand how shy that insurance clerk felt. ”
And Milosz opened his palm:
“I  really don’t know Poland
except those dark alleys …”

How old! Those places I’ve never been,
their old age meets mine.
Now, I am a person without a homeland,
my nostalgia contradicts
that tiny place called Yidu.

【谢炯话翻译】 我非常欣赏毛子诗里的温厚和诚意,那股淡淡的对天地的慈悲感怀和忧伤,以及那阵雨过丛林时山毛榉的瑟瑟声。(节选自THIRTEEN LEAVES出版后记)

孤独的物种

河边提水的人,把一条大河
饲养在水桶中

某些时刻,月亮也爬进来
他吃惊于这么容易
就养活了一个孤独的物种

他享受这样的独处
像敲击一台老式打字机,他在树林里
停顿或走动
但他有时也去想,那逃离出来的城市
那里的人们睡了吗
是否有一个不明飞行物
悄悄飞临了它的上空

这样想着,他睡了
他梦见自己变成深夜大街上
一个绿色的邮筒
—— 孤单、落伍,却装满柔软的,温暖的
来自四面八方的道路……

A Lonely Species

A man fetching water
stored a river in his bucket.

At one point, the moon crept in.
The man was surprised to find
that he could raise a lonely species so easily.

He enjoyed his solitude
like typing on an old typewriter. In the woods
he stopped, or walked
but sometimes he thought about the city
he’d escaped from. 
Are the people there asleep?
Is there a UFO quietly entering its sky?

He drifted into sleep with his thoughts,
and dreamed of being turned into a green mailbox,
standing on a main street at midnight
— alone, old fashioned, stuffed with soft
warm letters from all directions …

第四叶:雷平阳| LEI PINGYANG

LEI PINGYANG:A renowned poet in China, Lei Pingyang was born in Zhaotong, Yunnan province of China in July 1966. He is the author of more than twenty poetry collections.

 

杀狗的过程

这应该是杀狗的
唯一方式。今天早上 10 点 25 分
在金鼎山农贸市场 3 单元
靠南的最后一个铺面前的空地上
一条狗依偎在主人的脚边,它抬着头
望着繁忙的交易区。偶尔,伸出
长长的舌头,舔一下主人的裤管
主人也用手抚摸着它的头
仿佛在为远行的孩子理顺衣领
可是,这温暖的场景并没有持续多久
主人将它的头揽进怀里
一张长长的刀叶就送进了
它的脖子。它叫着,脖子
像系上了一条红领巾,迅速地
蹿到了店铺旁的柴堆里……
主人向它招了招手,它又爬了回来
继续依偎在主人的脚边,身体
有些抖。主人又摸了摸它的头
仿佛为受伤的孩子,清洗疤痕
但是,这也是一瞬而逝的温情
主人的刀,再一次戳进了它的脖子
力道和位置,与前次毫无区别
它叫着,脖子上像插上了
一杆红颜色的小旗子,力不从心地
蹿到了店铺旁的柴堆里
主人向它招了招手,它又爬了回来
——如此重复了 5 次,它才死在
爬向主人的路上。它的血迹
让它体味到了消亡的魔力
11 点 20 分,主人开始叫卖
因为等待,许多围观的人
还在谈论着它一次比一次减少
的抖,和它那痉挛的脊背
说它像一个回家奔丧的游子

The Process of Killing a Dog

It should be the only way to kill a dog.
Today at 10:25 am, unit 3, south row,
Jindingshan farmers’ market, in front of the last booth
a dog snuggled at the feet of its master, lifted its head
looking at the busy market. Occasionally,
its long tongue licked the master’s pants.
Master stroked its head as if to straighten
the collar of his child soon to travel far.
Such warmth didn’t last long.
Master hugged the dog’s head, 
thrust a long blade into its neck.
Dog screamed as if a red scarf was fastened
on its neck.  It quickly leaped
onto a pile of firewood next to the shop…
Master beckoned the dog. It crawled back
and nestled at the feet of its master again,
trembling slightly. Master stroked its head again
as if to dress a cut of an injured child.
Just a moment of warmth. Once again 
Master’s blade went into its neck
same strength, same location. Dog choked
as if a small red flag plugged into its neck. 
It limped to the pile of firewood next to the shop.
Master beckoned the dog again. It crawled back again
— five times until it died
crawling back to its master.  Smelling its own blood, 
it learned the magic power of annihilation. 
At 11:20 am, Master began to hawk the dog’s meat.
While waiting on line, many customers talked
about the dog’s gradual weakened quivering
And its cramping spine. They said, it looked no different from
a wanderer returning home for his own funeral.

集体主义的虫叫

窃窃私语或鼓腹而鸣,整座森林
没有留下一丝空余。唯一听出的是青蛙
它们身体大一点,离人近一点
叫声,相对也更有统治力
整整一个晚上,坐在树上旅馆的床上
我总是觉得,阴差阳错,自己闯入了
昆虫世界愤怒的集中营,四周
无限辽阔的四周,全部高举着密集的
努力张大的嘴,眼睛圆睁,胸怀起伏
叫,是大叫,恶狠狠地叫,叫声里
翻飞着带出的心肝和肺。我多次
打开房门,走到外面,想知道
除了蛙,都是些什么在叫,为什么
要这么叫。黑黝黝的森林、夜幕
都由叫声组成,而我休想
在一根树枝上,找到一个叫声的发源地。
尽管这根树枝,它的每张叶子,上面
都掉满了舌头和牙齿。我不认为
那是静谧,也非天籁,排除本能
和无意识,排除个体的恐惧和集体
的焦虑,我乐于接受这样的观点:森林
太大,太黑,每只虫子,只有叫
才能明确自己的身份,也才能
传达自己所在位置。天亮了
虫声式微,离开旅馆的时候,我听到
一声接一声的猿啼。这些伟大的
体操运动员,在林间,腾挪,飞纵
空翻,然后,叫,也是大叫
一样的不管不顾,一样的撕心裂肺

The Call of Collectivist Creatures

Whispers or beating of drums, the whole forest
is filled. Only croaking can be heard.
Frogs are bigger and nearer, their croaking, more commanding.
All night, sitting on a bed in a treehouse hotel
I keep thinking that I’ve stepped into a concentration camp
of furious species: an unbound, vast space, jammed with
gaping mouths, googling eyes, undulating chests.
Their screams and shouts rolling, hearts and lungs out.
I open the door, go out, wondering who else is making noise
and why they scream this way.
The darkened forest and the night fill with their calls,
but I can’t find the source of the sound,
though each branch, each leaf teems with tongues and teeth.
Not an element of tranquility, no the sound of nature
nor instincts or unconsciousness, nor individual fear 
or collective anxiousness, I rather believe that
the forest is too deep, too dark — only by its call,
can each creature show its identity, declare its location.
At daybreak, all is quiet. Leaving my hotel,
I hear a roll of long screams of apes, one after another. 
These great gymnasts of the forest maneuver,
fly vertically, somersault, then scream loudly
with the same indifference, and the same heartrending force.

【谢炯话翻译】 雷平阳的现实主义叙事诗呈现奇怪的难度。他的诗如剑兰叶一般锐利,特别是他最出名的两首叙事诗“杀狗的过程”和“集体主义的虫叫”,不管怎么改,总是感到什么地方不妥。我有时彻夜不眠地琢磨,误区到底在哪里?难道是我的内心没有强大到像雷平阳一样可以把残酷的现实写进诗里?他那些执迷不悟的可悲的家狗,和恶声恶气大叫的青蛙着实我不舒服。但这就是他的风格,你不得不佩服他的率真,独特和大胆。 (节选自THIRTEEN LEAVES出版后记)

亲人

我只爱我寄宿的云南,因为其他省
我都不爱;我只爱云南的昭通市
因为其他市我都不爱;我只爱昭通市的土城乡
因为其他乡我都不爱……
我的爱狭隘、偏执,像针尖上的蜂蜜
假如有一天我再不能继续下去
我会只爱我的亲人——这逐渐缩小的过程
耗尽了我的青春和悲悯

My Beloved

Of all the provinces, I only love Yunnan, my temporary hom
because I love no other province;
Of all the cities in Yunnan, I only love Zhaotong
because I love no other city;
Of all the towns in Zhaotong, I only love Tuchen
because I love no other town …
My love is narrow, stubborn,
like honey on the tip of a needle.
If one day I can’t go on, I will only love my beloved
— this gradual contraction
exhausts my youth and compassion.

第五叶: 汤养宗 | TANG YANGZONG

TANG YANGZONG: Born in Bailu, Fujian in 1959, Tang Yangzong has published seven poetry collections, including Gypsy on the Water, The Blackest White, Stunner, Eleven Letters to Heaven, Go to Human World, Chessboard Maker and Great Feast for One Selected Poems of Tang Yangzhong from 1984 to 2015. He has won numerous awards including the People’s Literature Award and China’s Annual Best Poetry Award.

 

钉子钉在钉孔中是孤独的

一想到天下的钉子这刻正钉在各自的
钉孔中,就悲从中来,喘不过气
一想到它们,正被自己的命夹住
在一头黑到底中
永不见天日,再无法脱身
便立即抬腿,想拔地而起,奔向天涯路
如你我的深陷,这器
偏爱囹圄,甘于委身
给自己挖井,去找要打进去的部位,去活埋
去黑暗内部,接受
时光指定的刑期。一进去就黑到底

A Nail in the Hole is aLonely Nail

Thinking that all nails in this world are deep
in their own separate holes, you are sad and out of breath.
Thinking of how they are caught by their own fates
in the darkness, never seen the day light, unable to get out,
you want to get up immediately, run to the end of the world.
Like us, nail commits itself to the hole, its own deep well.
It finds a place to enter, enter and then to be buried alive.
It must go to the core of the darkness
to accept the sentence passed down by time, forever.

