7/28/2006

Walk of A Dancer

(For Linyih Xing)

We try to find words
or glimses of the past.
Instead,
We find a body
trembling

in the September Station
of Ronkonkoma
where the train left us
with nothing
except the wind.

We pick you up
from a life journey
which has gotten nowhere
except to fear
of another stop

with a straw bag of ten years
in hand
and the feet
of a dancer
for more walking.

I want to say,
I know.
Instead,
we open our bags
from the past

that we can barely carry
on our shoulders.
We used to drop things,
eliminate the unncessary
until we found nothing

was indispensable
and the lightness
grew heavy.
Then, we put back
a few things:

Like herbs cut from the garden
of your yesterday home.
rootless and half wilted from the train.
Rosemary, Lavender, and Mint...
Now dry in my home for fragrance.

Then, there are the other things:
Jewlery, beads, stones,
passed down from our grandmothers,
mothers, or aunts
as protectors on our bumpy paths.

A jade Buddha
for longevity,
A golden Christ
for holy presence,
An amethyst necklace
to calm and heal,
A coral bracelet
for ennobling,
A golden Star of David
from a friend.

We divide them,
share the blessings:
Re-string them,
then send them to others


1992 New York

7/22/2006

前塵


找你,找你
猶如找我是誰, 找你
走入茫茫人海中找你,
走入三更的打板中找你,
走入深鎖的詩扉中找你,
在一切放下中
為什麽偏偏放不下你 ?

放不下你,放不下你,
猶如放不下我是誰, 放不下你,
在不染世塵的關房中放不下你,
在前念不生中放不下你,
不, 沒有前念 !
在後念不起中放不下你,
哎, 沒有後念 !
在前念後念之間的
我是誰
是你。

念念分明
是你
遍滿虛空
是你
寂靜是你湼槃是你
生滅與折翼的輪迥是你
十年生死呆如木雞的等待
是你。
我的長髮變短你的短髮變長
在髮與髮之間翩翩起舞的
微塵
是一塵不染中放不下的
前塵。

2006/7/22

Birds Immortal

Sleeping on your poems
3650 days in a coma
without shedding a drop of tear
in a climate of low pressure.
“Never say goodbye”
Fingers of a loving hand
hold you close to
caress the wounds
bandaged by words
forbidden.

In the turbulence with no direction,
Turning right or left didn't make a difference,
death was the destination.
I crossed my legs
faced a wall against you
inside a prison where
hearts could not be jailed
despite the bugs on the phone,
and letters read by others.

Not a word from you, even doves
flew from New York to Guizhou
had lost direction
in the sky I wrote,
“I miss you !”
and stood on the wounds to look up
the flower that drank tears
until walls turned into a void.

Void, how could a void be imprisoned ?
What could be taken when you wanted
Nothing, not even poem ?
What could be confiscated when you possessed
Nothing, not even love ?
Small, I grew,
smaller and smaller,
finally I diminished into
nothing.

In nothingness,
I grew
tall, taller and taller
by standing on sufferings, so that
nothing could block my eyes,
nothing, not even a drop of tear.
No tear were the days
I closed my eyes.
Suddenly you came,
Without legs.
I looked you in the eyes,
Without eyes.
When there was nothing,
there was no distance between you and I.

It must be the bird from Guizhou
Stands by my window without invitation.
3650 days I looked for you,
Not only you,
Also the birds
dead, alive, and immortal !

(July 5, 2006 – final draft July 6, 2006 -
translated original version from Chinese into English July 21, 2006)

7/18/2006

詩魂

把薰衣草栽在窗邊,
讓風把夢吹送,
隨着落葉,
伴着被蹂躪在腳下
顫抖的心
詩葉飄蕩在淺紫色的暗香裡
還魂。

那些客死異鄉
含冤負屈的詩,
那些不堪凌辱, 不能抵抗
弱不禁風的詩,
有誰在烘烘的火葬中
給你送行 ?

看你一葉一葉的
化成灰燼:
被栽贓嫁禍的母親、
倒白為黑的聆訊、
接不通的電話、
無望的上訪、
冰冷的灰燼.......
都交給我, 交給溫柔的風
我小心翼翼的捧在掌心,
揉入血肉
埋到花園裡
堆肥栽種

看窗邊無聲長大的薰衣草
看呀 !
風中如夢相似的
淺紫色
是再來的
詩魂。

(2006/7/18)

7/09/2006

我比太陽起得更早














我比太陽起得更早

凌晨四點, 悄悄的身影,
走入逶迤的山徑, 進入霧靄, 步入空靈,
我要迷失的是
我自己。

漸行漸遠, 烟霞不斷聚攏,
前不見人後不見影, 我看不見自己的身影,
那伸出來的溫柔的指掌,
在不斷圍攏過來的霧裡
失去了方向。

在月色迷太陽未升的時刻,
我迷失在隱閉無人的山徑……
被冷漠的小草、濡濕的泥土、樹上的微風、風中的顫抖…
在迷失與迷惘中
有多少無人採頡的悸動。

我不斷進入, 進入霧的心贜,
踏向前方, 繞向後方,
不管轉到那裡
都是同一地方。
我安靜地坐下來,
坐在霧裡看風景
向左看向右看
無論怎麽樣看,
都是同一風景。

在星光最暗淡太陽還未起來的時刻,
在最沒有方向的失落與鬱悶的年代,
我比失落還要失落,
我比鬱悶還要鬱悶,
在沒有出路的出路裡
我找不到方向。
那些向前向後向左向右的方向,
是最沒有方向的方向。

在小鳥未醒太陽未升的時刻
我比太陽起得更早。
凌辰四點,
我安份地坐下來。
滿懷歡喜地坐下來,
不為什麽的坐下來。
坐在霧裡,
寧謐的霧裡有萬縷温柔,
烟霞和清風有無盡深情。
而我,
是我自己的方向。

2006 年7月9日

圖片: Stephanie 和友人賞霧

7/06/2006

不死鳥

枕着你的詩
昏睡了三千六百五十天。
低氣壓的天空
沒有淚,
温柔的指掌不會說再見。
讓我緊靠着你
的傷疤、血肉、
和不準說的話……。

在沒有方向的急促旋渦裡,
無論轉左抑或轉右,
都是走向死亡。
我盤起了腿,
背向着你,
走進關不住心的牢籠,
所有電話都斷了綫,
書信都發給天空。

沒有音訊的日子,
紐約到中國的野鴿子通通都迷路,
把思念寫在天空,
用傷痛墊腳,
用淚水澆花,
把四面窄牆化作虛空。

誰關得住虛空 ?
誰拿得走什都可以不要
包括詩篇 ?
誰充公得了什麽都不擁有
包括愛情 ?
我變得愈來愈渺小,
變得什麽都不是
以至一無所有 !

厚重的傷痛把站在上面的我
墊高,
擋不住視線.....
一無所有沒有眼淚,
在沒有眼淚的的日子裡,
我閉起眼睛,
你卻翩然而至, 不必用蹆,
深情看你, 不用眼睛,
一無所有沒有距離 !

那一定是北方不請自來的鳥,
站在我的窗邊 !
找你三千六百五十天,
不光找你,
還找那些已死的、未死的、和不死的鳥 !


(2006年7月5日, 7月6 日完稿)