筛子

辽东天赖


我发现天空就是个网眼
它那么巨大，让我的命运固定下来
当我仰望它时，看到的
往往是小而旧的自己
就像刚才，我凝视着那片灰云彩
却是在默数半生以来的
孔洞：那些懵懂的；
不爱不恨的；不悲不喜的
那些循环，复制的，可以折叠的
那些遗忘了的；没有写诗的......日子
一个个，全都是网眼啊
可我并不惊异。只是好奇
一个变成筛子的人，身体里还会剩些什么
总记得那时，母亲晃动着筛子
荚皮和沙土纷纷摇落
残阳斜照，四周浮漾着红尘
筛下的光影，也被搅得粉碎——
终于停下来。
满筛子圆鼓鼓的黄豆，多么饱满
而这样的事情总会发生：
一些棱角分明的石子
执拗地隐藏在
黄豆里，怎么摇晃，也不肯落下去


The Sieve

小饮译

I find the sky is a mesh
Big enough to fix my fate
Looking up at it, I’ll see myself
So small and old
Just now I was staring at that gray cloud
Counting silently
The holes through half my lifetime: those that were ignorant
Neither loved nor hated, neither sad nor happy
And circular, replicate, foldable
And forgotten; those days of no poetry writing
Were all meshes
But instead of being surprised, I’m just curious
What is left of a man who has become a sieve
I always remember that time when my mother shook the sieve
And the pods and sands fell off
The setting sun shone slantingly, the red dust floating around
And the shadow under the sieve stirred to pieces —
Finally all stopped
The round soya beans in the sieve were so full
And there’s what always happened:
Some sharp-edged stones
Obdurately hid in
The soya beans, refusing to fall down however hard they were shaken


.

筛子

辽东天赖


我发现天空就是个网眼
它那么巨大，让我的命运固定下来
当我仰望它时，看到的
往往是小而旧的自己
就像刚才，我凝视着那片灰云彩
却是在默数半生以来的
孔洞：那些懵懂的；
不爱不恨的；不悲不喜的
那些循环，复制的，可以折叠的
那些遗忘了的；没有写诗的......日子
一个个，全都是网眼啊
可我并不惊异。只是好奇
一个变成筛子的人，身体里还会剩些什么
总记得那时，母亲晃动着筛子
荚皮和沙土纷纷摇落
残阳斜照，四周浮漾着红尘
筛下的光影，也被搅得粉碎——
终于停下来。
满筛子圆鼓鼓的黄豆，多么饱满
而这样的事情总会发生：
一些棱角分明的石子
执拗地隐藏在
黄豆里，怎么摇晃，也不肯落下去


The Sieve

小饮译

I find the sky is a mesh
Big enough to fix my fate
Looking up at it, I’ll see myself
So small and old
Just now I was staring at that gray cloud
Counting silently
The holes through half my lifetime: those that were ignorant
Neither loved nor hated, neither sad nor happy
And circular, replicate, foldable
And forgotten; those days of no poetry writing
Were all meshes
But instead of being surprised, I’m just curious
What is left of a man who has become a sieve
I always remember that time when my mother shook the sieve
And the pods and sands fell off
The setting sun shone slantingly, the red dust floating around
And the shadow under the sieve stirred to pieces —
Finally all stopped
The round soya beans in the sieve were so full
And there’s what always happened:
Some sharp-edged stones
Obdurately hid in
The soya beans, refusing to fall down however hard they were shaken


.