一个人大摆宴席

一个人无事,就一个人大摆宴席,一个人举杯
对着门前上上下下的电梯,对着圣明的谁与倨傲的谁
向四面空气,自言,自语
不让明月,也决不让东风
头顶星光灿烂,那是多么遥远的一地鸡毛
我无群无党,长有第十一只指头
能随手从身体中摸出一个王,要他在对面空椅上坐下
要他喝下我让出的这一杯

The Great Feast for One

Alone, nothing to do, I fix a great feast for myself.
I toast to the moving lift, a wise and haughty one,
four directions of the wind, murmuring.
I refuse to yield to the bright moon nor to the east wind.
How far away those brilliance of the stars
just like tangled chicken feathers all over the ground.
I don’t belong to any group or party. With my eleventh finger,
I can call a King out of me, and order him to sit on that vacantchair
and gulp down a cup of wine I yield to him.

【谢炯话翻译】 汤养宗的诗接近散文体,和我自身的简约风格距离较远,我翻译了十首,却一首都不满意。后来改了又改,至今还是不满意。 (节选自THIRTEEN LEAVES出版后记)

父亲与草

我父亲说草是除不完的
他在地里锄了一辈子草
他死后,草又在他坟头长了出来。

Father and Weeds

Father used to say that weeds can’t be eradicated completely.
He hoed out weeds his entire life.
After he died, weeds grew over his grave, again.

第六叶:蓝蓝| LAN LAN

Lan Lan:originally named Hu Lanlan, was born in Yantai, Shandong province in 1967. Her numerous awards include the Liu Lian Poetry Prize, “Poetry and People” International Poetry Award, Yuan Kejia Poetry Award, New Century Best Young Female Poet, and 2017 Chinese Literature Media Award Best Poet of the Year. First published when she was 14, Lan Lan is the author of more than ten poetry collections, essay collections and children literature.

 

大滩的雪

 这是我的清晨。
一队沉默的马匹从窗外的雪地走过。

这是我的马。
它远远站在路口。

等着它的小马驹,一步一步
朝这边走过来。

远远的路口,站着我的牛
一动不动等着它的小牛犊。

一步一步,它们走过来。
那是在大滩的修理厂旁边。

那是黄昏时的道路。
那是清晨的马匹带走我的道路。

车里响着田园交响曲。
马和牛的蹄声多寂静。

音乐,音乐是对它们羞愧的歌颂
一群羊来了。我的羊群滚滚

是一群黑蛋蛋在雪地的发蓝里。
放羊人背着干粮,风吹着他的破围巾。

我的马和牛,我的小羊羔。
我是那脏兮兮的羊。带着小崽子的马和牛
在大雪中一步一步地走。

雪,拉开了生命的大幕
牲口们缓缓地来,缓缓地消失在风雪中。

那样大的草滩。那样大的雪。

今生再也不会有。

Snow on the Great Prairie

Early morning, on the snow
a team of horses passes my window quietly.

My horse
stands a way off at the crossroad

waiting for her colt, step by step
to come to her.

My cow far away at the crossroa
stands still, waiting for her calf

step by step to come to her.
Next to the repair shop on the great prairie

on the road at dusk
at dawn it carries me away on horseback. 

A pastoral symphony rings out in the car
the silent horse and cow walk on.

Music, music, in bashful praise of them.
A flock of sheep arrives. My flock

a group of black eggs roll on the blue snow.
A shepherd carries his solid food; a worn scarf blows in the wind.

My horse and cow. My little sheep
dirty little sheep. My horse and cow
lead their colt and calf, passing through snow, step by step.

Snow opens the curtain of life
The livestock slowly arrive and disappear into the blizzard.

What a vast great grass land! What a heavy snow!

Never again in my life.

白杨树

白杨树,我想成为你毛茸茸的叶子。
当你笔挺站立,我想成为你闪亮的颤动。

你在风中起舞,
我想成为你嘹亮的嗓音
歌唱九月高阔的天空;

当你钻入云天,我是你脊柱的力
是你根须里隐秘的泉水;

当你对大地说着飞雪
我顷刻成为你滚烫的新娘,
在落叶中成为篝火的上升。

我是你收集的蓝色闪电,
是你岁月的速记员;
我是你杨穗产床的合唱队
当你在春天长出毛茸茸的叶子——

Poplar Tree

Poplar, I want to be your velvet leaves.
When you stand straight
I want to be that shiny flutter.

When you dance in the wind
I want to be that bright voice
singing September sky, high and vast.

When you vanish into the sk
I am the strength in your spine
and a secret springtime in your root.

When you say snow to the earth
I am your fiery instant bride
and a bonfire from the falling leaves.

I am the blue lightning you collected
a stenographer of your past and a choir at your birth bed
when the velvet leaves of yours was born in the spring —       

【谢炯话翻译】 蓝蓝的诗情感饱满,又着丰富的音质,把旋律控制好是翻译蓝蓝诗歌至关重要的一步。我往往在翻译蓝蓝时先翻出她的主旋律,然后再围绕主调翻译变奏。 (节选自THIRTEEN LEAVES出版后记)

对德国诗人说

如果一个人爱上了一匹马
那么他们就会成为一个马人
从古希腊的山林里走出来

在古代的中国,两个不幸的恋人
活着时不能在一起
他们就会变成蝴蝶飞到田野里去
那是人间的帝王无法管辖的地方

我曾幻想长出翅膀,在天空飞
现在,你知道,我成了一个诗人

如果我愿意,我能飞到南极或
喜马拉雅山的雪峰,借助
那些诗句——它们无所不能

想象生下它们。——想象是什么?
是渴望融入另一个人或事物的爱

写诗,就是通往善的道路
而善良就是对他人的痛苦的想象力

Words to a German Poet

If a man fell in love with a horse,
he would be a centau
from an ancient Greek mountain forest.

If two unfortunate lovers couldn’t
be together in ancient China
they would turn into wild butterflies.
No king could reach or rule them.

I used to imagine growing wings.
Now, I am a poet.

If I want, I can fly above Antarctica
or the Himalayas, on the wings
of verse – omnipotent.

Born out of my imagination — a desire to love,
to melt into another person or thing.
Poetry is a path to kindness
and kindness is the imagination of others’ suffering.

第七叶:王家新| WANG JIAXIN

WANG JIAXIN: Born in Hubei province, China in 1957, Wang Jiaxin was “sent down” after high school to hard labor in the countryside during the Cultural Revolution. Later he studied literature at Wuhan University, becoming a teacher and literary editor. He is currently professor of literature at Renmin University of China in Beijing. Eminent among contemporary Chinese poets and essayists, he has received numerous awards, and his works have been selected for major anthologies and college textbooks in China.  Wang Jiaxin is a former Luce Poet-in-Residence at Colgate University, and 2013 resident poet of International Writing Program at University of Iowa, and the author of more than 50 collections of poetry and essays, as well as being a prolific anthologist. Gotland’s Dusk, his selected volume of poetry in German was published in 2011. Darkening Mirror, his full-length volume of poetry in English with a foreword written by Robert Hass was published in 2016. Wang is also a winner of the 4th Changwon KC International Poetry and Literature Award in 2017.

 

飞越阿尔卑斯

从法兰克福到萨格勒
飞机飞越阿尔卑斯

雪峰之寒
使大气清澈

一道道冰刃
似可划破机舱的肚子

但我仍想挨得更近些,我带着
一只盛雪的锡制杯子

然后是绵延的墨绿色山岭
冰川的旁注之诗

是变红变黄的杂树层林
是云彩下童话般的房子

一个孩子在我身上醒来
在冰与火中颤栗

Flying Over the Alps

Flying over the Alps
from Frankfurt to Zagreb

The snow peaks’ chill
purifies the air

Their iced blades nearly
slice the belly of the plane

But I wish to get closer still
carrying a tin cup for snow

The endless stretch of dark green mountains
footnotes to a poem for glaciers

Forests turn yellow and red
Fairy tale houses under the clouds

Awakened, a child within me
quivers in the fire and ice

海德堡,哲人小路

秋天比我更先来到这里。
雨后椴树飘零,
沿路攀行的人抹汗,
荷尔德林当年经过的葡萄园,
枝叶一片惨红
就在这片“形而上的斜坡”上,
先知看到老桥上的自己
和他歌唱的德国的青春,
但他没看到一个名叫
曼德尔施塔姆的俄国诗人
多年后从这里走向了断头台,
更不会想到在满城的效忠声中,
雅思贝尔斯——他的另一个—
会因为犹太妻子失去教职……
德意志,你的“天命”何在?
人与神的和谐在哪里
而对于一个疯子,古堡的巍峨
和夜半的蓝色又有何意义?
内卡河不像当年汹涌,但仍在山下奔流。
游子归来,未带回痛苦的财富。
只有山栗树在我们头上不时炸裂,
板栗被路人拾去,
满地苦涩的坚果,留
无人时分的松鼠……

Heidelberg, the Philosopher’s Walk

Autumn arrived before me
After the rain, the poplars droop low.
People climb along the path, wiping their sweat.
Fallen leaves and branches blush in misery
in the vineyard where Hölderlin once strode.
From this “Slope of Metaphysics,
the prophet saw himself on the old bridge
with the youth of Germany whose praise he sang.
But he never foresa
that years later the Russian poet Mandelstam
would walk from here to his execution.
Nor did he know when pledges of loyalty filled the city,
that Jaspers *— his other peer —
would lose his teaching post for marrying a Jew…
Germany, what was your “destiny”?
Where was the harmony between man and God
To a madman, what do a majestic castl
and midnight blue even mean?
The Neckar river, no longer as turbulent, runs down the hill
A wanderer returns home but brings no wealth of misery with him.
Only the chestnut tree, from time to time, bursts above us,
All chestnuts are taken by passersby except the bitter ones,
Squirrels emerge when no one is around …

*Karl Theodor Jaspers (1883-1969) was a German-Swiss psychiatrist and philosopher. 

