A Grave in the Mountain

On my way to the peaks in the southeast, I came across a grave
Its face of an unknown dynasty, concealed by the withered grass
A mound, a broken gravestone and two ashlars *
Had an equal share of death amongst them

On Chinese New Year’s Eve, the grave was newly covered with **
Ginger-coloured paper money, updating the old sorrow
For the passers-by to see the dead end of all the heroes and understand
that there wouldn’t be any good fengshui in a corrupted universe ***

There might have been an oil lamp, lit in there, or webpages that refused to
Open as the person might have been waiting for a spoken message
All around, time, though, was returning, the air filled with premonition

In an open ground, left for the noon sun
A sparrow leapt to a branch over the grave, staring at the inscription
Its claws folded and raised in front of its face, as if in pray

As I approached, the person, tightly enclosed with the inscribed lines
Tried to persuade the one so sick outside
In a language mixing the vernacular with the literary
All the words written in a wind

When spring came, screams of laughter would burst out
through the softened and loosened soil
And, to its left in the front, peach flowers would move the mountain streams

After I went afar, on the section of a slope
I turned to watch that small grave
And saw, in one glance, the source of solitude
Turning to ashes every second between heaven and earth

* Ashlar (l. 3): finely cut stone masonry.
** Chinese New Year (ll. 5-6): traditionally (and possibly as early as the fourteenth century B.C.) a period to honour elders, ancestors and deities, which begins from the preceding “reunion” evening of the first day of the new moon (in January/February) up to the fifteenth day of the first lunar month known as the Lantern Festival. Amongst traditional activities invoking good fortune are decorating windows and doors of family homes with red paper figures and giving money in red envelopes.
*** Fengshui (“wind water”) (l. 8): the practice of harmonizing persons and their surroundings, which was historically adapted over a period of three millennia to orienting spiritually significant structures—be it an auspicious building site or a tomb—in terms of the natural world, such as constellations of stars or bodies of water.

《山间坟茔》

去往东南诸峰途中，遇一座旧坟
枯草掩映着它不知哪朝哪代的面颊
一个土包、一块断碑、两块条石
把死亡均摊

春节前夕，坟上刚刚压了姜黄色的冥纸
使得悲伤又被刷新
让经过者看清所有英雄的末路
弄明白在一个坏了的宇宙里不会有好风水

里面或许点着一盏油灯，里面或许有打不开的网络链接
那人或许还在等一个口信
四周的时间在返回，空气充满预感

一片开阔地留给了晌午的阳光
松鼠跳到墓碑上方的树枝，瞅着碑文
双拳相抱，求签问卜

我走近了，那被两三行碑文紧紧关闭在里面的人
试图文白夹杂
说服外面这个病得不轻的人
话语全都写在了风上

春天来时，里面的纵声大笑会透过变松变软的土层
传递出来
在它的左前方，桃花感动山涧流水

走远之后，在一段上坡路
又回头暸望这座小坟
我瞥见孤独的源头
天地悠悠，每秒钟都正在变成灰烬

At a Mountain Pass

I stopped at a mountain pass
the mouth of a road between the two clusters of peaks
at the back of a fallen ancient temple, not far off
and I faced east, on my way down to another small village

I stopped at the mouth of a mountain pass
as I noisily turned its pages, opening up a new chapter
it was a bean goose that had guided me here *
where I was watching the skies after it’s gone, leaving not a trace

I stopped at this mountain pass
where a peasant woman sat alone at the foot of a sheltering cliff, selling
black dates to me, from a sack, dates with more seeds than flesh, looking
poor, having absorbed the taste of dust and comforted me
in my childhood, they now came to comfort the heart of one who had failed

I stopped at this mountain pass
where the tailbones of the two ridges linked up after they extended
and gradually got closer
I would like to mark this pass on a map and give it a name
for I’d like to hear my own echoes

I stopped at such a mountain pass
and a cloud happened to have also drifted here
looking powerless, in the shape of a seeming pregnancy
as it started moving ahead, I waved my farewell
it and I, forgetting each other

I stopped at a mountain pass
as it was getting late, there was a huge threshold at dusk

* Bean goose (l. 7): these wild geese figure prominently amongst generations of Chinese poets, often symbolizing such natural polarities as migratory or settled, autumn or spring, south or north, the single goose (separated from its mate or its flock) often symbolizing loss.

