A collection of poems from ʫ���(http://www.poetrysky.com). Translated by Henry and Jin Lei.
С������ �������ĸ�ԭСվ ˲�� ĺ��֮ѩ Late Winter Snow ���г��� ѩһֱû��Ʈ���� ��©��ˮ�� �Ǵ��죬Ҳ���Ǵ���
�峿�������������� �����İ� ���Ҿþӵ�Ժ��� ��ˮ��� ��ʪ���Ҵ�ǰ�������������� ��Ȼ�������� �����������;ӵ���ʡС�� ���е����ְ��Ҵ�˯���л��� �ص�ˮ�ĵ������� ���߹����еĽ��� ������ɡ������ ��������ľ������ ������������� һ��ƽ�������ݵ�Ϫˮ �������ﵽ������ ������ �ӳ�����װ����˵������� ��һ�Դ�����ˮ�εĻ����� ��ˮ����������һƬ���ϻ��� ���������еĽ��� ���ҿ;ӵ�С�� ����ʡС�Ǻ�һ���ʻ������� ������������������� ����ˮҲ�������� �����ұ����ļ� ������Ժ���еļž� СŮ��һ�������ƣ���� �ڳ�˯������߽ ��ʱ��ˮ��������ʱ���������Ѽ��� һ˿������������ҹ��� ��������������������� Downpour in a Small Town Dawn breaks to rain outdoors And indoors it is dark Drumming rain Wets the old tree and the grapevine outside my window Back in the courtyard that has long been my home And my thoughts turn To a summer's day spent in a small town in another province When the noise of the morning market woke me from slumber I walked through market streets Whose shop eaves dripped with rain Packed with people under umbrellas Under abutting eaves of wooden houses Amid the accents of another place A brimming gentle stream Going gradually From one street to the next Through handbaskets laden with greens And dripping bunches of flowers Fused by pouring rain into a painted southern screen And the little town in another province With its aroma of cut flowers Warmed me deeply as I walked Back to my narrow lodgings With intimacy even of rain As if after supper in the still courtyard Of my northern home My daughter tired with daylong play Murmured in the somniloquy of first sleep And sometimes now raindrops on the vine trellis Infuse cool deep into a summer's night Like those tuberoses calling
���ļž��� ���������µ��ϵ�Сվ ��ԭ����ʯ���� �տ� ������һ���� ��·��� �����������ɳȺ �������½�Ƶ���˸ ��ֻ��Ĺ� ԶԶ�� ��·������б���� �����һƬƣ�벻���İ����� �������Ŀ��� �������� ���ų����ij��� �ܿ����ʧ��ɽ·�Ĺս��� ����ֱ�� ��Ҳ�������κ����� ����·�Ʒ���С����ӭ������ ͻȻ��ֹ���������Ŀ����� �������ʵ�Ŀ���� ������ע���ر���������� ԶԶ��ȥ ���ԭ������ �����������г�������Сվ �����ڵ�������ңң���� ������Զ���Ŀ��˸��µ� A Small Forgotten Station on the Plateau We walked in the solitude of afternoon To a little hillside station In Open land under a crag on the plateau With no one to be seen And encroaching sand sparkling gold In the sunlight on the right of the road Far off two chasing dogs Swerved down from the roadbed And plunged into exhausted bushes The mad lorry Threw us off and vanished quickly In a trail of dust Round the bend of the hill road And all sound stopped In direct sunlight The lad coming to meet us in railway uniform Broke off his slow whistling And we knew from his interrogative gaze That we were doomed to be abandoned here The distant little station Looked almost forgotten by trains Swaying in the steaming draught Of the July plateau Lonelier than a traveller from distant parts
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Instants
Sometimes the neighbour's pigeons land on my windowledge
Cooing softly
Where the great poplar at the window has somehow
grown beyond the fourth-floor roof
They skim round its crown and back
The sunlight on their fluffy feathers
Alive day by day
I keep coming indoors empty-handed
And throwing book and jacket on the bed
As the days hurry by
I can bring scarcely anything home
Even after days away
Only you remain and the little room
Living day by day
We have grown used
By an unspoken pact to the room's breadth
A pair of pigeons cooing softly on the windowledge
Which at many instants belong to us
Day by day
Dust that falls on book spines gradually yellows
Perhaps it is otherwise
That life, if it does, provides
I know that the unwitting request is not excessive
And that summer turns to autumn
Perhaps fallen leaves will swirl after a night of rain
It does not mean a return to green shade deep in sunlight
A house-cleaning when leisure affords
Feelings may come on latent even as
Irrelevancies are spoken softly
The instant when a first trembling on the lips teaches you happiness
Lasts till the end of life
A request always voiced unwittingly
