▋没有什么是我的
川美

首先，你不是我的

一棵核桃树是我的吗
树上的小鸟是我的吗
还有那美妙的吟唱，随轻风一同消逝了
——它们，是我的吗

蝴蝶兰举起满枝蝴蝶
从窗台上朝我望过来
这蝶与兰，是我的吗

还有我的房子——
如果我出一趟远门
我和它的关系尚不及蜗牛与背上的壳
还有权力，当我握住它时
我自己就是最听使唤的工具

所以说，没有什么是我的
你不是，我——也不是
我看见死亡在远处朝我诡秘地笑了一下
它暂且允许我在阳光下行走
偶尔，也在月光下逗留



Nothing is mine.
Chuan Mei

First of all, you're not mine.

Is a walnut tree mine?
Is the bird in the tree mine?
And the beautiful chanting that fades with the wind.
--They... Are they mine?

The phalaenopsis holds up a branch full of butterflies.
Look over at me from the windowsill.
The butterfly and the orchid, are they mine?

And my house...
If I go on a trip.
I'm not as close to it as a snail is to the shell on its back.
And power, when I hold it.
I myself am the most obedient tool.

So, nothing is mine.
You're not, I'm not... either.
I saw death smiling wryly at me from afar.
It allows me to walk in the sun for a while.
Occasionally, they linger in the moonlight.


译/梵君



▋逝
川美

我想告诉那个怀抱鲜花走向墓地的年轻人
你父亲不在那儿，那坟墓下面
只埋葬着他遗落的一些灰尘
真实的他，一部分埋在
某个深爱他的女人的心里
——在她活着的年月
一部分，被他自己弄丢了，或者
藏在连他自己也找不到的地方
其余的，拆成零散的册页，给了
包括你在内的亲人
每个人到头来都是那样一本线装书
书名叫记忆，书页比树叶
易碎，易腐，易降解
其真实性尤其令人怀疑，而且
天底下没有一处可以保存它的图书馆



Passing
Chuan Mei

I'd like to tell the young man carrying the flowers to the cemetery.
Your father's not there. He’s under that grave.
Just some of the dust he left behind.
The real him, partly buried
In the heart of some woman who loves him
-- for as long as she lived
Partly, he lost it himself, or
Hiding in a place he couldn't even find.
The rest, broken up into fragmentary volumes, were given to the
Loved ones, including you.
Everyone ends up with the same book.
The book is called Memory. The pages are more than leaves.
Fragile, perishable and biodegradable
Its authenticity is particularly suspect, and
There isn't a library anywhere in the world that can keep it.



译/梵君

好诗！

蝴蝶兰 在英文里俗称moth orchid，蛾子兰 带来的画面感好不同哈哈。