《山垭》

我在一个山垭停了下来
两簇峰峦之间的这个路口
背向不远处一座倒塌的古寺
胸襟朝东敞开，去往山下一个小村

我在一个山垭口停下来
山的册页被我哗哗乱翻，至此打开新篇
是一只豆雁把我引到这里
它飞得没了踪影之后，我仍然望着空中出神

我在这个山垭停下
一个农妇孤坐避风的崖根，向我兜售黑枣
它们盛在布袋里，肉少籽多，长相贫寒
吸取了尘土的味道
它们安慰过我的童年，现在又来安慰一个失败者的内心

我在这个山垭停下来
这是两道山脊延伸并渐渐靠近之后
尾骨衔接之处
我想在地图上标注这个垭口，给它起个名字
我想听到自己的回声

我在这样一个山垭停下来
有一朵云恰好也飘到了这里
它看上去没有力气，形状像有了身孕
它继续往前移动时，我向它挥手告别
彼此相忘

我在一个山垭停下来
天色渐晚，黄昏有一个巨大的门槛

I Followed You

I followed you. I was so delighted this evening
The whole of this South Hill in May
Were the words I’d love to say to you
To express myself, I’ve love to turn myself into a wild chrysanthemum
One after another

I followed you. I did not look at you
And I knew you were vast
When the wind swept across the red rooftops down the hill
I looked up at the skies and knew that the white fog line
Interconnecting the south and the north was a despondent plane.

I followed you. My heart rustling
Was a wild rabbit that hid itself in a bush
While a pine tree was shrugging its shoulders
Pine cones of last year fell onto the ground

I followed you. The purple Chinese scholar tree was so quiet *
That bees were perched on its column-shaped flowers
The tiny leaves of a Chinaberry tree resembled my hairpin **
And time would soon pass
To become a gravestone in the cluster of grasses, with faint inscriptions

I followed you
And was wrongly led by you into a deep valley
It was getting late and the fragrance of the flowers came with such darkness
The great bluestone sighed an ancient sigh
Where I could see
My previous life in the country of my birth

* Chinese scholar tree (ll. 15-16): also known as the dark green-leafed (and in July/August fragrantly flowering) pagoda tree and native to the drier, if not arid, western plains of western China. The scholar tree served as official memorials from the Western and Eastern Zhou dynasties (i.e., from approximately B.C. 1146 onwards) and its timber was used in the construction of ships, carriages, and utensils; its flowers for yellow dye; and the tea derived from its bark for healing burns and staunching bleeding.
** Chinaberry tree (l. 17): popularly known as deciduous lilac trees, notable for the colour of its timber (ranging from light brown to dark red), its hard seeds (used for making beads), and its toxic leaves acting as a natural insecticide when storing food.

《山上》

我跟随着你。这个黄昏我多么欢喜
整个这座五月的南山
就是我想对你说出的话
为了表达自己，我想变成野菊
开成一朵又一朵

我跟随着你。我不看你
也知道你的辽阔
风吹过山下的红屋顶
仰望天空，横贯南北的白色雾线
那是一架飞机的苦闷

我跟随着你。心窸窸簌簌
是野兔在灌木丛里躲闪
松树耸着肩膀
去年的松果掉到了地上

我跟随着你。紫槐寂静
蜜蜂停在它的柱形花上
细小的苦楝叶子很像我的发卡
时光很快就会过去
成为草丛里一块墓碑，字迹模糊

我跟随着你
你牵引我误入幽深的山谷
天色渐晚，袭来的花香多么昏暗
大青石发出古老的叹息
在这里我看见了
我的故国我的前生

A Wooden Comb

I went to visit you, with a wooden comb
in the southern wind that was young and wild
to that province, with you in it, that city, 32 degrees north latitude,
and 118 degrees east longitude. *
I had no treasure box except this comb, made of peach-flower-heart wood
to comb away my leisurely concerns and my slight migraine.
There, I’d like you to give me a pet name
in accordance with the widely grown plants:
plum flowers, laurel blossoms, jasmine, maple, and even water chestnut
as they were my sisters from, and my nostalgia for, a previous life.
We lived by the water
the one next to us was the Yangtze and the other, the Canal **
and there’s also a ferry, called the Melon Sandbar
where we sat by the carved wooden window
eating the water shield and a perch while drinking Biluo Spring tea ***
and glutinous rice wine,
producing poetry that would have made it
expensive to buy
and talking about life while playing a chess game
waving all rancour off, gently with a silken fan.
That’s the way I often think of going back to the ancient times
to enter into the ink-and-wash mountains and waters
and lead a happy life, called ‘Qinyuan Spring’ or ‘Dream-like Ling’ ****
I, your woman with her cloudy hair lightly lifted, and you, my man
with your official career at an end.

