母亲
最安全的寓所，即将坍塌
被一纸诊断书裁定，不能出生的孩子
还在腹中安睡
谁也不忍掐灭
医院里，一个女人的哭腔——
她将向何处倾泻太平洋般
浩瀚，幽蓝，汹涌又温柔的爱的海水
想起小时候爬树碰翻鸟巢
黄黄的蛋液淌了满地，我也曾欠下一个安慰
给那空枝上
被剥夺身份的母亲
咬
在井边淘洗
浓雾中采下的豌豆尖，水芹和新韭
咬青一词使我们内心明媚
更多时候，我们承受
被咬的痛楚：蚊虫，野蜂，蚂蜡，狗或者蛇
一定有什么每天小口小口地咬
直至被天狗整个儿吞服。我们嘴角
还挂着
月亮的笑容
雀子湾的松果
为了成为更好的自己
我们越走越远
回到雀子湾，只是偶然
与雀子湾的松果相遇，是偶然中的偶然
没有哪一种绽放，比它更接近结构严谨的佛塔
被好闻的松香安抚
仿佛自己，也拥有了某种信仰
松涛鸣咽
我无力阻止风，只一次次躬身
拾起更多松果
击水
水边，老宅摇摇欲坠
推土机开过来时，你松开了握紧的拳头
棍子眶当落下
无力回天。你回身望水
多少人在水里洗衣。洗剑。洗个人史。
洗罪。
水都允准——
此时，它沉默地顺从夕阳
披上荒谬的红衣
血丝在眼睛里燃烧
你抄起棍子，像对着怪物推土机
对着水
狠狠一击。身体瞬间抽空
你缓缓收回棍子。你看不见水的眼泪也看不见
水的伤口
Mother
The safest shelter is about to collapse.
The child who has been ruled out of birth by a medical diagnosis
Is still sleeping in its mother’s womb.
No one is ruthless enough to quench,
In the hospital, the woman's cry.
Where will she pour her sea of love,
The Pacific Ocean, vast, blue, turbulent and tender?
Thoughts arise of a child, me, climbing trees and knocking over a nest,
Yellow egg yolks dripping all over the ground. I also owe a comfort
To the deprived mother
On the hollow branch.
Biting
Washing by the well
Tine peas, water celeries and new leeks, all picked in dense fog.
The expression “biting green” brightens our hearts.
More often, we suffer
The biting pain from mosquitoes, wild bees, leeches, dogs or snakes.
There is always something nibbling every day.
The Heavenly Hound finally swallows the whole moon. On our mouth corner,
Its smile
Still hangs.
Pine cones at the Sparrow Bay
To become a better self
We have walked further and further away.
Backing to the Sparrow Bay was just by chance,
Meeting with the pine cone of the Sparrow Bay was a sheerer accident.
It was a blooming flower, yet no other flower but it had the perfect structure resembling a pagoda.
Soothed by the sweet smelling rosin,
I had, as if, some kind of faith.
Pine waves were sobbing.
I could stop no wind, just bowed again and again,
Picking up more cones.
Beating the water
By the water, the old house is ramshackle.
The bulldozer coming, you loosen your clenched fist,
The stick falling down and bang.
Nothing can be done. You turn around and look at the water.
How many people have washed clothes in it? Cleaned their swords. Rinsed their personal histories.
Exonerated themselves.
All has been allowed by the water,
Which now in silence allows the setting sun
To put on it a ridiculous red coat.
Blood burning in eyes,
You pick up the stick, as if to the bulldozer,
To the water,
You launch an attack mercilessly. Instantly you are emptied.
You withdraw the stick slowly. You can't see the water’ tears,
Nor its wounds.
作者简介:
敬丹樱，四川人。参加第35届青春诗会，获第17届华文青年诗人奖。出版诗集《槐树开始下雪》
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大牛，别默默的看了，快登录帮我点评一下吧！:)
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