Sophy Translation C-E:Different Tunes (Poems by Greensleeves,China)綠袖子

學英語找翻譯家蘇菲,翻譯詩歌找翻譯家蘇菲
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[Description]:[Sichuan] Greensleeves Different Tunes — (and other four poems) No more than like a set of wood, in the valley With clouds, is emptily named as Gelsemium elegans No more than like a lion in the narrow In flood, i…

Sophy Poetry Translation C-E

[四川]綠袖子

異調—— (外四首)

無非像一節木頭,在山谷
流云處,空蕩蕩地姓了一回斷腸草
無非像一頭獅子,在峽口
洪水處,突然跌落又蕩起,姓了一回猛獸
那節木頭,紋路深而有章法
它忍住對禪理的敏感,忍住神的考驗
它終于成為獅子悲憫的
一小部分。我在它們中間
變換著角色——
如果,世界可以再輪一回
我愿意在那里做好永逝的準備
如果,能遇見你
我們在最痛苦的時候
姓一回蛇,或者青蛇

2014年4月修改

 

一些不朽的事物

大院失火的那天起
小閣樓,就不再只屬于傳統的陳列之物
它把羽毛搖了搖
就沿著一組古建筑群體飛去

沿著古典主義神話飛去
在一本《虛擬的寓言》:它尋找
尋找,可以落腳的地方
與沿途的那只手齊平
與沿途的秒針齊平

有時,面對黑夜中的言論,酒吧
和敏感之物
每當談論起關于“洋白菜”
和紅玫瑰——
一只鳥兒就飛動,飛往蒼穹

它就此沉淀,沉淀在一些事物中
比如,想起失火的后遺癥

2014年1月4日

 

——入殮師

真的不應該——
不應該看見那些寂寞一樣的稻田,像落日,像死亡
蠱惑的大提琴,一會在d大調上停頓
遙想,沉默。一會是e小調
淚流滿面,在田坎上和愛人揮動的情緒
恐懼的視線,往往藏著一壇湖水的自由,熟透了的自由
我喜歡他隱藏的一雙手
還有陪伴他的一幅勞作之畫。像大量的油彩
和一些不動聲色的畫筆,任由他臨摹,意淫
像久石讓的《禮儀師之奏鳴曲》——
我聽著聽著,夏就出現在眼前
看完一次,悼念一次,夏,瘦弱一次
包括生命的遺言,背影,腳步聲——
有時候,一個鏡頭沖過來,像他額頭上的比目魚,封住一道道晚鐘,罄,木魚
包括遠方的灌木,游客,小路,和寺廟
——仿佛寧靜
仿佛歧途,仿佛萬物無常
和那些唯美的音符比較,那些世俗又能左右什么呢
誰都不用說出口,他的夏天,落日,稻田——
往往比死亡要快,比生命要淡定

2013年8月16日

這一天

你僅僅停留了一刻
生命全都變了樣——
這一天
對于南方的鳥巢來說
北方,屬于銀河系的另一處居所
信子飛來,地平線移動
是我想你了——
想你轉身的動作,想你潮濕的毒氣

這一天
——世界變軟,也變成恨

祭祀壇上的月光

在麥田的祭祀壇上,月光
耕耘過的水,慢慢長出了細細的密紋
我把身子骨嵌入黑夜
一大把麥穗,高出祭品一頭

仿佛有看不見的病理
開始是腳體的,心臟的,后又精神恍惚
我想,我是在等一條魚的出現
和畫布上的白,十分相像

一場古老的儀式,和
那些曾經在水面上收割月光的山體
不管它們殘留著怎樣的黑
我已習慣這獨自的空虛

2014年7月修改

 

[Sichuan] Greensleeves

Different Tunes — (and other four poems)

No more than like a set of wood, in the valley
With clouds, is emptily named as Gelsemium elegans
No more than like a lion in the narrow
In flood, it, suddenly dropped again once more, named as the beast
On that set of wood, there are tricks of deep lines
It refrains its sensitive to Zen, and refrains from God’s test
It finally became the lion’s small part of compassion
I was in the middle of them
To transform the role —
If the world can round once again
I am willing to be there and ready to disappear forever
If I can meet you
When we are in the most painful time
Let’s named as the snakes, or green snakes
Revised on April, 2014

Some Monumental Things

Sine the day that a fire was in yard
Attic has no longer belonged to the traditional objects only for display
It shakes his feathers
Flying away along a group of ancient buildings

And flying away along classical mythology
In a Virtual Fables: it looks for
Looks for, a place that can stay
It’s flush with the hand along the way
It’s flush with the second hand along the way

Sometimes, to face with remarks in dark night, bar
And sensitive things
Whenever talking about “cabbage”
And red roses —
A bird is flying, flying to the sky

It begins to precipitate, precipitate in some things
For example, to think of the fire sequelae

January 4, 2014

— Departures

I really should not —
Should not see those lonely rice fields, like the sunset, like the death
The enchanted cello, pauses in D major for a while
Looking back and keeping silence. It will be in E minor for a while
In tears, waving at the ridge with his lover in emotion
In sight of fear, often hide a jar of free water and the mellow freedom
I like his hidden hands
And a labor of painting accompanied him. Like a lot of paints
And some quiet brushes let him copy, and to be obscenity
Like Joe Hisaishi’s “Departures” —
Listening and listening, the summer appears in front of me
After watching once, mourning once, the summer is thin once
Including the last words of life, shadow, and footsteps —
Sometimes, a shot lens rushing, like a flounder on his forehead, seal the curfew, chime stone, and wooden fish
Including the distant bushes, visitors, paths, and temples
— As if it’s quiet
As if it’s astray, and as if all things are in impermanence
To compare with those beautiful notes, what about those seculars can do
Everyone does not need to say, in his summer, sunset, and rice field —
Often are faster than death and calm than life
August 16, 2013

On This Day

You just stay a moment
All kind of lives have changed —
On this day
For the bird’s nest in the south
The north belongs to another home in galaxy
Windflowers flying, horizon moving
It is i miss you —
Miss your turning movements, and miss your wet poison gas

On this day
— World turns soft, and also turns to hate

Moonlight on the Sacrificial Altar

On the sacrificial altar of wheat field, moonlight
And cultivated water, slowly grow a thin microgroove
I put my body bone embedded in the night
A handful ear of wheat is a head higher than the sacrificial alter

As if there is the invisible pathology
At start, it is the feet body, the heart, and then trance
I think I’m waiting for a fish to appear
And it is very similar to the white on canvas

An ancient ritual, and
Those mountains that ever harvest moonlight on the water
No matter how darkness they remained
I have got used to this emptiness alone

Revised on July, 2014

(Translated by Sophy Chen)

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