【谢炯话翻译】 要想把一首句子特别长而拗口的诗翻译得气韵生动非常不容易。诗歌翻译是件非常奇妙的事情,明明每个翻出来的字都准确,语法无误,连意思也翻得清清楚楚,却无法在另一种语言里生龙活虎起来成为诗。这令我想起童话“木偶奇遇记“。你造好了木偶,上了最美丽的漆,鼻子眼睛都刻的一板一眼的,到最后,需要一口气将木偶吹活。 而活的东西,之所以活,有时恰恰活在引人注目的不完美之中。 (节选自THIRTEEN LEAVES出版后记)

一碗米饭

在平昌
中午,一碗米饭
傍晚,米饭一碗

有时配上大酱汤
有时配上一碟泡菜

或是一碟小鱼
或是几片油渍芝麻叶

而我不得不学着盘腿而坐
我的低矮餐桌
我的乌木酱碗

      我也从来没有像现在这样
注视着一件事物

我的筷子在感恩
我的喉结蠕动

我必然的前生
一碗米饭
我偶然的来世
一碗米饭

我在远方的托钵僧
一碗米饭
我的囚牢里的兄弟
一碗米饭

似乎我们一生的辛劳
就为了接近这一碗米饭

碗空了
碗在

我的旅途,我的雨夜
我的绿与黄
我的三千里阳光
在这里
化为了一碗米饭

  A Bowl of Rice

In Pyeongchang
noon, a bowl of rice
nightfall, a bowl of rice

sometimes, with miso soup
sometimes, a dish of pickles

or a small dish of fish
or a few pieces of oily sesame leaves

I had to learn to sit cross-legged at a low table
with an ebony sauce bowl

I’ve never been so focused on
just one thing
the chopsticks conveyed gratitud
                 as I ate slowly with knotted throat                 

my fated prior life
a bowl of rice
my accidental after-life
a bowl of rice

my mendicant monks in a faraway land
a bowl of rice
my brothers in prison
a bowl of rice

as if our lifetime of hard labor
is just for this bowl of rice

my journey my rainy night
my green and yellow
my three thousand miles of sunshine
is just a bowl of rice

第八叶:李少君| LI SHAOJUN

LI SHAOJUN: A native of Xiangxiang, Hunan province, Li Shaojun graduated from Wuhan University, majoring in journalism. He served as chief editor of Tianya magazine and is now associate editor in chief of Poetry Journal, one of the leading poetry journals in China. Best known for his poems of the natural world, his collections include Nature Collection, Grass Root Collection and Blue Bar.

 

傍晚

傍晚,吃饭
我出去喊仍在林子里散步的老父亲
夜色正一点一点地渗透
黑暗如墨汁在宣纸上蔓延
我每喊一声,夜色就被推开推远一点点
喊声一停,夜色又聚集围拢了过来

我喊父亲的声音
在林子里久久回响
又在风中如波纹般荡漾开来

父亲的答应声
使夜色似乎明亮了一下

Nightfall

Nightfall, time for dinner.
I go out to the woods, calling my old father.
The night is seeping through little by little, the darkness diffuses
like ink on rice paper.
With each call, the night is pushed out a little further;
with each pause, it gathers again.

My call
echoes long in the wood
then ripples out in the wind like waves.

For a moment, my father’s answer
seems to brighten the darkness.

荒漠上的奇迹 

对于荒漠来说
草是奇迹,雨也是奇迹
神很容易就在小事物之中显灵

荒漠上的奇迹总是比别处多
比如鸣沙山下永不干凅的月牙泉
比如三危山上无水也摇曳生姿的变色花

荒漠上还有一些别的奇迹
比如葡萄特别甜,西瓜格外大
牛羊总是肥壮,歌声永远悠扬

荒漠上还有一些奇迹
是你,一个偶尔路过的人创造的……

Miracles in the Desert

In the desert,
a blade of grass is a miracle, so is a drop of rain.
God’s sign is easily shown in all small things.

The desert always bears more miracles than other places.
At the foot of Mingsha mountain, Crescent Spring never dries.
At the top of Sanwei hill, the color-changing flower never withers.

The desert always creates more miracles.
Sweeter grapes, bigger watermelons.
Stouter cattle and sheep and melodies that last forever.

The desert also has some miracles
created by you, lucky traveler…

【谢炯话翻译】 每一首诗都有一个内核,翻译一首诗,就是要拨开枝叶,深入到这个核心。在很多诗歌中,内核往往包裹在盘根错节的语言中深藏不露,只有认识诗人,了解诗人,才能真正走入诗人灵魂的迷宫。 (节选自THIRTEEN LEAVES出版后记)

寂静

这小地方的寂静是骨子里的 
河中流淌的春水,巷子里的青石板 
篱笆间的藤与草,墙头的一只小鸟 
一切,都深深地隐含着寂静 

寂静的 
还有那个空空的青花瓷瓶 
等待着一枝梅或者一朵桃花的插入 

寂静的,还有孩子们敲打门窗的声音 
——寂静,是敲打出来的

Tranquility 

The tranquility of this small place is in its bone:
the spring water runs in the river, flagstones paved along the alley,
vines and weeds climb the fence, and a bird hops on the wall.
All have tranquility in them.

The tranquility is also
in that empty blue and white porcelain vase
waiting, for a peach flower or a twig of plum blossom.

More, the tranquility is in the sound of knocking by children
— it’s made by knocking on the doors and windows.

第九叶:古马| GUMA

GUMA: was born in 1966 in Wuwei, Gansu, a province in north-central China, bordering the Mongolian plateau. He has published several poetry collections including Rouge and Horns, Ancient Horse West Wind, Poems of Guma, Red Lantern on Ink, Song of Setting Sun and Source of Big River. He lives in Lanzhou, capital of Gansu province. Much of his poetry draws inspiration from natural world and landscape of his native region.

 

春夜

眼睛沉溺于眼睛
嘴唇寻找着嘴唇
交换漩涡交换身
河水涌流星光

柳丝蘸水
从灰尘中捧出雷
杏花
素处以默

春夜广大
河水浩荡
他们穿过针眼
旋转于群星和疯狂的石头当中

 Spring Night

Eyes addicted to eyes
lips seeking lips
trading body for body, vortex for vortex
river surges with stars.

Willow dips in water
dust delivers thunder
apricot flowers
are silent in the void.

Vast, the spring night
a mighty river
passes through the eye of a needle
and rotates among stars and crazed stones.

失眠

没有人,没有人在厚重的墙壁上
用手指画一扇窗,很小很小的
一扇窗

一只发红的灯泡
在我的头脑中
像烫人的眼睛整夜盯着我
但我摸不到开关
那个离开我的人
甚至带走了我所渴望的一点儿黑暗

 Insomnia

No one has drawn a window with his finger
on the massive wall, even a tiny
tiny window — no one.

A red light in my mind
stares its fierce eye at me all night.
But I can’t find the switch
the one who left me
even took away the darkness that I long for.

【谢炯话翻译】 我想一个自觉的写作者和翻译者,对不成熟的不完美的部分有类似身体的不舒服感,我经常半夜醒来恍然大悟一句诗应该翻成什么样。 (节选自THIRTEEN LEAVES出版后记)

秋天颂

秋天总是比故宫深
天不亮就有人清扫落叶
从南河沿大街到长安大街

那些堆积的败叶
如同被处理的上访信件
有让乌鸦不安的气味

乌鸦叫
乌鸦夹带着金銮殿的金黄
祈求平安

他们说北京金色的秋天很美
而你只指西山   指说西山
枫叶烂红 红得如同
落日的颂辞

Ode to Autumn

Autumn, deeper than the Forbidden City
Dawn, someone has already swept the avenues
of fallen leaves, from Nanheyan to Chang’an.

Those piled leaves
like reviewed petition letters
hold odors disturbing to crows.

Crows call
carrying gold from the Hall of Golden Throne
to pray for peace.

They say autumn is golden and beautiful in Beijing
but you only recall the mountain of Xi.
Maples are red enough to be
an ode to the sunset.

第十叶:阿信| ARXIN

ARXIN: Born in 1964 in Linqu, Gansu province, Arxin studied history and has long worked in the Gannan Tibetan area. Beginning in the mid-1980’s, he began writing poetry and participated in the 14th “Youth Poetry Conference” of Poetry Journal. His poetry collections include Arxin’s Poetry, Psalms of the Grasslands, To Friends and Those Years at the Bank of Sanduo River. He has won numerous awards including the Xu Zhimo Poetry Prize, the Western Literature Award, Dunhuang Literary Award and the Yellow River Literature Award. His poem “Hequ Horse Ranch” was selected as one of “The Ten Best Poems of 2017″.

 

河曲马场

仅仅二十年,那些
林间的马,河边的马,雨水中
脊背发光的马,与幼驹一起
在逆光中静静啮食时间的马,
三五成群,长鬃垂向暮晚和
河风的马,远雷一样
从天边滚过的马……一匹也看不见了。
有人说,马在这个时代是彻底没用了,
连牧人都不愿再牧养它们。
而我在想:人不需要的,也许
神还需要!
在天空,在高高的云端,
我看见它们在那里。我可以把它们
一匹匹牵出来。

Hequ Horse Ranch

In just two decades, those
forest horses, river horses,
horses with shining backs in the rain,
and horses with their foals, grazing so still,
silhouetted against the light;
those groups of three or five, their long manes
hanging in the dusk and river wind
rolled over the sky like distant thunders…
none is there today.
Some people say,
Horses are utterly useless now.
Even wranglers don’t want them.
But I wonder:
Maybe God still needs them!
In the sky, in the lofty clouds,
I see them there. I can ride them out
one by one.

卸甲寺志补遗

埋下马蹄铁、豹皮囊和废灯盏。
埋下旌旗、鸟骨、甲胄和一场
提前到来的雪。
那个坐领月光、伤重不愈的人,
最后时刻,密令我们把鹰召回,
赶着畜群,摸黑趟过桑多河。

那一年,经幡树立,寺院落成。
那一年,秋日盛大,内心成灰。

 Addendum to the Temple Xiejia Registry

Buried a horseshoe, leopard-skin bag, a rusty lamp
flags, bird-bones, armor and an early snow
a badly-injured man, under moonlight
ordered us to call back the eagle
drive the herd, ford the Sanduo river
before he died. 