* 32 Degrees North Latitude, 118 Degrees East Longitude (l. 3) suggests Nanjing, one of the four great ancient capitals, in the Jiangsu province of eastern China, situated in the Yangtze River delta. Apart from periods of being razed and rebuilt, the inland port city of Nanjing has always attracted intellectuals and artists from the Tang dynasty onwards (from 618 A.D. onwards), a highpoint in Confucian, Daoist, and Buddhist thinking. It, too, is probably best known in more recent times for regaining its capital status under the short-lived republics of Sun Yat-Sen in 1912 and of Chiang Kai-Shek in 1927 and again in 1946. More pointedly, Nanjing was the site of wholesale slaughter and rape, arson and looting between mid-December 1937 and late-January 1938 by Japanese troops under the leadership of Yasuhiko Asaka, the (still bitterly contested) death toll of those few weeks exceeding 200,000 civilians and soldiers.
** The Canal (l. 11): presumably an abbreviated reference to the 1,776 kilometre Grand Canal from Beijing to Hangzhou and thereby joining the Huang He (“Yellow River”) and the Yangtze through the province of Jiangsu amongst others. Its precursor was first initiated in B.C. 486 and fully completed by 609 A.D. by a combination of re-channelling rivers and excavating canals to fulfil both military and commercial goals during that period.
*** Water Shield (l. 14): an aquatic plant, often found in clean, calm, warm port waters in green and red stem varieties. Both leaf and stem are covered in a clear gel. Mainly planted in early April or late August, its leaves and stems are usually edible after two months’ growth and cooked as soup. | Perch (l. 14): carnivorous fish, the Balkhash variety found in China being similar in size and colouring to that found in Europe. Worth noting is that the Nanjing style of Jiangsu cuisine includes dishes with even taste and matching colours incorporating river fish. |  Biluo Spring Tea (l. 14): a fruity, aromatic green tea originating in the Dongting mountain lakes of Jiangsu. Because the tea, usually cropped in early spring, is rolled into a tight spiral, the Chinese name—biluochun—literally translates as “green snail spring.” | Glutinous Rice Wine (l. 14): nowadays served as a sweet soup or pudding; the making of wine reputedly originating with the ancient, bronze-age Shang dynasty, dating approximately between B.C. 1556 and 1046 and situated along the eastern reaches of the Huang He (“Yellow River”).
**** Qinyuan (l. 21): a city on the Bei (“North”) River of the southern province of Guangdong and well known for its access to hot springs such as Sankeng and Yinzhan. | 'Dream-like Ling' (l. 21) refers to the tune for which lyrics are composed.

《木梳》

我带上一把木梳去看你
在年少轻狂的南风里
去那个有你的省，那座东经118度北纬32度的城。
我没有百宝箱，只有这把桃花心木梳子
梳理闲愁和微微的偏头疼。
在那里，我要你给我起个小名
依照那些遍种的植物来称呼我：
梅花、桂子、茉莉、枫杨或者菱角都行
她们是我的姐妹，前世的乡愁。
我们临水而居
身边的那条江叫扬子，那条河叫运河
还有一个叫瓜洲的渡口
我们在雕花木窗下
吃莼菜和鲈鱼，喝碧螺春与糯米酒
写出使洛阳纸贵的诗
在棋盘上谈论人生
用一把轻摇的丝绸扇子送走恩怨情仇。
我常常想就这样回到古代，进入水墨山水
过一种名叫沁园春或如梦令的幸福生活
我是你云鬓轻挽的娘子，你是我那断了仕途的官人。

The Railway Station

Its crowds that were vast, its station that was shivering
Its hot rails that meandered with all the fate
Its steps and overpasses that conveyed a busy time
Its big clock that echoed the farewell
Its sky above its steeple that was so high and far, matching the miles
Its whole building that was sinking with too many a sad departure
Its dark underground exit from which I emerged, unkempt
the wheels of my suitcase rolling behind me across the brick-cube pavement
sending forth a rumbling noise of my remaining youth

《火车站》

它的人群苍茫，它的站台颤动
它的发烫的铁轨上蜿蜒着全部命运
它的步梯和天桥运载一个匆忙的时代
它的大钟发出告别的回声
它的尖顶之上的天空多么高多么远，对应遥遥里程
它的整个建筑因太多离愁别恨而下沉
它的昏暗的地下道口钻出了我这个蓬头垢面的人
身后行李箱的轮子在方块砖上滚过
发出青春最后的轰轰隆隆的响声

In the Evening

When the wind came blowing from the south
Across the embankment, the wings of the sparrows
and the clothes of the village
And when it came blowing over your head and mine
It changed into a most tender breath, without us realizing it

The best part of the sun’s head pressed into the dawn redwood
And the person, bent over his vegetable plot in the last evening glow
Looked like he was praying over the land
The scarecrow, standing on one leg
Had a sudden feeling in the darkening light that he had no kin to turn to
And when the last rickshaw ran across the road with a yell
The day’s dust had all come to settle

I could hear the river sighing not far off
A snail getting stuck on the wet roof
A wild chrysanthemum at my foot shaking with a soughing sound at dusk
And a lizard leaving its humble name on a stone

This evening was so light, and so heartsore
I knew not when your arm, lightly, encircled my waist
Like a bundle of grass, freshly cut
Oh, I am a bundle of green grass in your arms
Grass on the sandbar in the heart of the river, grass in the heart of a lamp

