郑建青　　　20世纪中诗选译 ●Ji Xian 纪弦 DARWIN AND JI XIAN 达尔文与纪弦 Darwin, that evolutionist, Changed from an ape. Ji Xian did not; He was created by God. You know why? Ji Xian is a poet, But Darwin was not. All poets are created by God. Writers of other genres and artists, As long as they have a poetic temperament, Are of the same species Though they may never write a poem. RELATIVITY 相对论 Ma'am, why are you Holding an umbrella? There's neither rain Nor sun. But Your umbrella (Maybe made in Hangzhou) Is beautiful, And its stylish pattern Is enjoyable. Thank you, sir. But did you see? That lamp is on In daylight. YOUR NAME 你的名字 In this world, in the gentlest voice, over and over I call your name night after night. Write your name, Paint your name, Dream your name shining Like a sun, a star, A lamp, a diamond, Colorful fireworks, lightning, And burning of a virgin forest. Carve your name! Carve your name on a tree, On an evergreen tree. When the tree grows into a towering old one Your name grows too. Ah, great, great! Growing and shining Is your name I call gently over and over and over. ●Fei Ma 非马 CAGED BIRD 笼鸟 Good-hearted They Put the bird In the cage So its singing For freedom Will be Melodious And Heartbreaking ONCE I WANTED A BIRD TO SING 有一次我要一只鸟唱歌 The bird said I can't sing I don't want to sing It's not spring I pinched its neck Saying Sing, sing If you don't sing Why be a bird It tried hard But still couldn't sing Now I realize The bird was not wrong It was not a poet How could it keep singing All year long Back then I only tried To make it sing Never thought Spring would quiver To its last breath In my fingers BIRDCAGE 鸟笼 1 Uncage the Bird Let it Fly Away & return Freedom To the Sky 2 Uncage the Bird Let it fly Out & in Freely So the cage Becomes the Sky THE MOUNTAIN 山 Lying still there For me To climb Is my father's back Looming From my boyhood ●Sunny Chow 周正光 CEMETERY 墓园 However different they once were-- Native or immigrant, Clever or foolish, Penniless or powerful, Their endings are the same After decades of living: A name, Dates of birth And death. Stone angels And unwithered plastic flowers won't help. They are gone with wind Forever and ever. As for life history, It's unnecessary. THE PEAR BLOSSOMS IN THE RAIN 雨中望梨花 Standing out In the cold, cold rain Is a treeful of White, Aloof and Chinese, Meeting my gaze In this gloomy world ●Ray Y. W. Lau 刘荒田 VARIATION ON THE SEA LINE 海平线变奏 1 On one end sits the sun On the other the moon A seesaw For waves to slide up and down Unendingly 2 A sharp blade Slices the sunset Into bits of radiance And sanguine poetic lines 3 Flying far and far, wild geese, Along with my autumn thought, Merge into the sea line-- A string that stretches taut 4 Autumn night A few stars on their perches Like sparrows on a power line On the beach A hobo builds a fire And a shooting star Wailing The moon looks on Cold-eyed 5 A pale blue morning A big boat walks the wire Gracefully 6 Fog rising on the sea A Dutch windmill creaking On the shore Spinning the tourists' eyesight Seagulls fly out of And into fog What are they delivering? When the foghorn stops blowing A line appears in the distance As if spun by the windmill 7 You and I Walk in opposite ways On a one-plank bridge As we edge past Our reflections ripple in surprise (My goodness!) Then you reach The other shore of your dream And I the homeland in my heart THE RECEDING FIGURE 背影 My home is in the far east At sunset I turn and go west As I walk on My shadow recedes-- Homesick THE FASTING ROOM 斋堂 Soundless My sense of taste and stomach Are fasting stoically When grains and vegetables grow They are also soundless ONE MORNING IN THE GOLDEN GATE PARK 清晨，在金门公园 1 A squirrel Leapt nimbly on the ground Grabbed a fruit core And skipped back to the tree Just then, my badminton Bounced by the squirrel It didn't want to bother 2 Under the tree A hobo sleeping overnight Covered with dew Was reading excitedly aloud Maybe a poem In the States people Who read poetry this way Are always uninhibited 3 The badminton now flew to the tree And landed among the leaves Over and over I flung a branch at it But missed And the branch dropped back By the hobo's side He burst out laughing Like a whistling wind That blew the badminton off To the ground ●Chen Minghua 陈铭华 A PAROLEE 假释犯 He doesn't want to be homeless And filch like a rat again; He wants to kill in a notable way Because he needs jail: three meals a day there, TV, warm bath and so forth. RACE WITH TIME 和时间赛跑 Who will be the final winner? Think both the car and the man. If unable to overtake the setting sun They may still catch up With a sea of fire For rebirth. ●Liu Yanling 刘延陵 THE SEAMAN 水手 The moon in the sky, The ship on the sea, He hides in the dark behind the steer With his face in his hands. He fears that the sight of blinking stars And surging waves Will make him miss home beyond the sea, But he thinks of her Who puts up the bamboo clothes poles To dry her black cloth robe By a well where a pomegranate Is in bright blossom. ●Long Bide 龙彼德 BLACK BIRDS & WHITE BIRDS 黑鸟与白鸟 Flying through black night toward a black river Are white birds From one end of the world Where day is breaking. Flapping into daytime toward a white river Are black birds From the other end of the world Where night is still falling. Black is a contrast for white And white develops on black, The two interlocking forms Have a projection for demarcation Like abstract paintings Or misty poems. Black and white fly in opposite directions Towards their desired results: Bird eggs hatch in high temperature And nutshells crack when ripe, All soundless. SHADOW 影 The shadow reaches the horizon, A wandering golden shepherd That herds the cloudlike sheep. When I stand on the mountaintop, The shining light casts my shadow On the floating clouds Like the projection on a screen. The shadow looks big Under strong light, But disappears When clouds float away. Are clouds the visitors from hell Or the monsters at a dinner party? They can decide the fate of a giant By either increasing his price Or erasing his image. To them, creating a giant is as easy as Destroying one. ●Wang Jiaxin 王家新 FISH 鱼 A fish brings me a stream From the painter's brush-- From the deep silence Through the Dragon Gate And dark green lotus leaves This fish swims Toward me It ripples near And unexpectedly Its stare leads the withered me Slowly into the stream ●Wang Ning 王 宁 CHILDHOOD 童年 I often Run barefoot to my childhood, A merry friend who Opens his arms to greet me. The slab bridge of Heshe Arches steadily over a meandering brook. When I walk, run or skip on it He silently watches me As if I were his child. On the chimney of a red-brick house Grows a straight tree, And wind carries its twigs far away Like spreading a poem of dusk.