That year the banner was raised, the temple completed.
That year autumn was vast, my heart reduced to ashes.      

【谢炯话翻译】 翻译的尺度非常难掌控,一个母语是中文的翻译者,中译英,容易被中文原诗的词语,文法和句式绑架,因为语言有先入为主的功效,读完以后,不受其影响不可能,所以母语是中文的翻译者中译英,翻出来的英文往往太贴近中文,缺乏英文的诗意和美感。而一个母语不是中文的翻译者,非常容易走入意译的歧途,歪曲原诗意思而浑然不知,导致“过度翻译“的现象。 (节选自THIRTEEN LEAVES出版后记)

一具雕花马鞍

黎明在铜饰的乌巴拉花瓣上凝结露水。
河水暗涨。酒精烧坏的大脑被一缕
冰凉晨风洞穿。
……雕花宛然。凹型鞍槽,光滑细腻——
那上面,曾蒙着一层薄薄的霜雪。
錾花技艺几已失传。
敲铜的手
化作蓝烟。
骑手和骏马,下落不明。
草原的黎明之境:一具雕花马鞍。
一半浸入河水和泥沙;一半
辨认着我。
辨认着我,在古老的析支河边。

Flower-etched Saddle

Dawn condensed to dew on the Uballa flower etching,
the river was secretly rising,
a drunken mind has been cooled by a chilled morning wind.
… The flower etched on a concave saddle, delicate and smooth …
its surface covered with a thin layer of frost and snow
leather etching is a lost art,
copper-beating hands have long vanished,
like blue smoke. Rider and his horse, nowhere to be found.
Dawn on the prairie: a flower-etched saddle
half dips into a river and its silt
half recognizes me.
It recognizes me, on the bank of ancient Xizhi river.

十一叶:于坚| YU JIAN

YU JIAN: Poet, essayist, photographer and documentary film maker, Yu Jian was born in Kunming, Yunnan province in 1954, where he continues to live. In more than four decades, he has published over forty collections of poetry, photography and essays. In 1986, he and his colleagues started an underground literary magazine, They.  His numerous literary awards include the Taiwan “United Daily News” 14th New Poetry Prize, Lu Xun Literature Award, the Zhu Ziqing Prose Award and The 15th Chinese Literature Media Awards Annual Outstanding Writer Award. His documentary film “Green Station” was nominated for Amsterdam International Documentary Silver Wolf Award (2004).  The English version of his collection, Flash Cards was nominated for the Best Book Translation Award (2011) in the United States.  The German version of his collection of poetry, File Zero, won the German Association for the Promotion of Asian, African and Latin American Literature’s “World Experiences” Prize. His photographic work won the National Geographic Magazine Global Photography Competition Huaxia Gold Medal. He is currently a literature professor at Yunnan Normal University College of Arts in Kunming.

 

赦免

玉米亮了  羊群更活跃 
石榴园初显黯淡  谷仓敞开大门 
橡木酒桶闪着光辉  天空高蓝
马车昂首跑向田野  蚂蚱在飞
河流退去  石头出现在深渊
落叶滚滚  手拉手走回大地
一切都朝终点涌去  如果你还在路上 
你也要加入  如果你还没有镰刀 
你去向落日讨一把  如果你还没有头发
风会抓住你的头顶  无论谁都可以收割 
无论谁都会收获  收获粮食  收获忧伤 
收获死亡  这是秋天  盛大慈悲的秋天 
神已经赦免了贫乏

Pardon   

The corn brightens, flocks of goats are more animated.
The pomegranate orchard begins to dim, and the barn is open.
Oak wine barrels flash brilliant light. The sky, high and blue.
A horse wagon heads to the field, grasshoppers fly.
The river recedes, stones appear in the abyss
Leaves, hand in hand, fall back to earth.
Everything gushes toward the finishing line.
If you are still on the road, you too must join.
If you have no sickle, borrow one from the setting sun.
If you have no hair, the wind will grab your skull.
Anyone can harvest. Anyone will win food or sadness,
or death.  This is autumn, vast and merciful autumn,
God has pardoned those who have none.

祖国

我怀念你的青天  你的明月
我怀念你的池塘  你田野上的蛙鸣
怀念你的大江  你的群山你的白雪
你平原上的老牛和小路  怀念你的锄头
我怀念那些穿着长衫走进落日的影子
我怀念你黑暗的夜  你的灯
我怀念你的桥和四合院
你绣满梅花的春天和安静的秋日
我怀念你后花园里的石头和柳树
怀念画栋雕梁下那些素面朝天的女子
我怀念你的祖母和庙宇
那些坐在溪流边上的高僧大德
我怀念你的骏马和英雄  怀念你的宝剑
怀念那些伟大的农夫和快乐的匠人
我怀念你的酒  你的笔墨  你的尺规
在这傍晚的高铁车站  未来在检票
怀念着你的鬼魂
我拖着虚无的行旅和悲伤的心

Motherland 

I miss your blue sky your moon
your pond, frogs croaking in the field
rivers, mountains and snow
your old ox on the plain and narrow paths.
I miss your hoes, those gown-wearing shadows
in the twilight, those dark nights, and lamps
bridges, courtyards, plum springs and quiet autumns
I miss your stones and willows at the backyard
those simple women staring up the sky
under the painted beams.
I miss your grandmas and temples
noble monks sitting by the stream.
I miss your horse, hero and sword
great farmers and happy craftsmen.
I miss your wine, pen and ink, your rulers.
Now at nightfall, on the platform of high-speed train statio
passing a check point to the future
I drag my empty suitcase and a sad heart
while missing your ghosts.

【谢炯话翻译】 不管现代新诗发展到什么程度,是否更加接近散文体,时髦什么样的流派,我个人对传统诗歌形式历来情有独钟,读得最多的还是聂鲁达,泰戈尔的诗。在翻译于坚时,我千方百计想保留的就是他原诗中那股回肠荡气的情感之力。 (节选自THIRTEEN LEAVES出版后记)

一只乌鸦站在夜晚的高原上

一只乌鸦站在夜晚的高原上
黑暗军团的包围  使它相形见绌 
接近黑暗但不是  它一生都将被组织拒
它没有飞走   就像那些无法进入天堂的恶棍
只是飞离柏树  落到桉树之上  

A Crow Stands on the Plateau at Night  

 A crow stands on the plateau at night,
surrounded, dwarfed by the army of darkness,
but it can’t be part of it, despite being so near.
It will be rejected by the organization in its lifetime,
but it doesn’t fly away.  Like a villain who can’t go to heaven,
it flies from the cedar, and lands on top of the eucalyptus.

十二叶:潘维| PAN WEI

Pan Wei was born in 1964, in Huzhou, Zhejiang province, 90 miles west of Shanghai. He has published several collections of poetry including The Selected Poems of Pan Wei, Things about Water and Plum Wine. His works have been translated into many languages and he has won numerous awards, including the Rougang Poetry Award, Taiwan Poetry Award, the Poetry Journal Poet of the Year Award, and the Wen Yiduo Poetry Award. He lives in Hangzhou, Zhejiang.

 

那无限的援军从不抵达

从生到死
那无限的援军从不抵达

从孤寂到喧嚣

没有一片树叶抬头
光线的钉子钉入我们的器官
我家乡的风光被缝织在茅屋与阴湿的冻土上

而透过丝绸轻柔的压迫
那些乳房,少女们的乳房
正和根须一道喘息
用疲倦、雨声、山谷哺育着一片醉酒的和谐

而我在秋天的怀里哭泣
我松开火焰的缰绳,水的马蹄
让骄傲把人类的第三只眼睛踩瞎
我保存了最后一滴贵族的血

That Infinite Reinforcement Never Arrived

From birth to death
That infinite reinforcement never arrived

From loneliness to turmoil

No leave would lift itself to let light into our organs
My hometown scenery is stitched to a mud hut and frozen soil.

And under the gentle weight of silk
The girl’s breasts are panting with the tree roots.
The sound of rain, valley, and tiredness drink harmoniously.

And I cry in the arms of the autumn
And I liberate the reins of the fire, the horseshoe of the water
And I let my pride blind humans’ third eye

And I save the last drop of aristocratic blood.

离开

 离开,让一杯绿酒离开老虎,
它会吞吃空气,

它已把灯盏吞吃得甜苦明灭,
一座紫禁城。

斑斓的话语,
春天了。

身体拖跃着柔软,
力,用什么来量它。

离开了,老虎,离开了,世界。
在春天。

只有离开是我的
财产。

Leaving

  Leave. Let a cup of grass wine leave tiger.
It can swallow air.

It has eaten the lamp and sweetness and bitterness
And a Forbidden City.

Spotted words
Spring.

Body leaps softly.
Force. What could it be measured?

Left, tiger.  Left, the world.
Left in Spring.

My only asset
Is the act of leaving.

【谢炯话翻译】我在完成翻译初稿后,往往将中文原诗和翻译束之高阁,过一段时间后,再翻出来修改。修改时,中文原诗的冲击力基本已经淡化,甚至忘记了。 (节选自THIRTEEN LEAVES出版后记)

春天不在

春天不在,接待我的是一把水壶
倾注出整座小镇。寂静
柔软地搭在椅背上。我听见
女孩子一个个掉落,摔得粉碎

春天不在,树木在消瘦
旅店的床单震颤出薄薄的爱情
雨,滴入内心。如一个走门串户的长舌妇
一下午,就消灭了几屋子的耳朵

Spring Is Not at Home

Spring is not at home, a kettle greets me.
It pours out the entire town. Resting softly
on the chair back in silence, I hear
the sound of girls falling, one by one, to pieces.

Spring is not at home, trees are thin.
Between hotel bed sheets, a thin love quivers.
Rain drips into the heart
like a long-tongued woman going door to door.
In one afternoon, she silences all ears in several rooms.

