李建春诗三首(英译)

◎西思翎、田海燕



Three Poems by Li Jianchun
李建春    诗三首

Translation by Jan Laurens Siesling
·西思翎译

Li Jianchun, poet, art critic. Born in 1970. In 1992, he graduated from the Department of Chinese Language and Literature of Wuhan University. Masters in literature. Currently teaching at Hubei Institute of Fine Arts. Published several collections of poems, "Starting in the Rain", "Waiting to Alloy", etc. Organized many major art exhibitions. His poetry has won prizes and awards, notably the 3d Liu Li'an Poetry Award (1997), the 1st Yulong Poetry Award (2006), the 6th Hubei Literature Award, and the Changjiang Literature and Art Poetry Award (2014).

李建春,诗人,艺术评论家。1970年生。1992年本科毕业于武汉大学汉语言文学系。文学硕士。现任教于湖北美术学院。著有诗集《出发遇雨》《等待合金》等。多次策划重要艺术展览。诗歌曾获第三届刘丽安诗歌奖(1997)、首届宇龙诗歌奖(2006)、第六届湖北文学奖、长江文艺优秀诗歌奖(2014)等。


Daye where my heart is

From Hupu, over Daye, to Wuhan,
The troika of my youth, I won’t mention what came next
How I ended up in the open city of Guangzhou
Working for an incomprehensibly big company
Doing local planning, following Japanese models
Daye High School was the glory of my boyhood,
There my heart took shape, I wrote for the first time
A note to a girl, and I determined to go to college
From “Jean-Christophe”
To “The Birth of Tragedy”

The last crests of the Mufu Mountains kowtow to drink in the port of Huangshi,
Between the majestic Mountain Dragon and Water Dragon
The people of Daye had no room for choice. Their land was a battleground
For the weapons here forged, the spirit of the mine
Open like a copper flower, since the earth has seen civilization
Daye people have supported
The workers and the warriors
From the times of the King of Chu asking about the giant tripod Ding and of General Yue Fei warring with the Jin
Until the braves of the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom and the Soviets 
All those missed choices for the people of Daye
But of antique bronze is their heart

At the villages of Longfeng Hills and Shangfeng
I fall prey to nostalgia: this cannot be due to the scenery!
The grave mound of my ancestors sits next to the freeway,
Trembling. How much effort would it cost to get there,
How many detours to go down,
Push aside the wild grasses, clear the bramble bushes, to burn an incense stick?
The girl, she rejected my note,
Twenty years of void between her and me
It feels like homesick, why do I carry those memories?
She was with me at the foot of this hill, but we can’t return
She was within my reach, but is so far away
She is around, all-invading. My heart belongs to Daye
I will train my hand like a Master in the Craft
And cast: the razor-sharp edge of a dagger, the void of a Ding

Note: the “Master in the Craft” is the official title of the person in charge of any form of manual work.


我的大冶之心

从胡铺,到大冶,再到武汉
我前期的三部曲,中间省去
我如何在开放的广州
为我不了解的大公司
用方言策划,参照日本的模式
大冶一中是我少年的荣耀
初心形成之地,我平生第一次
向一个女孩递纸条,愤而上大学
从《约翰.克利斯朵夫》
到《悲剧的诞生》

幕阜山的余脉在黄石港饮水
雄壮的山之龙和水之龙
大冶人无从取舍。江山的争斗
在此地锻打兵器,矿山的精魂
开出铜草花,在地球文明的开端
大冶人支持了
共工与颛顼斗
以及楚王问鼎、岳飞抗金
近到太平天国的兵勇和苏维埃
大冶人的选择何其失败
但是他有青铜心

在龙凤山庄,在上冯村
我思考乡愁:这岂是风景的概念
我的祖坟山在高速公路边
震颤,要费多大的劲
绕多大的弯,才能下来
拨开荒草、黄荆,烧一柱香?
那个退还我纸条的女孩
与我之间二十年的空白
就像乡愁,何须铭记?
她就在我脚下,却回不去
她伸手可及,却不是
她在左右,四周。我的大冶之心
我用将作大匠的手腕
铸造:戈之锋、鼎之无

注:将作大匠,官名,掌管营造与百工,相当于少府



Waiting to alloy

It is a rainy day, unannounced as always, it weighs on my mood
It is a rainy day, so let me go where I am supposed to
Carry my rucksack with teaching tools to an outskirt,
Speak about something else, you can’t speak about yourself
A two-day workshop, covering the Neolithic Age up to the Warring States Period
I teach my students the origins of art
Stone tools, jade objects, antique bronzes, I teach them how to identify
A gui, a you, a zun, a ding*
I have prepared the models, now I wait for the alloy to melt and be poured.

*A gui is a bowl-shaped ritual grain vessel;  a you a tall ritual wine vessel; a zun a lidded ritual wine container; a ding a ritual tripod cauldron.


