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牧野诗歌十四首(中英对照)

2022-9-11 10:08| 发布者: zhwyw| 查看: 51817| 评论: 0|原作者: 牧野|来自: 中华文艺网

摘要: 牧野,本名黄昌印,世界诗歌网副总编辑、《世界诗歌》杂志副主编、牧印轩文艺负责人、中国诗歌学会会员,朦胧诗社社长。2021年被希腊文学艺术学院授予文学博士荣誉学位。2022年被博鳌国际诗歌节组委会任命为副秘书长 ...

牧野诗歌十四首(中英对照)



★ 刀客


走夜路的人

心里都藏着一把刀

每次跌倒,就会被刺痛


在白天不够时,我

也会在黑夜中行走

变成了黑色的一部分


每一次夜行

都会离远方越来越远

每一次归来

都会离死亡越来越近


我知道

所有带刀的人

都是有背景的


或是,被道路颠跛了脚

或是,被阳光亮瞎了眼


与所有刀客一样

走不出黑暗的人

最终,都会倒在自己的刀下



★ 我用写一首诗的时间,打个盹


浇花喂鱼,种瓜遛鸟

这些体力活(此处可以会心一笑)

我是不会让家人干的


从一个花蕾到盛开

一条小鱼到抱卵

我喜欢,陪它们走过全部过程

 

我会用写一首诗的时间,打个盹

然后打开阳光,重复着乡间生活

 

观察一粒种子,是怎样长出瓜果

一只雏鸟是怎么破壳展翅

这也是我,开心的时刻

 

有时,我还想种一本书

看看写诗的人,是如何被大地养活



★ 红黄蓝


我有一点近视

对了,还有一些散光

医生说,没有色盲

能分辨“三原色”

 

美好的事物,总是相通的

比如,红花

比如,蓝天

就连在西风中瑟瑟的金秋

也是被人,所向往的

 

当然,以上种种

都需要有阳光,或者

用生命燃烧的火

黑暗中,只能看到一片黑色



★ 一棵树的春天


无处可逃的根须,紧抱故土

把远山浓缩成一个雕塑

 

没有飞鸟,没有云雾

一簇苍翠的绿色

抚不平,庭院的寂寞

 

把世界装进瓦盆的人

以为天空,可以分割

欢乐,可以移植

将春天,交给了一棵树



★ 海的名字叫寂寞


银河在张衡之前,早已干涸

鹊桥,只是满天星斗编织的一个谎言

什么样的故事,可以与碧蓝相衬?

海天一色,时常演绎着烟雨蒙蒙


仰望苍穹,把吐出去的苦水又咽了回来

在心中,激起无数个漩涡

千年沉船,默默细数着极光的里程

被定海神针扎痛的,不只是寻路人


一袭月色,在广阔无际的海平面荡漾

永远无法探测到恶魔谷的深渊

掩埋了几万年的人之初,静静地注视着

注视着潮起潮落的,阴晴圆缺



★ 语数外中的人生


人生若是标点符号

它不会永无止境地追求一个目标

得到的都会划上句号

失去的也将省略忘掉

什么梦想誓言 都是浮云

她只属于青春年少


人生就像一个圆

起点与终点都在同一个地方

只要走完 就算圆满

直径长短 又有何妨?