《傍晚》

风从南面吹来
吹过江堤，吹过麻雀翅膀，吹过村庄的衣裳
当它吹过我和你的头顶时
不知不觉换成了最温柔的口气

大半个太阳脑袋被按入水杉林
那在最后夕光里弯向菜地的身躯
像是朝大地做着晚祷
那单腿站立的稻草人
在渐暗的光线里突然感到举目无亲
当最后一辆人力车吆喝着驶过了路面
整整一天的尘埃全部落定

我听见江水在不远处轻轻叹息
蜗牛粘在潮湿的屋顶
脚下的野菊在暮色里摇晃出沙沙声
一只蜥蜴在石头上留下了褐色的卑微的姓氏

这个傍晚多么轻，多么让人心疼
从什么时候起，你已轻轻揽起了我的腰
就像搂着一捆刚刚割下来的草
哦我是你臂弯里的一捆青草
是江心洲的草，是灯心草

Ten Years

The ten years in my plan are neither long nor short
enough for me to be acquainted with every tree on this island
and to be able to call every grass by its scented name
enough for the grape garden to suck dry the sweet from the earth
for the river water to scour the stones of the embankment till they shine
for the small cat under the loquat tree to become the oldest grandma *
for an ant to travel from the southernmost end of the island to its
northernmost
and for me to turn into a peasant woman, and back into a poet

Ah, ten years are neither short nor long
enough for my internal organs to experience war and peace
till my life enters into the autumn
enough for us to be what it was like before
gone missing for eight years before we met again, by appointment
and enough for you to go through layers of accumulated darkness
to dig up the Loulan, from within me **

* Loquat Tree (l. 6): a dense evergreen fruit tree native to the cooler hills of central and southern China, with yellow aromatic flowers.
** Loulan (l. 15): first mentioned in B.C. 126 during the Han dynasty as a fortified settlement was strategically placed along the western route later known as the Silk Road. Owing to a lack of water, it was abandoned in approximately 330 A.D. and disappeared from historical records. (The region nowadays is associated with the Uyghur people.)

《十年》

计划中的十年，不长也不短
足以使我结识这个岛上的每一棵树
叫出每一株草的芳名
足以使葡萄园吸干大地里的甜
足以使江水把大堤的石头冲刷得发亮
使枇杷树下的那只小猫成为最老的祖母
使一只蚂蚁从岛的最南头行至最北头
使我从诗人变成农妇
再从农妇变成诗人

啊十年不短也不长
足以使体内的器官经历战争与和平
生命进入秋天
足以使我们像曾经的那样
杳无音讯八年，再相约见面
足以使你穿过层层於积的黑暗
挖掘出我身上的那个楼兰

The Mailbox

How far are we from each other? It’s so far from NetEase to Sina
When emails shuttle through optical fibres
Occasionally carrying luggage fixed with a paperclip
The letters emerge while the Chinese characters sink to the bottom of the inbox

The letters I wrote to you and the ones you wrote to me
Sometimes ran, simultaneously, across the lonely Shandong Peninsula **
And, when they met on the way, they pretended not to know each other

We severed our relationship over the email 19 times
And have transported carrots, little red chili peppers and honey
With occasional thoughts like this:
Can we spend the night together in the inbox?

A one-off case saw the mouse click
When the letter bounced and changed its route, roaming around or visiting a relative
Returning after realising about its error or going missing
I have thus lost a load of hay

The big snow now barring the door and the woods falling silent
An unknown power caused the mailbox to connect with the firmament
When an email, written by you, went through the wind and snow
Holding up my night sky and screwing the stars on the curtain

* Shandong Peninsula (l. 6): on the east coast of northern China in the province of the same name which, owing to its location as a strategic crossroad, came under the sphere of influence of Germany between 1898 and 1914 and of Japan from 1919. Before the 1945-1949 civil war, it was subjected during the 1937-1945 Sino-Japanese War to Yasuji Okamura’s “scorched earth” regime between December 1941 and August 1945.

《邮箱》

我们相隔多远？从网易到新浪那么远
邮件在光纤里穿梭
偶尔携带以回形针固定的包裹
字母上浮，汉字在邮箱底部沉没

我写给你的信，你写给我的信
有时同时跑过孤独的山东半岛
半路相遇，佯装不识
继续朝对方营地奔去

我们在邮箱里绝交过19次
运载过胡萝卜、小红辣椒和蜂蜜
偶尔产生这样的念头：
一起在邮箱里过夜

个别时候，鼠标卡哒一声
信会弹跳，改道去流浪、走亲戚
迷途知返或者走失
我曾经丢失过一车干草

大雪封门，树林沉寂
一种不可知的力量使邮箱连接了穹苍
一封你写的邮件穿过茫茫风雪
支撑起我的夜空，把星星旋拧在幕布上