路过

by Zhu Zhu

昨夜并未喝酒,醒来

却带着宿醉——在旅馆

罩上蒸汽的镜子前,我怔忡地

倾听城区的车流。这里

我认识一位朋友,抛开了天赋

忙于捕捉廉价的赞美;一个

古典文学教授,爱自己的文字胜过

爱他人;一个音乐学院毕业的女孩,

丢失了爱情却爱上这个地方,

她有三份工作和少得可怜的睡眠,

——比这些更悲伤,是

几代人的激情转眼已耗尽,每个人

匆匆地走着,诅咒着,抱怨着,

冥冥中像无数把生锈的剑粘在一起——

这个平常的春日,他们当中有谁

能察觉我带有苛责的思念?

就让他们保持过去的时光中最好的的样子吧。

就让我路过而不拜访,继续孤单的旅程——

嗓子干渴,舌头被烙铁灼伤,

想说的话盘旋在昏沉的大脑里,如此难产,

为此需要年复一年地默祷,

反复地拥抱阵雨,风景,岔路。

我脆弱如树影,在路面的水洼里

感受着被车轮碾过的疼痛;

我冷,因为对面没有光,

人们相见时,都是捻暗的灯笼。

 

passing by

by Zhu Zhu

not a drop last night, yet i woke

feeling hung over—at a hotel

before a steamed mirror, in shock, i

listened to the city’s river of traffic. here

i know a friend, who brushed his gifts aside

and scurried to capture cheap praises; a

classic literature professor, who loved his words more

than he did others; a girl, a music school grad

lost a love yet fell in love with this place,

had three jobs and precious little sleep,

—sadder than this was the passion drained away

from several generations in a flash, all of them

rushing ahead, cursing, complaining,

like countless rusty swords impelled to stick together—

a usual spring day, who amongst them

could discern my exacting wishes?

let them keep the best face on the past.

let me pass by without a visit and continue my journey—

throat dry, tongue scorched by soldering iron,

words swirl in dazed mind, so slow to come,

thus the need to pray year after year,

embrace rain showers repeatedly, landscapes and forked roads.

frail like tree shadow, in the puddles of the road

i feel the pain of being rolled over by wheels;

i am cold, because there is no light on the other side,

when people meet, lanterns are turned down low. 

translated from Chinese by Dong Li
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