十三叶:池凌云| CHI LINGYUN

CHI LINGYUN: was born in Ruian, Wenzhou in 1966. She has worked as a teacher, journalist and editor. She is the author of the poetry collections Flying Snow, One Man’s Dialogue, The Selected Poems of Chi Lingyun and Sneak Light.

 

从一座房子到另一座房子

从一座房子到另一座房子
再也找不到一个熟悉的人
这是一个什么游戏啊——

我们曾轮番躲在衣柜里
不出声,不让别人找到我们
一切爱所需的训练:看谁的孤独更持久。

后来,我们忘记了要去找到对方
习惯了默默无闻地生活
宛如躲在一个大箱子里。

然而,这一次是最后一次
我知道,你再也不会来找我
我们早已是没有名字的失踪者。

From One House to Another

From one house to another
never able to find a familiar face.
What kind of game is this? —

We used to hide in turns in a closet.
Hushed, let no one find us — a training
necessary for all lovers: who lasts longer in solitude.

Later we forgot to look for each other,
so used to living quietly
as if hiding in a big box.

But this is the last time.
I know you’ll never come to look for me again.
Already declared missing, we no longer have names.

赶灵魂

每一次我从医院门口经过
总是低着头,眼睛躲避着别的
被疾病折磨的人。

为了乞讨,残肢者露出结痂的伤口
畸形的躯体,趴在地上,
他们身边都有一个放零币的碗。
在去往医院的路上
我也无力。有一些疾病
需要赶走灵魂,躯体才能健康。

我一次次赶灵魂,不去看比我更痛苦的人。
看到他们,我的痛和孤独会加深。
而我能承受的已经有限。我关闭自己
测量这卑怯……骤然而来的沉默。

我感到羞耻。身后,他们早已消失,
没有人知道我的贫乏——这难以完成的
苦涩有限的爱。

 Chasing Away My Soul

Passing through the hospital entrance,
I often lower my head, dodging those
tortured by illness.

Kneeling on the ground,
beggars display their scars and deformed bodies,
bowls there for coins.
I feel powerless.
To cure some diseases,
one must chase away one’s soul.

I chase away my soul again and again, so as
not to see those who suffer more than me.
Seeing them, my agony and solitude will only deepen,
and my tolerance will reach its limit.  I shut off,
measure my fragility… sudden silence.

I am ashamed. Behind me, they have long disappeared.
No one knows my inadequacy — this inexpressible
bitter and limited love.

【謝炯話翻譯】 如果把这本书比作一棵树,那么这是一棵奇怪的树,无法清晰地描绘。就像池凌云曾经在诗中写的,你必须“到一棵树中去”才会看清。无法想象那些走进这棵树的人,看到十三片不同的叶子后会怎么想。也许,他们会突然忘记叶子,看到一棵完整的树。 (节选自THIRTEEN LEAVES出版后记)

到一棵树中去

我无法描绘一棵树
它的憧憬引来永无终结的风
所以,到一棵树中去。

我不了解毫无保留的枝杈
那绿色,像要记录下什么
所以,到一棵树中去。

要医治一天的扭曲和贫乏
轻易就熄灭的火,被一个念头捆住
所以,到一棵树中去。

它比我看得更清楚——
生命之美深藏于根须和落叶
空气和土壤互相唤醒,获得新的素质
所以,到一棵树中去。

To a Tree

I can’t describe a tree and its longing
that attracts the endless wind.
So, we must go to a tree.

I can’t understand the giving branches and its green
that may record something.
So, we must go to a tree.

To heal a day’s distortion and tedium,
save those easily extinguished fires, free from a thought,
we must go to a tree.

The tree sees things more clear than I do —
the life’s beauty is hidden deeply in its roots and fallen leaves.
Air and soil wake each other and gain new elements.
So, we must go to a tree.

谢炯|JOAN XIE & SAM PERKINS

Joan Xie was born in Shanghai, China. She graduated from Shanghai Jiaotong University in 1987. Joan Xie came to the United States in 1988 to study business and law. She established her law practice in New York City in 2000. She has published several poetry and essay collections including Half-Century Journey (2015), Looking Back (2016) and Nothing Made Me Happier than Finding These Objects (2018). She won 2017 Moganshan International Poetry Festival Award in China.
Sam Perkins is a writer and poet based in New York City.  A longtime magazine editor and writer, Perkins’ nonfiction features have been widely published, notably in the New York Times. He was for many years a writer and editor for Reader’s Digest International Editions and a Senior Editor in the magazine’s European Editorial Office in Paris. Perkins attended school in France, Germany and the United States. He is co-curator of the poetry and prose reading series, Bloom Readings in New York City.

 