人生如果是个字母

A并不重要

后人流传的是

它组合的单词是否意义非凡

团队所造的句子能否千古流芳


人生也是一道难解的题

所有的答案都不分对错

因为它解的只是你我自己



★ 手机


不是什么异端,只是

心与心的碰撞,在魔术师的手中突变

如果非要把生和死,判为两个世界

我会用一部手机来复活幽灵


一切起源,一切归宿

以及一切的经过

都可以掌控在,五指之间

弹奏出蓝色,黑色,亦或红色的乐章


躲在黑暗中的黑眸

再也无需面对,一戳即破的笑脸

摇摇晃晃的舢板,冲破巨浪

在虚拟人生,演绎着一个个

新的南柯



★ 暗红


所有的,赞美词汇

几乎已被春天收尽

当一些人,还在搜肠刮肚

为晚春谱写赞歌的时候

莫名中,我开始替夏天担忧


我担心,濯清涟的荷花

不能在烈日下,亭亭玉立

山坡上的栀子花,无法等到

匆匆一瞥,就会枯萎


尽管,萧瑟的秋天

离我和春天,有点遥远

在争妍斗艳的,庭院中

我却偏爱,万绿丛中的那一片暗红



★ 刮骨疗伤


收集了毒药,火焰

匕首,以及撕心裂肺的痛

我要找回遗失的肋骨

为它刮骨疗伤


先用毒药,祛除神经上的蛊

再用愤怒的火焰,烤上九九八十一天

然后,我会在它的全身刻上正道

刮去前世今生的红尘,用血洗尽


哪怕有无数次的刻骨铭心

都必须清零,承受千锤百炼

我只要,在虚情假意的人间

独自走完,最后的一个轮回



★ 安家


我要截下一片苍穹

或者,一朵浮云

散养在幕墙之后


所有的山路、公路、高速路

乃至,淹没在高楼下的街道

都被凌乱的脚步踏碎

飘零着,一个个落魄的幽魂


没有远方的,颠簸

让所有梦想,都成了汪洋

把无数的涓涓细流,埋葬


我已看见,激流岛的浪花

正慢慢地向我走来

……


呐喊吧!所有的苦难与卑微

失去了笔,和鲜花

只渴望,命运能还我一点天空

安放,几千个散落的汉字

和一个无法释放的,乡愁



★ 浪费


人的一生,是交给浪费的

以前是,现在也是

在有精神的年代,浪费了肉体

物质丰盈的时候,浪费了精神


我也是这样,在餐桌上浪费过

成长中,抉择时都浪费过

直到浪费得,空空如也时

只好交出了,灵魂



★ 困兽


每当月牙爬上树梢

世界就有一种莫名的骚动

不仅是风,摇曳的阴影

昏暗的路灯光晕,我感觉

四处有无数双绿色的,眼睛

盯得我发怵,振奋


有一只巨兽,在我躯体中

呼之欲出,我紧紧捂住胸口

在黑白未明之时,急需

一只樊笼,困住我和我的兽

谨防走火入魔



★ 那一天


天空,只留下一只眼

灵与魂的轰鸣

半截绳索,无视刀的审判

缚住一片浮云


空山幽谷中的松枝

光秃秃的,任由斜风嘲笑

群峰无处眷恋


清凌凌的浅滩,已面目全非

用一行行浊水

把刻骨铭心,冲洗得干干净净

往事,烟消云散


在晚枫红遍山野的季节,

我路过那一天

看见了同样的天空,同样的水

还有一棵苍松,高耸入云



★ 等待翱翔的鹰


在布满荆棘的悬崖上

我已经面壁了十年

以乌云为被

用晨雾洗脸


在每一个失眠的夜晚

我总是仰望着天空

祈祷明天的世界

能看到蓝天与白云


我从没怕过风暴与雷电

尽管它们曾经击伤过我的翅尖

我只是不愿与黑暗为伍

在雾霾中飞行


在漫长的等待中

我从未忘记自己是王者之鹰

在无限的孤独中

我也没失去展翅翱翔的天性


我一直在等待

等待在涅槃重生之后

可以重回蓝天

傲视崇山峻岭



[China] Mu Ye

Fourteen Poems of Mu Ye


★ Swordsman


He who travels at night

Hides a sword in the heart

And gets hurt every time he falls


I too would travel in dark night

When daytime is not long enough

Making myself part of the dark


Every travel at night

Furthers me from the far

Every return

Lets me closer to death


I know that

All the swordsmen

Have stories of their own


He may jolt with the bumpy road

Or may be glared blind by the sun


Similar to all swordsmen

He who cannot walk out of the dark

Will finally fall by his own sword



★ Taking a Nap with the time of Penning a Poem


Watering the flowers, feeding the fish

Planting some greens or walking the pet

--These are manual labor (a knowing smile is allowed)

Which I wouldn’t let my family do


From a tiny bud to a full bloom

Or a small fish to its spawning

I like to witness the whole process


I’d take a nap with the time of penning a poem

And then open the sun, repeat my rural life


I’d observe how a seed grows and bears

Or watch over a birdie coming out of an egg

These are my happy moment as well


Sometimes I’d fancy planting a book

So as to figure out how a poet is fed by the earth



★ Red, Yellow, Blue


I’m a little bit nearsighted

And astigmatistic

The doctor said no achromate

Could distinguish the primary colors


Beautiful things always share something in common

Like the red flowers

Or the azure sky

And the yellowing autumn in west wind

Is too expected by people


Of course the aforementioned

Need sunlight’s presence

Or fire burning with life

In darkness, one can only see the dark



★ Spring of a Tree


Nowhere to hide, the roots just hold fast

To their birth-soil, shaping a sculpture

Out of the far mountains


No birds, no clouds

A shrub of dark green

Cannot soothe the solitude of the courtyard


The one that fills the world in pots

Thought the sky could be divided

And happiness could be transplanted

Giving the spring to a tree



★ The Name of the Sea is Loneliness


The milky way before Zhang Heng the astronomer

Has gone dry for long and the Magpie-bridge is but a lie

Woven by the stars all over the night sky

What story could match the azure blue?