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I have come to you To spend the calmest time of year in peace The fire need not be very bright It is warm enough here To sleep awhile unwittingly Dreaming of youth Against the brown wooden partition I can almost hear The somewhat distressed humming The old country house May no longer be there With pinks growing slowly on the windowsill Late winter snows float down twilight by twilight To be heard in the solitude against the glass And through the window illuminated by snowflakes The old tree's crotches seem swarthier And the sound of melting snow falling from the eaves Keeps me long from sleep And in my youth I did not sleep till Mother Having slaved daylong From one room to the next Tucked in my coverlet So the snowflakes gradually tuck in memory of the past And I faintly hear Twigs fall And the kettle singing On the warm fire
���dz��ѵ����� �ƻ����Ʈ����ͣ (���������ŵ�Сһ��) ��Щ�����Ѿ�Զ�ÿ������� �����ں�һ�����������Ի� ��ңԶ��İ�� ��Щ��ȥ������ ��������д�ø�ȷ�� У�����Ҷ���� Ʈ��һ�� ���е��������Զ �ߵ����˷��� ��Ҷ�ڷ��й��� ����ȴ�ܴ��� ���������������ڸ�ԭ������ �ݳ����� ��Ⱥ���¹������� ���һ�����������ȥ�� ������ĽŲ��� ������߸ߵ�¥��ǰ Ϧ���������ĸ�Ⱥ ���ڲ�֪���ĸ���̨�϶��� ���ѵ�������Ʈ Ʈ�ú�Զ Flute in Rain This is the sound of a flute In waves of twilight rain Days beyond our sight The autumn speaks again To a young man Distant and strange The past Is clearer than any book describes Yellow leaves blew Over the campus In a season clear and high Drawing that wonderful cool sense of emptiness Yellow leaves always But that pure flute fills the way Like wandering a July plateau Boundless grass in rolling hills Hooves in the midnight clay Yet I still hear the past Old autumn's footfalls Outside this high window Pigeons flashed at dusk On whose balcony do they now roost? The sound of a flute drifts loosely, drifts into distant space
������ˮ�����ֵĽ����� ��ʱ��һ�������Ľ��������������� ��һ���������ջ������ ��һ��Ҫ֪������˭ �������˴��в����ҵ��� Ҳ����ˣ�ѩһֱû��Ʈ���� �������ڹ�����֪����ô�మ�� Χǽ�ϵ���ȸ��ȥ�ֻ��� �ڿ����ļ��ڹ��� ÿһ���߹��ӵ��˶����в�ͬ�ĸо� �˺�������ô�మ�� ��ʱ���ű�����Զ�ľ��� ѩһֱû��Ʈ���� ����������˲�������Ǧ��ɫ����� ����ķ�ʹ���鷢�� Ҳ���Ǵ�δ��ѩ���Ʋ�ܵ� ����֪������ˮ���ĸо� Ҳ����ʱ���Ѳ�����ô˵ ����ѩһֱû��Ʈ���� Still It hasn't Snowed Not from the meter of water or music But from unnamed rhythm and gloom A voice more tempting than mystery You don't need to know who you are Fantasy won't find you in a crowded bar with that possibility, still it hasn't snowed Nobody knows the love between peach trees Sparrows fly from the courtyard wall After the season of untouched flowers Everyone passing will feel differently How do people love each other? Sometimes they're more distant than trees And still it hasn't snowed Although immersed in the leaden sky Fantasy's front holds passion down Perhaps the low clouds of unfallen snow Never know The feeling of letting go Perhaps you might not say so then But still it hasn't snowed
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The Sound of Dripping
The steady sound of dripping in the kitchen
And you are struck mercilessly
Outside the midnight dream
The girl who went astray in the grey streets
Pierced the time of street-end greens and vanished
flowing water
And is no longer young
But one man's inner lustre can illuminate her
Lighting up the years
And others' impartial judgement
You wrap up well and hurry through the mist
Of autumn rain blown down by cold wind
And its ceaseless traffic
And the family in the skyscraper
Stands still behind your back in the murky rain
Life may pinch now
But water still drips ceaselessly through interstices of fate
And the ineffable conclusions
Keep up their torment
Which is perhaps why
People avoided you in the first days
And he understood under the open umbrella
The truth in the line in the old man's poem
That the grace of God flows on to a metal skeleton
People differ
What did the umbrella keep off besides the rain
A dim ray of light
Through all that is familiar produces profound anguish
And you toss and turn as you dream
And then you often hear outside the midnight dream
The steady sound of dripping in the kitchen
�Ǵ��죬Ҳ���Ǵ��� �����ã��Ƿ�Ҳ�п� ����������ңԶ ��Ұ��һƬ�����У����� ���������ܼ��ĵط��ٸ����糤 �Ҽž���ͻȻ���߽��� �����üȾ��������� ����Ȼת��������Ļ����������� �Ǵ��죬Ҳ���Ǵ��� ��ů�ķ紵�������� ��ɫ�Ļ���������ƵĿ��� ���ǵ�㡢���ǵ�� ֯��е��� ����ֻ�����˵���⼾�ڶ������� �Ǵ��죬Ҳ���Ǵ��� It Is Spring And It Is Not Spring it is and it is not She is nice, but cruel as well Ever far away Covered in the mist were the fields Spring reaches as far as it can To promote the roots growing I approach you quietly without your awareness Love goes on concretely but mysteriously Smoothly you turn around Spring flowers to embrace into your breast Spring it is and it is not Warm breeze sweeps through the woods Golden desire flashes in green flames Sparks and glitters, sparks and glitters to weave the net of feelings Spring it is and it is not The season is such for us This is what I want to tell you