等待合金

雨濛濛的天,总是出人意外,不能自已
雨濛濛的天,我当在合适的位置
我背着教具到郊区上课,只能讲别人,不能讲自己
一联两天的课,从新石器时代讲到战国
我教我的学生艺术的由来
依次讲石器、玉器、青铜器,教他们认
簋、卣、尊、鼎,我备好了模范,等待合金熔液注入



Returning from a funeral in the midst of winter

Some people winter envelops and guards, others
In the winter get up early, sit at the window and let the time pass.
So with my classmate’s younger brother.
It was only the second time I saw him,
Or his photograph, actually, hanging between crying women.
When did I see him for the first time? In high school, during
A summer vacation in the home of my classmate, helping with the harvest.
That was him, a dark face, round and fatty, with streaks of sweat and mud,
Twisting his waist, at the side of the stove, watching our clamoring.
There he was only in his early forties, and all energy,
Though somewhat swollen eyelids, a man,
The ashes of his bones scattered in a coffin.
The fire I passed by was extinguished.

Your brother still blamed you for your bad behavior, before the coffin
He refused to be comforted. You left three children behind,
First born two girls, twins, the second born, a boy,
And there is even a step-son, to my surprise,
Son and step-son, wearing filial piety turbans, kneeled when I,
According to custom, lit some incense, then helped them up. This funeral
Was only about you, the dead one, who died of being drunk,
An accident, walking away from the neighborhood’s flowerbeds
You slipped, fell on the road and a heavy truck run over your body.
In that year you were so shy you didn’t look people in the eyes and, in awe
of your brother’s friend, you avoided him; now you repose there
In all your length. I accompanied your brother to the graveyard,
Where I meditated over your deep tomb. It looked so simple:
Your home, your loved ones, justice, and this place for a long sleep,
All I could hear was crying over you, no traces almost of a life.
Dying in the heart of winter, you became a seed,
Or food for seeds, and from that special station,
All we can hope for is you will bless your wife and children.
The hurdle was too high for you, but your loved ones must continue
When you hit hard the pavement
In the deep of winter, you barely felt pain, and died,
Shook your head as if waking up from delirium, rubbing your eyes
Hanging in the air, observing the weeklong activity unleashed by you.
Your thoughts were known by sun and wind alone,
Through light and air, you entered in the aftermath.

You passed through the world, leaving footprints deep or shallow
And I followed your almost traceless steps in the snow,
Mourning you. I’m in waiting, and maybe just as I am in waiting,
Waiting becomes a bliss, and there is bliss in mourning,
Like the mountain peaks mourn the valley; little brother,
The sky is bright already, thank you for resonating with me last night.
For me you were but the boy hunting birds’ nests,
Now, on the contrary, I would converse with you about serious business.
However, you have already returned to the earth. So my salute
Should also go to the earth. In the cold draught
Passing by the badly shut window, I feel a handshake impossible to hold,
I have to go down for a morning run, throw myself in the cold.
 
                                                                                                            Winter 2016


深冬,葬礼归来

冬天含藏了一些人,另有一些人
在深冬里早起,坐在窗前等待
比如小弟,我同学的亲弟,我第二次见到他
竟是他的遗照,立在嚎哭的妇女中间
第一次见他是什么时候?我读高中时
暑假到同学家玩,帮忙双抢
他,胖黑的脸,糊满汗水和泥迹
扭着腰,在灶台边,旁观我们高谈
现在他四十刚出头,精力充沛
眼皮有些浮肿,一个男人,骨灰撒在棺材里
一团与我擦肩而过的火熄灭了

你哥还在骂你不听话,对着你的灵柩
拒绝受安慰。你遗下三个孩子
头胎是孪生女,第二胎是男孩
另有一名义子,这让我很惊奇
义子和亲子头戴孝布,在我上香时跪伏
我依礼扶他们起来。在这场葬礼中
唯一特殊的是你,死者
死于醉酒,事故,你从小区的花坛边
滑倒,躺在地上,一辆货车碾过你身体
当年你怯于照面,敬畏地
对你哥的朋友,躲闪;现在你大咧咧地
长卧。我陪你哥送你到墓地
察看你的深圹。就这么简单:
你的家,你的亲人,义,和长眠之所
我听到的只是为你哭,几乎没有生平事迹
你死于深冬,成为一粒种子
或种子的养料,那么具体地说
我们都盼望你保佑你的妻儿
你越不过你的坎,就在你亲人的连续性中
成为铺路石
如此深冬,你几乎没感到痛,就死了
你酒醒时摇晃着脑袋,悬在空中揉眼睛
注视一周来与你有关的动态
你的想法只有风日知道了
透过光和风,你参与后事

你在人世走过了,脚印或深或浅
而我在你几乎踏雪无痕的外延
把你哀悼。或许仅仅因为我在等待
而等待是喜悦的,喜悦又是可悼的
像波峰怀念波谷,小弟
天已大亮,感谢你昨夜与我共鸣
我从未把你从掏鸟窝的男孩中区别
我欲待区别,与你聊些生意上的事情时
你已回到泥土。那么我的寒暄
也只好对着泥土说。我能感到一股气流
透过没关紧的窗,与我握手
我握不住,就下楼晨练,投入冷冽

丙申冬月十六
 


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