—出版后记—

十三片不同的叶子为什么会长到一棵树上? 
他们分别叫做陈先发,胡弦,毛子,雷平阳,蓝蓝,汤养宗,王家新,李少君,阿信,古马,潘维,池凌云,于坚。 除了都是根植于汉语土壤的中文诗,这些诗人的语言修辞各有千秋,性格南辕北辙。什么样的命运契机将他们安排在同一本翻译集里面的?什么样的巧合?我刚开始将翻译诗歌发表在自己的微信平台上时,有人曾经问我,陈先发请你翻译吗?我当时一愣,没有。不仅没有,而且陈先发再三推说不用翻译他的诗,因为有人在翻译。 那人追问道,那么你为什么去翻译? 浪费这种时间。我又一愣,在我,世界上很多事情的发生从来不需要理由,而且人类的绝大部分活动就是在浪费,甚至就是为了浪费时间。仔细想来,大凡进入翻译这行的人,多数得到了某种事先的委托,多少是出版社见某书在某国畅销,愿意花钱请翻译界权威人士翻译成本国语言。没人请我,也没人付我钱,事实上我并不是翻译领域里的人。我连走进这扇门都纯属偶然,不过看到门没关紧,自说自话推开了,但是,翻译这本诗集恰恰与我自己的创作过程休戚相关。
2016年春天,我第一次翻译中文诗歌,翻译的是陈先发的成名诗 “前世“。 陈先发见我在美国生活了几十年,又写了几首中文诗,以为我懂诗歌翻译,非常信任我。他并不知道,我处在创作初期的混乱状态。我于2014年12月重新动笔写下第一首中文诗后,欲罢不能。 毕竟我有长长的人生,从来没有写过,想写的,能写的非常多。但是,我发现自己的中文濒临消失贻尽的边缘。写中文诗初始, 靠的是所谓的“原始记忆”。写到夏天,我放弃诗歌,写了一堆微小说和散文。 夏季阳光凶猛,花果成熟之时,我又开始写诗,但改用英文写。整整一年的时间内,我不断在两种语言之间摇晃,仿佛喝醉了酒的人。不过当时,我对现代汉语诗的认识停留在大学里读的朦胧诗阶段。 
2015年秋天,复旦大学的老朋友倪剑来纽约出差,她建议我不要闷头一个人写,应该多和其他国内成名诗人交流。她说,复旦的陈先发现在是中文诗坛的佼佼者,你当年在复旦时是否应该见过他? 我对陈先发印象模糊。八十年代的校园诗歌圈非常大,凡是懂点文学的都曾写过几首诗,几乎所有人都称自己是诗人,几乎所有写诗的都在某个场合见过另一些写诗的, 当时我没有接茬,我平素不爱社交。2016年春天,我对自己的写作不甚满意,想起倪剑的建议,就找到她。她把她认识的几个中国诗人的微信和诗转发给我。我读了一些,发现三十年来现代汉语诗在修辞上,意像的缔造上,结构的运用上已经走到了我完全陌生的高度。陈先发的诗意象奇特,别出心裁。联系上陈先发后,见他对翻译有兴趣,我开始翻译他的“前世”。回想起来,一个略有经验的诗歌翻译家是不会去碰 ”前世”的。 这首没有注解的诗套用了中国传统戏剧中的“梁山伯和祝英台化蝶”的故事,而“化蝶“沉浸在中国文化中良久,早已不是简单的爱情故事,而是独有的生命轮回的文化象征。形式上,此诗多为排比句,又从古诗词中嫁接来不少形容词,人物多重,跳跃幅度过大。翻译的解说成分过多,诗意顿失,而解说不够,则一团雾水。相比陈先发后期的诗,这首呈现出无比的翻译难度。单是一句“脱掉了内心朝飞暮倦的长亭短亭”就足以让人无从入手,百感交集。好在当时,我茫然不知其难。反反复复翻了“前世”,然后翻了“丹青见“,但无从知晓翻译结果的好坏。
2016年秋天,我到俄国旅游,期间路过中国,拜访了陈先发。他是个表面非常沉稳安静的诗人,话很少,高傲,敏感。他选择的总是一个僻静的观察者的位置。这样的人,他的内心世界却像一片刚被雨滴弹到的桑叶,在逆光中不为人知地微微颤动。他送我他的两本书《黑池坝笔记》和《写碑之心》。落笔题词前他问,你会读吗?我当时大概没及时回答,他不满地瞥了我一眼,把书悄悄放回桌边。我回过头来一看,怎么他没把书给我,便问他,他又追问了一句,你会不会读?我保证会读之后,他才把两本书递给我。这次见面后,我重新翻译了“前世”和“丹青见“。当时,我开始朦胧地意识到,技巧除外,翻译其实是一个深度解读的过程,与其说你翻译一首诗,还不如说你真正翻译的是文字后面的人,除了对文字的理性认识,更需要对人的感性直觉, 译者和作者不认识,缺乏交流的情况下是很难真正翻译好一首诗的。
从莫斯科回美后,我心想,不知道中国现在到底有多少人在写诗。我搜索了微信,对凤凰主持的诗艺群颇感兴趣,加入后在里面结识了一批默默耕耘的中国诗人。他们对中外诗坛的熟悉程度令我惊讶,其中不少人很能写,经常一天写四首。我读他们的诗, 也读了不少他们介绍的中外诗人的诗, 同时花了不少时间和他们在微信群里交流,同是爱诗者,年龄与经历并不构成我们之间的交流障碍。 2016年底到2017年初的期间,我写了大量的中文诗。2017年2月底,我去纽约92Y写作中心参加一个保罗·奥斯特(PaulAuster)的读书会。 作为一个藏书者,我以前也经常出席此类读书会。 这次不同的是,我自己成了写作者。在成为小说家前,保罗也写诗,他的小说里总是飘荡着诗的灵魂。保罗在台上大谈他的创作过程,我在台下心不在焉。自从开始写作后,我的外在世界变小了,内心却在无限扩大。读书会结束后,我在广告牌上看到诗歌中心春季大师班的招生海报。92Y诗歌中心是美国数一数二的诗歌中心。 我不知道大师班是什么,我一生读过23年书,各种专业,却从来没有进过文学写作班。我心想,既然自己不想坐在台下,就得往台上靠。 回家后,我递交了申请,两星期后收到了录取通知。
大师班共有六堂,每星期六在老师CorneliusEady家里举行。 Eady是位南方诗人, 80年代末在黑人诗人还很少的年代即已成名。 他长得有点像著名的牙买加歌手鲍勃·马利(Bob Marley), 编成细辫的黑色长发,骨骼巨大,长手长脚。他住在曼哈顿西村一间精致窄小的公寓里,书桌摆在走廊里,客厅非常小,从地上到天花板,堆满书籍和唱片。这么大个的人在小玩偶的房子里转圈,有点像他墙上画中水池里打转的乌龟。客厅朝向爬满紫藤和悬铃木的后院,蔷薇尚未开花,小心翼翼地攀在木架上。写作班共有7位学生,年龄性别种族各异。 大家先介绍了一下自己,我发现他们都有比我长得多的诗龄,其中Sarah是成名的小说家,Sam哈佛大学时代已经是诗人。Eady要求大家谈一下为什么写诗并读一首自己的诗。轮到我,我说,诗是我和世界之间唯一有效的交流方式,好比有的人用橄榄球棒, 有的人用歌喉,我用诗。不同的是,别人花了很短时间就找到自己的方式,我却花了整整半生,这多少令我百感交集。第一次,我在陌生人面前朗读了自己的诗,诗名叫作“Nothing Made Me Happier Than Finding These Objects(幸福,是突然找回这样一些东西)”,这首诗后来成为我在国内出版的第一本诗集的书名。写作班采取的是讨论的形式,每个人轮流读一首自己的诗,其他人发言帮助修改。六堂课上得很快,这期间我写了一大批后来陆续发表的叙事诗,像“站街女”,“洗窗者”,“法官大人”,“玻璃门”等都直接取材于我作为一个移民同时又是移民律师的亲身经历。
大师班结束后,我觉得应该把大师班这样的经验搬到中文诗歌实践中来。2017年4月底,我发起了诗艺X诗社, 集合了诗艺群里一批志同道合的中国诗人,在平台上自由讨论交流创作经验。微信中诗群很多,大多数有好几百人,不是成为布告栏,就是各讲各的,对诗歌创作本身毫无帮助。我成立的诗社限制在三十人以下,每个人都是创作量可观的诗人。有些在诗坛已成名,有些默默无闻;有些住在中国农村,有些和我一样长居海外。每个月我们在诗艺平台上发表一期作品,而更多时间,我们用在修改彼此的作品或讨论诗观。5月底,我从英伦三岛旅游回纽约后,Eady写作班的同学Dana来电,希望大家到她家小聚。Dana本人除了写诗,是曼哈顿一家宠物店的老板。Dana的晚宴中,聊起中国诗歌的现状。我说,中国当代诗人技法上和现代英文诗非常接近。诗人们表示惊讶,几个人中,除了Arrye听说过北岛,其他人对中国当代诗人一无所知。 相比之下,国内的诗人对海外诗歌不仅了如指掌, 而且开口闭口都是外国诗人的名字。 我说,我翻译了两首诗,发给你们看。回家后,我把翻译的“前世”和“丹青见”发给了Sam Perkins。Sam曾经是《读者文摘》欧洲部主管,有长年编辑的经验。Sam说他不会中文,让我发给Catherine。Catherine是华裔,刚从大学毕业,在一家网络公司做项目。Sam以为她会中文。 结果我发现Catherine也不会中文。但我请他们俩在我翻译初稿的基础上进行修改,我交给Catherine四首,Sam六首,他们一口答应。因为我自己掌管一家律师事务所,业务繁忙,他们俩就在我下班后到我办公室隔壁的墨西哥餐馆碰头。三个人就几首诗在餐馆里占了一排车厢座,第一次,坐了4个小时,喝掉了9杯朗姆鸡尾酒,我讲解了一通中国当代诗人的背景。好比陈先发写道,“对匮乏的渴求胜于被填饱的渴求“,Sam和Catherine完全不明白他的意思,但我知道这和中国过去三十年轰轰烈烈的全民商业化有直接的关联。过去三十年,被填饱的又何止肚子,而需要减肥的也绝不止于身体。因此我对Sam和Catherine做了大量的解释工作。
之后,我们开始定期聚会讨论翻译。前前后后,花了将近两个月的时间,才翻完十首诗,但是说“翻完”,不过是暂时不去碰它,事实上,诗歌翻译上,从来不存在“彻底翻完”的时候。在这点上,翻译,写作和人生极其相似,永远处在“形成之中“。翻完陈先发后,我觉得这是一件非常有意义的事情。既然美国诗坛对中国诗人所知甚少,我们为什么不将更多的中文诗翻译成英文呢?我找到诗艺平台的群主凤凰,让他介绍我认识更多的中国优秀诗人。凤凰搞公共平台,和我共同扶持,组织了诗艺X诗社。 他给了我他手上所有的名诗人们的个人微信号,其中包括胡弦,雷平阳,毛子,汤养宗和蓝蓝。因为是毛遂自荐,凤凰和他们也没有私交,我把完成的翻译做成一期平台,发给每个诗人,希望得到翻译他们诗歌的许可权。没想到,不费吹灰之力我便得到了五位诗人的肯首和支持。我至今不清楚他们为什么会盲目地相信一个微信平台上萍水相逢的人。
得到许可之后,我很兴奋地马上把胡弦的翻译好了。翻译的神秘性在于,有时候译者会突然和一首诗窄道相逢,几乎本能地就知道应该翻成什么样子。胡弦的“平武读山记“就是我非常有幸翻译的一首诗。我只翻译了一遍,英文自动呈现,几近完美,连Sam和Catherine都很惊讶。“我爱绝顶,也爱那从绝顶滚落的巨石——如它爱着深渊:一颗失败的心,余生至死,爱着沉沉灾难。”什么样的诗人能够在注定的失败中看到生命过程的伟大?从灾难中提炼出人性的尊严?我在这首诗中清晰地读出胡弦思想的经脉和那种银杏叶面似的音形色的完美。他的诗令我像大热天喝了一杯冰水一样酣畅。翻完胡弦之后,我们又开始翻译毛子和雷平阳。说好由我翻译,Sam修改雷平阳,Catherine修改毛子。我非常欣赏毛子诗里的温厚和诚意,那股淡淡的对天地的慈悲感怀和忧伤,以及那阵雨过丛林时山毛榉的瑟瑟声。相对胡弦和毛子,雷平阳的现实主义叙事诗呈现奇怪的难度。他的诗如剑兰叶一般锐利,特别是他最出名的两首叙事诗“杀狗的过程”和“集体主义的虫叫”,不管怎么改,总是感到什么地方不妥。我有时彻夜不眠地琢磨,误区到底在哪里?难道是我的内心没有强大到像雷平阳一样可以把残酷的现实写进诗里?他那些执迷不悟的可悲的家狗,和恶声恶气大叫的青蛙着实我不舒服。但这就是他的风格,你不得不佩服他的率真,独特和大胆。一开始,他的“集体主义的虫叫”被我翻译成了The Calling of Insect Collectivists, 后来又改成The Calling of Collectivist Insects。我左右琢磨,觉得他诗中叫的不仅有虫,青蛙还有猿猴,哪里是英文里的“虫子(Insects)”。 我又想起武松拳打母大虫,中国人显然把在地上爬的都叫作“虫”。我得把虫去掉,于是又改成The Calling of Collectivists. 出版前最后一秒钟,终于找到灵感,改成了The Calling of Collectivist Creatures,Creature一词可大可小,涵盖一切地上爬的,天上走的,才使整首诗的寓意呈现。
2017年8月的一天晚上,我们三个坐在我家客厅,面对一轮满月和窗下银缎一般波动的哈德逊河,Catherine指着天空说,这个不是毛子的月亮吗?我们拿来赌吧。 我们的翻译确实类似一场豪赌,既没有经验,也没有计划。回想起来,也许就是为了凑在一起借个理由喝酒。毛子还没有彻底改完,Catherine没了工作,她在重新找工作和回学校进一步读书之间不断犹豫,而她的同学们纷纷成家立业,她感到自己在诗歌这条道路上非常孤单,便对翻译无精打采起来。走掉了Catherine,Sam和我也索然无趣,Sam勉强改完雷平阳后,开始消失无踪。他不回我的邮件,翻译全面搁浅。这使我陷入非常尴尬的境地,因为我已经信誓旦旦答应了几位诗人,尽管人家不催我,我觉得不完成翻译任务,言而无信。没有办法,我们的翻译没有实际收入,与生存无关,且看不出前景,我只好一个人硬着头皮干下去。汤养宗的诗接近散文体,随笔到处,处处出诗,和我自身的简约风格距离较远,我翻译了十首,却一首都不满意。后来改了又改,至今还是不满意,因此最后在这本翻译集里只收录了过得去的三首。蓝蓝的诗情感饱满,又着丰富的音质,把旋律控制好是翻译蓝蓝诗歌至关重要的一步。我往往在翻译蓝蓝时先翻出她的主旋律,然后再围绕主调翻译变奏。我意识到,如果想鼓励Sam和Catherine继续干下去,我必须担起责任,将翻译件发表到美国文学杂志上去。寻找发表渠道一点不比翻译来得简单,8月中,我从美国笔会讨来美国诗刊杂志清单,写好自我推荐信,将翻译好的陈先发挨个盲投到凡是号称接受诗歌翻译的文学杂志。 我初入文坛,平生第一次投稿,投出去后,杳无音讯。后来,我询问身为《扬子江诗刊》主编的胡弦盲目投稿被选中的概率是多少。他让我猜。我说10%, 他说最多只有2%。