The sea and the sky share the same color

Giving rainy and foggy performance all too often


Looking up the welkin, grievance is swallowed up again

Numerous vortexes forming up in the heart

The sunken boat of ages counting the auroral distance in silence

Not just those lost ones are stung by the trident of God


The moon lights and ripples the vast surface of the sea

Never able to reach to the very bottom of the evil abyss

The very beginning of aeon for man stares quietly

At the ebb and flow of the sea and the wax and wane of the moon



★ Life in Language, Maths and Foreign Language


If life is punctuation marks

It would seek to achieve a target dauntlessly

A period following what is gained

An ellipsis given to what is lost

Vows or dreams are but floating clouds

That belong just to the youth


Life is like a circle

With its end and origin at the same point

When it is complete, it is perfect

Why care so much about the length of diameter


If life is a letter

It doesn’t matter whether it is an A or a Z

What can be handed down

Is whether it means something in a word

And the sentence with it sounds great


Life is too a perplexing puzzle

The solution to which is neither right nor wrong

Because what it tries to solve are just you and me



★ Mobile Phone


Not something strange, just

A crush of hearts, magic working in a magician’s hands

If life and death are categorized into two worlds

I would restore life to a phantom with a mobile phone


All the origins, all the fates

And all the processes

Can be controlled in a single hand

Playing a blue, black or red movement of symphony


Hiding in darkness, the black eyes

Need no more to face the capricious face

The shaking sampan, breaking through tidal waves

Deducing in a visualized life

Chinese Rip van Winkle one by one



★ Dusty Red


All the complimentary words

Have been taken in by spring

When some are still storming their brains

To eulogize the late spring, I begin

To worry unaccountably about summer


I worry that the lotus bathing in cool water

Cannot stand gracefully under the hot sun

And that the jasmine blossoms on the slope

Cannot wait for my glance before withering


Though the bleak autumn

Is a bit far from me and spring

I prefer in the flower-chorusing courtyard

The patch of dusty red among the expanse of green 



★ Scraped-bone Therapy


Collecting poison, flame

Staggers and searing pain

I want to recover the lost rib

To cure with the scraped-bone therapy


Poison comes first, to drive out spiritual vermin

Flame comes after, baking a hundred days

Then I would carve all over its body justice

Scraping off the mortal dust of the past and present world

And then washing it clean with blood


Despite the countless times of memory haunting

They must be all cleared, accepting tedious tests

I only want to pass the last samsara alone

In this hypocritical world



★ Residing


I want to intercept a patch of the sky

Or simply a floating cloud

Then to raise them behind curtain walls


All the hill tracks, roads, highways

And even the streets sunk beneath tall buildings

Are all trodden broken by disorderly steps

Drifting aimlessly, like heartless ghosts


There being no bumpiness from distance

All the dreams become vast seas

All the trickles are buried deep


I see sprays from torrent island

Walking slowly towards me…


Shout out then, all the suffering and humbleness

My pen and flowers lost

I just hope that fate can return me a little patch

Of the sky for me to place the scattered characters

And the nostalgia that is hard to release



★ Waste


The life of a man is meant to be wasted

It was and it still is the case

We waste our bodies in times of spirit

And our spirits in times of ample materials


So do I, wasting on the table at meal

Wasting during my growth and choices

Until there is nothing left to waste

After that, I have to hand in my soul



★ Caging the Beast


When the crescent crawl to the twigs of tree

The world would be in an unreasonable tumult

Not only the wind, the dancing shadows

The dim halo of the lamps, I can also feel

All around me there are countless green eyes

Staring at me. Terrified and exhilarated


A giant beast inside my body

Is ready to leap out. I press hard my chest

Before the day breaking, I need urgently

A cage for me and my inside beast

In case of an aberrancy



★ That Day


Only an eye is left in the sky

Spirit and soul roaring

A half length of rope, blind to the judge of knife

Binds a drifting cloud


The bare twigs of the pine

In the empty valley let the wind mock at will

Nowhere in the mountains is worth lingering


The rippling shallow beach has changed beyond recognition

Let the turbid water

Wash clean the dogged memory

All the past long gone with the wind


In the season of reddening maple

I passed that day

Saw the same sky and same water

And a green pine towering into the sky



★ Waiting for the Soaring Hawk


I’ve been facing the wall for a decade

On the cliff covered by thistles and thorns

Where I make my quilt out of the clouds

And wash my face with morning mist


In every insomnic night

I always gaze far into the sky

Praying for a blue one with white clouds

On the next day of the world


I never feared storm and thunder

Though they hurt my wings

I don’t want to befriend the dark

And fly in the smog


In the long waiting

I never forget I am the king hawk

Even in endless loneliness

I didn’t lose my nature of soaring


I have been waiting

That I could go back to the blue dome

And overlook in pride the mountains

After my reincarnation


(Translated by Brent O. Yan)


 

 

作者简介:

牧野,本名黄昌印,诗人、编辑,原籍浙江,现居上海。世界诗歌网副总编辑、《世界诗歌》杂志副主编、牧印轩文艺负责人、中国诗歌学会会员,朦胧诗社社长。生于上世纪七十年代,八十年代开始诗歌创作,1988年发起组建了朦胧诗社,并创办民刊自任主编。九十年代中期下海创业,2015年回归诗坛。多次受邀出席一些重大诗歌文学活动,获得国内外诗歌奖项若干,有不少诗歌作品收录于知名刊物和重要选本。2021年被希腊文学艺术学院授予文学博士荣誉学位。2022年被博鳌国际诗歌节组委会任命为副秘书长。曾任中国作协主办的中国诗歌网总编助理、技术总监、上海频道站长等职。(有修改)



About the author:

Mu Ye, a famous contemporary Chinese poet, whose real name is Huang Changyin, is originally from Zhejiang and now lives in Shanghai. He is deputy chief editor of the World Poetry network, deputy chief editor of the World Poetry magazine, literary director of Muyin Studio, chief editor of Shanghai Poetry network, member of Chinese Poetry Society, and representative poet of Misty Poetry. Born in the 1970s, he began to write poetry in the 1980s. In 1988, he initiated the establishment of the Obscure Poetry Society, and founded a people's journal as the editor-in-chief. In the mid-1990s, he started his own business and returned to the poetry world in 2015. He has been invited to attend some major poetry and literature activities for many times, and has won a number of poetry awards at home and abroad. He once served as the technical director, column editor in chief, Shanghai channel stationmaster of China Poetry network sponsored by China Writers Association.

 

 

译者简介:

颜海峰,男,曲阜人,诗人译者,山东省作家协会会员、国学双语研究会会员、英国比较文学研究会(BCLA)会员。同时担任东西方艺术家协会副主席、华人诗学会副会长、中国比较文明学会理事、中国英汉语比较研究会典籍英译专业委员会理事、《国际诗歌翻译》(原《世界诗人》)季刊客座总编、国际学术期刊《东北亚外语论坛》《商务翻译》编辑部副主任和东北亚语言学文学和教学国际论坛助理秘书长等职。著有诗集《一页水山》《残忍月光》,译有《神游》《平原善辞》《梧桐树》《爱的教育》等近30种诗集和世界名著,编著《世界文学经典》《中国古典诗歌精选精译》等,译诗、双语诗、中文古体诗散见于《江南诗》《诗殿堂》《国际诗歌翻译》等杂志期刊,并见录于《中国诗选》《双年诗经》《汉诗300首》等选本。曾获2012年获国际诗歌翻译研究中心、国际汉语诗坛最佳翻译家称号,2016年第四届中国当代诗歌奖翻译奖,2017年“首届中华国魂杯·放飞中国梦诗书画大展”诗评金奖,2019年东西方艺术家协会“杰出贡献奖”,2020年美丽中国世界华文诗歌大奖赛银奖。


About the translator:

Brent O. Yan, original name as Yan Haifeng, born in Qufu (Confucius’ birthplace), is a poet and translator. He is a member of Shandong Writers’ Association, Chinese Classic Bilinguals’ Association and British Comparative Literature Association, vice-chairman of Chinese Poetry Association, vice-chairman of East-West Association of Artists, councilor of the Chinese Society for the Comparative Study of Civilizations, member of Chinese Information Processing Society of China, guest editor of the Renditions of International Poetry, executive translation editor of Poetry Hall, vice editorial director of Northeast Asia Forum on Foreign Languages, Business Translation and assistant secretary general of Northeast Asia International Symposium on Linguistics, Literature and Teaching. He has published two poems collections, i.e. A Page of Rill and Hill and Cruel Moon, about 30 translated collections of poems and world classics, such as Mind Wanders, An Ode to the Plain, The Phoenix Tree andCuroe, etc. He also compiled The World Literature Classics and Translation of Classical Chinese Poetry. His poem translation, modern poems and poems of ancient Chinese styles scatter in Poetry Magazine, World Poets Quarterly, Tianjin Poets, New Poetry, Square Poetry Magazine, Jiangnan Poetry, Poetry Hall, etc. and anthologies like Anthology of Chinese Poetryand Two-year Book of Poetry: an Introduction to Contemporary Chinese Poetry. In 2012 he won the annual “International Best Translator” Award issued by International Poetry Translation and Research Center (IPTRC), “Best Translator” in Contemporary Chinese Poetry Award in 2016, Gold Prize of the Chinese Spirit Cup—Flying the Chinese Dream Exhibition of Poetry, Painting and Calligraphy in 2017, Outstanding Contribution Award of East-West Association of Artists in 2019 and Silver Prize of Beautiful China—the World Chinese Poetry Contest, etc.

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