整个初秋,月夜流动如水银, 而一首诗一直在我脑海徘徊, 那就是王家新的“回答”。 6月,我第一次读到王家新写于1998年的长诗“回答”,立刻被此诗深深打动。 打动我的原因其实非常简单,因为诗里描述的是我熟悉的心境。对于我,这是一首似曾相识的诗。这首诗通过对个人命运的反思,直指八十年代大学校园中成长的一代人对自我存在价值的探索及其复杂曲折的心路历程,同时探讨了这一代人面临的中西方文明的严峻挑战。这一代人从天安门的影子下走入滚滚商海,诗在他们的心目中,是否还有地位呢?记得1995年夏天在王府井的咖啡馆里,我的一位穷困潦倒的文学朋友指着大街上的奔驰对我说,你下次回中国来时,我一定开奔驰来接你。二十年之后,我仍然在美国,他拥有的车远远超过一辆奔驰,当然,他再也不玩诗歌那种“雕虫小技”。我把自己的诗传给他时,他说,你怎么到现在还在写这种玩意?是啊,谁读? 而1998年时, 王家新已经掂量过了一切,思考的结果便是这首长诗“回答“。见我赞美“回答”,凤凰问我要不要加王家新,他有王家新的微信号。我说,不用了,他太有名,我不想去烦他。我一时想不出和他攀谈的理由。王家新的作品大部分已被史春波和乔治.欧康尼尔两位杰出的翻译家翻成英文,他的英文诗集在美国也能买到,我选择翻译的诗人也局限在我的同龄诗人中间。不谈翻译的话,两个陌生人自然开始交流的可能性非常小。不过,我倒是从一开始就本能地感觉到,这首“回答”从未被翻译成完美的英文诗, 它等待一个具有强烈认同感的人来翻译。过了一个月,我和凤凰再度谈及长诗的技巧, 他又把王家新的微信号给我。我想,好吧,加就加,他也可能不理我。没想到,王家新是个极易交谈的人,我们自来熟,很快便天南海北交谈起来。他机敏健谈且直言不讳,对我文字的评价非常公正尖锐。
进入金秋,突然得到很多好消息。《美国诗天空》发表了四首胡弦的翻译诗。爱荷华大学国际翻译中心来信要求在顶尖的《交流文学杂志》发表陈先发的四首翻译诗。交流文学杂志社派了一位高级编辑给我,要求我修改其中一些翻译得不够明确的地方。我在原稿基础上修改了五六遍,才达到要求。爱荷华大学是美国少数几个以发展推广国际文学交流为宗旨的大学,它的国际写作中心素来是世界著名诗人作家的摇篮。我们的翻译能够在完全没有内部关系的情况下被选中,无疑是天大的鼓舞。10月20号,我们三个被邀请去纽约的BloomReading诗歌朗诵会,我读了中文,Sam和Catherine分别读了英文。 会后,不少纽约诗人前来和我攀谈。大家都希望以后能都读到当代中国诗人的作品。11月中,我们的翻译发表后,我邀请了Sam和Catherine在著名的美国“蓝烟“餐厅庆祝了一番。在给《交流文学杂志》写的翻译观点论中,我指出,如果把翻译当作一场动刀手术,那么好的诗,就像身子骨健康的人一样,是经得起折腾的。你把一首诗剖开,分解,把词语像内脏一样拎出来,然后塞回去,一首糟糕的诗会垮掉, 而真正的好诗是不会的。当时,我的目标是将毛子,雷平阳,蓝蓝和汤养宗修改完毕,发送美国杂志发表,还没有任何出版书籍的计划。写到这里,我必须提到徐俭。在南京某大学教英文的徐俭和我是微信诗友,我发现他对诗歌语言异常敏感,英文阅读量甚广,因此经常交流。《交流文学杂志》要求修改时,他给了我非常宝贵的建议。因为他本身能够阅读中文,他的建议在对原诗的理解层面弥补了我的疏忽和不足。2017年12月,我动身去中国前将翻译稿分头发给了Catherine和Sam,寄希望予交流文学杂志的出版使他们回归翻译行列。
12月13号,我先到南京拜访胡弦。胡弦和我的想象非常一致,典雅含蓄,看似憨厚,却有深藏不露的幽默和锋芒。我问他,你最近在忙啥?他说,哎呀,这几天我忙着管那片瓜地。我说,你不是吃瓜群众吗?他在眼镜后面嘿嘿地笑。后来问起他写诗的经历,他说以前刚从徐州到南京,企图学里尔克一辈子不结婚。停顿后,他略微害羞地发出一个幸福男人的笑声。胡弦请我到女诗人蕙芷的家庭餐馆朵上小酌,在场的还有南京女诗人孙冬,我们花了很长时间拍照。胡弦对照片形象非常讲究,衣服太臃肿不行,笑得不自然不行,露齿也不行,正不行,侧不行。但他最好的几张照片却是我趁他不注意偷拍的。 蕙芷趁我不注意,也偷拍了我一张低眉顺目的半身照。一个月后,我发现她在同样的位子,给王家新拍了张同样角度的半身照。初冬的南京阴冷,银杏尚未完全落尽,旋在半空的叶子黄灿灿的,偶尔飘进头发。我爬上燕子矶,看了一眼滚滚东流的长江。临走时,抱走一堆为人礼数周到的胡弦送给我的礼物:《阵雨》,《沙漏》,《空楼梯》三部诗集,两罐高山茶, 一套精美的茶具。
15号一早,我坐高铁赶赴北京,下榻在南鼓锣巷里的涵珍院。因为在北京要办的事很多,我希望一次见到所有人,事先找王家新约时间。他说,你先来,你来后找我,只有你们美国人才预约。我离开中国几个世纪,早已不习惯这么随性的社交方式,心里总觉得很不踏实。好在,有一个方面我占绝对优势,那就是酒量。事先毛子向我透露,我将见面的朵渔和李少君都不会喝酒,王家新只喝德国啤酒,不用担心他们。我到的那天,北京天气晴朗,蓝天高远,枝桠上白云朵朵,我的心情也晴朗起来。黄昏时,王家新来到南北锣巷,他腰板笔挺,精神矍铄,两道浓眉,握手坚定有力。 他对这一带和我一样不熟,转了两圈,在张大千故居附近找了家云南火锅店扎进去。我们交换了许多海外打工和到处闲逛的经历。王家新出身成长在南方,却落户在北方,他的诗风和人格上都明显体现出北方的冷峻和强硬,而在这冰雪下面,却无时无刻不流淌着南方的潺潺小溪。王家新说第二天他在中关村请洪子诚,让我一同去赴宴。第二天,我跑去,他请了一座人,洪子诚,胡桑等,连我本来就希望约见的蓝蓝也在。蓝蓝长着好看的瓜子脸,个性温和,舒坦,很像她自己笔下北京白杨树毛茸茸的叶子。她说平时需要照顾母亲,鲜少离开北京,她很幸运有两个女儿。洪子诚上了年纪,有点怕冷,裹在棉袄里,气色红润。王家新送他刚出版的散文集《教我灵魂歌唱的大师》,他亲昵地和王家新开玩笑说,你这是什么时候写的?整天跑来跑去,奇怪哦,怎么有时间写书?王家新笔头迅捷大概是赫赫有名的。饭局散后,我独自穿过人迹稀少圆明园,夕阳徐徐沉落湖心,寒风刺骨。
17号早晨,我在中国现代文学馆见到了李少君。李少君人如其名,谦谦君子,胸有成竹,是个既有抱负又有条理的人。他是个大忙人,当时在开一个书籍发布会,我因此借光听了听。近十年我在美国很少亲临会议了,有事情也是视频会议。北京会议室的暖气开的实在太足,我感到闷热无比。会议结束后,我和李少君聊了几句,他问我在翻译哪些人的作品,我说有雷平阳,毛子,胡弦,汤养宗,陈先发,蓝蓝等,他认为翻译是非常有意义的工作,应该继续。不知道我们为什么突然聊起星座。好像有种说法,现在写诗的都是处女座的。李少君不是,他是射手座的,但他沉稳无比,更像是海南岛上巨大的芭蕉叶,没有飓风时岿然不动。
午后,我在鼓楼上读节气表,刚读到“大雪“篇,王家新打电话来,让我赶紧从鼓楼下来,在公交汽车站等他一同去吃饭。没有想到他会在百忙之中如此热情相陪,我匆匆忙忙从鼓楼陡峭狭窄的木楼梯爬下来,跑到鼓楼前的公交汽车站。我在那里等了很久,仍不见王家新人影。王家新又打来了,他说他已经在立交桥上,我只要往立交桥方向走两步就能看。我举目四望不见立交桥,问路上行人。路人说,往东走,那里好像有座立交桥。我没办法了,沿着东边的大街往前走。越走越不对,一条大街直直的,前方在修路,却没有任何桥。我想,瞎走,还不如折回鼓楼。到了鼓楼一看,王家新的车停在下面。我说,王老师,我找不到你说的立交桥。他嘿嘿笑着说,看错一栋楼,还以为那个是鼓楼。我们在使馆区,走进一家酒吧,午后非常安静,酒吧里洋溢着温馨的钢琴曲,他点了一碗法国浓汤,我要了一杯茴香热红酒,他让我一定要尝尝这里的猪油黑面包。我问了他很多有关“回答”这首诗的写作背景。他毫无保留地告诉他的经历和当时的心情。谈到当年他独自住在北京郊区昌平的土屋里,妻离子散,不免伤感。王家新借口要抽烟,走到酒吧后的小院去了。他是那种非常具有代表性的中国知识分子,富有原则和理想,像北方高大的白桦树,枝叶挺拔,质地尖硬,独自挺立在白雪皑皑的原野,但当你剥下白桦树皮,你会发现柔软的一面居然可以写字。
见过王家新之后,我对翻译“回答”产生了极大的兴趣。要想把这首句子特别长而拗口的诗翻译得气韵生动非常不容易。诗歌翻译是件非常奇妙的事情,明明每个翻出来的字都准确,语法无误,连意思也翻得清清楚楚,却无法在另一种语言里生龙活虎起来成为诗。这令我想起童话“木偶奇遇记“。你造好了木偶,上了最美丽的漆,鼻子眼睛都刻的一板一眼的,到最后,需要一口气将木偶吹活。 而活的东西,之所以活,有时恰恰活在引人注目的不完美之中。“回答”是很长的一首诗,共有二十段。我翻了前四段给王家新看。他鼓励我继续。我告诉胡弦我在翻王家新,他说,你翻雪山啊。“回答“证明是座极具挑战性的大雪山。翻到第五段,我开始高山缺氧。Sam和徐俭帮我改了一遍后,我觉得离开原本的诗更加远。王家新自己是个翻译家,他知道翻译的难处,他鼓励我,让我慢慢翻。期间,我仔细阅读了王家新的诗集,以及散文集《教我灵魂歌唱的大师》,在散文集中找到了不少他的诗歌风格和思想的痕迹。王家新非常认同艾略特的”引文写作“,认同诗歌必须让所有的时代”并存“于现在,突破一己抒情,在更开阔成熟的层面上”以文学历史之舌说话“。同时,我又阅读了里尔克的”杜伊诺哀歌“和“致俄尔浦斯的十四行诗”。在这之前,我只读过里尔克的短诗,他的”秋日“一直是我最喜欢的诗之一。里尔克的长诗有其独特的震撼力。我读了两种英译版本,在其中选择了“回答”开头引用的里尔克诗句“Nor are sorrows understood…(苦难尚未认识)”。 这句话怎么翻,其实定义了整首诗翻译的基调。”Nor are”暗示在“苦难“之外还有其它没被认识的东西,好比“天命”, 好比”爱“。 而“understood”的准确定义是对命运应有的”深度认识“。得到了这句英文后,我觉得自己突然深入进了“回答”的核心,余下的一切开始焕然开朗。 可见每一首诗都有一个内核,翻译一首诗,就是要拨开枝叶,深入到这个核心。在很多诗歌中,内核往往包裹在盘根错节的语言中深藏不露,只有认识诗人,了解诗人,才能真正走入诗人灵魂的迷宫。
经过十几次的反复修改, 我在二月底终于完成了“回答“的翻译。在翻译过程中,徐俭和Sam都分别提出了宝贵的修改意见。 我把翻译稿发给程一身看,他说,你翻译了这么多诗,何不出本翻译集?我心想,这也是一个办法。杂志的发行量有限,但出版一本书,只有51首翻译诗是不够的。于是,在原有的翻译上,我又增加了五个人的诗:古马,阿信,潘维,李少君和池凌云。他们全部出生在六十年代,是我的同龄人,只有他们的诗,在没见面的情况之下,我凭自己的生平经历,还有了解的可能性。因为有出版的目标在前,加上翻完”回答“后我对翻译有了崭新的认识和自信,我日以继夜地翻译第二批诗人。但是我的热情仍然无法激励Sam和Catherine,Sam无精打采,Catherine推三阻四,不愿再参与翻译,同时,徐俭也宣告不再介入我的翻译项目,期间,我又请黑子提供了一些宝贵的修改意见,但他的翻译观与我不同,也无法真正参与翻译。我硬着头皮日以继夜翻译完所有人的诗。 一直到三月初,Sam终于休息完毕又开始工作,于是,我和Sam两人缓慢地逐批进行翻译修改工作。我们在纽约世贸中心的商场里找到可以坐到晚上10点不被人驱赶走的座位,每星期二晚上工作五小时,突击了将近四个月,才将所有翻译重新翻译了一遍。对照我们的终稿和最初以及中间的翻译稿,简直面目全非。几乎每翻一遍,就清晰一点。我想一个自觉的写作者和翻译者,对不成熟的不完美的部分有类似身体的不舒服感,我经常半夜醒来恍然大悟一句诗应该翻成什么样。最终,长诗“回答”没有收在这本翻译集中,而是发给了英国一家文学杂志。 我又另外翻译了王家新的六首短诗,替代了“回答”的位置。所以这本翻译集里都是短诗, 以便使整体格式统一。   
为什么在翻译这件事上我如此强调合作的重要性呢?因为翻译与纯粹的诗歌创作不同,需要”另一只眼睛“的审视。翻译的尺度非常难掌控,一个母语是中文的翻译者,中译英,容易被中文原诗的词语,文法和句式绑架,因为语言有先入为主的功效,读完中文以后,不受其影响不可能,所以母语是中文的翻译者中译英,翻出来的英文往往太贴近中文,缺乏英文的诗意和美感。而一个母语不是中文的翻译者,非常容易走入意译的歧途,歪曲原诗意思而浑然不知,导致“过度翻译“的现象。不是说这些缺陷无法克服,但克服缺陷需要漫长的时间,才得以让一种语言在脑海消失,让另一种语言自由生长。我在完成翻译初稿后,往往将中文原诗和翻译束之高阁,过一段时间后,再翻出来修改。修改时,中文原诗的冲击力基本已经淡化,甚至忘记了。 如果想在极短的时间内,完成出色的翻译,合作者便是非常重要的,合作者起到的最大作用就是帮助调节,监督翻译尺度。由于尺度的恰当,合作翻译出来的诗歌质量往往比单独翻译出来的高很多。
这本翻译集里,于坚是真正的第十三片叶子,一片托得起荷花的宽大的叶子。 在翻译阿信和潘维之间,我得到于坚的微信,我加了他之后进入他的朋友圈,首先读到的是他近期的诗作“小镇“。于坚的诗我并不陌生,早期的“0档案”等都读过,令我佩服的是,于坚写了一辈子,仍然能够保持高度,越写越好,这是实在不容易做到的。他的语言丰富饱满,有浓郁的生活气息。 我赞美于坚,他不理睬我。古马引见我说,于坚兄,谢炯是很好的翻译家和诗人,人很正派,她喜欢你的诗和散文,你可以和她说话嘛。这下,他才吭气。我心想,不得了,这于坚大概经常被“不正派”的女诗人围攻。我翻译了于坚一组抒情诗,充满浪漫激情和排比句。不管现代新诗发展到什么程度,是否更加接近散文体,时髦什么样的流派,我个人对传统诗歌形式历来情有独钟,读得最多的还是聂鲁达,泰戈尔的诗。在翻译于坚时,我千方百计想保留的就是他原诗中那股回肠荡气的情感之力。
回想起来,这本翻译集尽管源于我的近乎幼稚的冲动,却是勤奋努力的结晶。 很难说这本书就是彻底完成了的翻译,说不定,过几天翻出来一看,又开始改。 只能说这本书是当下比较完美的状态吧,而出版是因为目前实在改不动了,有点不想再被其烦恼的意思。 如果把这本书比作一棵树,那么这是一棵奇怪的树,无法清晰地描绘。就像池凌云曾经在诗中写的,你必须“到一棵树中去”才会看清。无法想象那些走进这棵树的人,看到十三片不同的叶子后会怎么想。也许,他们会突然忘记叶子,看到一棵完整的树。
2018年7月4日 纽约

本刊图片源自著名X-RAY摄影师:ABERT KOETSIER

Albert Koetsier is a Dutch artist born in the Netherlands. Albert got in love with photography at the tender age of 8. He later developed his first homemade camera using matchbox, a pair of lenses, and other materials. At the age of 14, Albert was working in different jobs to help him purchase the materials he needed for his experiments. Later on, he created his own machine for developing photos. His love for photography was so strong that he started collecting cameras and parts from any source he could find. Albert mastered camera technology so much that after he graduated from a primary technical university in Hilversum, Netherlands, he secured a job as an x-ray technician. In 1969 while he was in a job assignment in Würtzberg, he saw x-ray images of plants printed on a calendar. He was so fascinated with it that he wanted to make at least some two for his room, provided it wasn’t too expensive. Albert however moved to another place before taking such pictures. 
Later on in 1982, he found an old x-ray machine while on a work mission in California. He repaired it and started making x-ray images of plants, birds, and anything he could come across. Although he liked the images, he didn’t see much in them until in 1991 when he made an x-ray of a lizard. He saw art in that image. A friend who later visited and saw the artwork was willing to buy the “lizard with the broken leg,” as it came to be called. Albert continued making x-rays of different objects, later winning him several awards and appearing in several magazines. He’s practicing what’s now famously known as x-rayography to date. He’s married to Anne, with whom they work together on the paintings and framing of the creative works of art.
感谢著名X-RAY摄影师:ABERT KOETSIER的精美图片共享。WEPOETRY 编辑部谨向这位天才摄影师致以崇高的敬意!

本期“诗人谢炯|十三片叶子THIRTEEN LEAVES专辑”,由诗人谢炯授权WePoetry海外原创华文诗歌集粹网刊出,诗歌作品版权归原作者所有。诗人谢炯新书发布会及现场售书照片由摄影师BRIAN HUANG(寒山老藤)提供,转载请注明出处。另:谢炯此书<THIRTEEN LEAVES>在亚马逊(www.amazon.com)有售,在查询处输入Thirteen Leaves by Joan Xie,或点击链接https://www.amazon.com/dp/1719582092/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1531918301&sr=8-1&keywords=thirteen+leaves+by+joan+xie。

WePoetry 海外原创华文诗歌集粹独家奉献

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