我和我的火車和你

1

我——有兩天沒睡好覺內心糾葛。等一下可能會嘔吐

火車站一排大理石座椅上我看著小書——裏面有波赫士——或許他和我的行李——可以安慰我

我的淚淹到一行字上但沒有滴下。它們不輕易離開我。我儲存了一整座水庫夠用好幾年

最近眼睛壞得可以壞到壞到

等一下火車將經過你居住的海洋。我將看到你。懷中有我把我的骨頭磨出水來

我很想回家但火車站每個人更像親人我想站起來向他們微笑

但沒有人打擾我我秘密地把翅膀展開

2

啼哭是一種自救火車開了

淚滴到窗上一行一行有的不太合作好像有些疼痛分段進行

獨自一人時比天空堅強。天空放聲大哭但沒有打濕行李

行李中有何物：蠟燭筆記本。狄菫遜。我和十九世紀。互相捏在手心

3

今天不能叫做幸福——冷。潮濕。肚子不餓

還好。天有點昏暗。暗得像退回到十八世紀

沒有收音機。燈泡打更者剛留下幾道霜風

燈籠是紅色。杏花殘落柴火點燃，下了碗細麵條——

主人書房裏的硯凍著——粗心的奴僕被打發到二十一世紀借一隻快筆——

他撿到一個新名字並且穿上主人不認識的慢跑鞋

4

火車不肯安靜大家互相鼓動噪音

只允許一種動物(——其他動物被禁止——)在外面飛翔

另一頭的阮籍哭著快和火車相遇了(——火車喜歡走上窮途——)

大家裝瘋賣傻說前面有一個酒窖賣酒的娘子來自第三世紀

某些時候她觀察入微特別重視釀酒的細節

你可以醉倒在她身旁(——一整排火車都變成詩人——)她會一一翻譯你身上有酒味的詩句

5

我們在火車上讀著——「淤泥」這個字我喜歡

我們能超越現實嗎洗衣機的聲音像緊箍咒

還有一種機器——能消解矛盾嗎

我們必須在火車上聽鋼條互相碰撞傾軋傾軋——

宇宙太狹小了嗎如何掘地便埋把火車輕忽

從最初出發——這個虛無被建構成龐然大物

這個土木形骸拆碎之後——(淤泥這個字——我喜歡)

6

今天將飛躍山溝(又過了一天)

飛躍懸崖(又過了一天)

飛躍深淵(又過了一天)

世紀末是一天世紀初也是一天

7

我們的親密關係：無言的互望。黑暗中陌生的呼吸

雨打在路過的玻璃窗上。逗點跑進來句子貼滿牆壁

列車—著火了正在切碎黃昏

從每個不同的站抓來詩人故鄉是要從何說起呢

第六世紀的詩人推敲音韻——

容貌飄搖但是有胭脂有油燈還有——

誰去找回那幾隻蚊子那頂蚊帳——

找回祖父母

8

一種存在的突顯：隱士黑色的頭巾——

渦狀的雲杉，還是雪中的柴扉，在燃燒——

我的心臟滾動，藏匿在這座山中——

天翻地覆之後——葉子落盡

伸手接住了樹枝——

幼小的獸漫行——我的童僕，脆弱地挾一具琴

順著我的腳印，山路蜿蜒

我的主要動脈——瀑布傾瀉而下

(二十世紀各種主義喧嘩——)

跨過這座木橋我的驢子嘶鳴

提醒我——正走過第四世紀的山水

牠將說身體就是這麼回事

還有什麼——能使我冰涼而顫抖

9

炊煙。村子的心跳

我們羞於啟齒的永恆都在其中

「野」這個字——是我的故鄉

我想起波特萊爾。普拉斯狄菫遜。茨維塔耶娃

我添加炭火。由紅而黑由灰而白——

我守著爐灶————無原因的任務

10

冬眠的時候父親缺席

我走到另一邊母親是火車喉嚨低啞

咳嗽的人站在中間——

我們經過海洋親人一年見一次面

不得不喝酒。嗑瓜子小孩子在某一站開始遊戲

我們非常需要小孩祭祀。寫日記

我的喉嚨非常癢所有的注意力集中——

把眼淚擠出丟進海洋——

身體內部——

Myself, My Train, and You

Ling Yu

1

I-for two days deprived of sleepMind tied in knots. Soon I may have to vomit

I sit on one of the station's marble benchesReading a paperback-with Borges inside-maybe in himOr in my luggageI can take comfort

Tears brim to a line of textBut do not drip. They do not lightlyRoll from me. I have stored up a whole reservoirEnough to last me for years

My eyes are getting bad these daysGetting bad enough to understand Borges

Soon the train will pass by the oceanWhere you live. I will see you. I am in your heartThis is squeezing water out of my very bones

Wish I could go back homeBut people in the station are more like kinfolkWish I could stand up and smile at them

But nobody bothers meIn my secret wayI unfold my wings

2

Weeping is a form of self-rescueThe train starts movingTears are on the windowMoving down in linesSome will not run readily,Like the kind of painThat proceeds in stages

On my own I am more long-sufferingThan the sky above. The sky sobs out loudWithout wetting the suitcase

What is in the suitcase: candle,Notebook, Dickinson. The nineteenth centuryAnd myself, pressed in each other's palms

3

Today would be hard to describe as blessedCold damp air, no hunger in the gut

Could be worse. The sky looks dusky, dimmed downAs if retreating to the eighteenth century

Having no radio. No lightbulbChilly drafts left by the night watchman

Lantern shaded in red. Wilted almond petals fallingKindling set alight, boil a bowlful of thin noodles-

Ink stone frozen in the master's studyCareless servant sent awayTo borrow a fiber-tip penIn the twenty-first century

He stumbled upon a new nameTried on a pair of jogging shoesThe master would not recognize

4

The train is not in the mood to be quietWe are all drumming up noise for each other

Only one kind of animal is allowed(-other animals prohibited-)To fly about outside

Over there at a dead end, Ruan Ji stands cryingSoon he will encounter a train(-trains like to run on roads that hit dead ends-)

All of us are acting crazySaying there is a tavern up aheadThe barmaid comes from the third century

At times she notices subtle thingsPays heed to details of fermentation

You can lie down drunkenly beside her(-poets line up along the whole train-)She is able to translate each line of your bodyAs long as it smells of wine

5

On the train we keep reading-"Quagmire" is a word I like

Can reality be surmounted?The sound of a washing machineIs like "Mantra of the Constricting Headband"

What machine do you think is capableOf dissolving contradictions?On the train we must listenTo steel slamming on steel barsPounding one against the other-

Has the universe gotten too narrow?How does a thing get buried?Put the train out of mind

Set out from the very beginning-this nothingnessHas been built upInto a giant monster

Until this sturdily fashioned frameComes undone-(One word I likeIs "quagmire")

6

Today we will go bounding over a ravine(another day spent)

Leaping past a cliff(another day spent)

Leaping over an abyss(another day spent)

End of a centuryJust another dayStart of a centuryJust another day

7

Our intimacy: exchange of looksWithout words. In the darknessUnaccustomed breathing

Rain falls on passing windowGlass. Commas splash inside,Sentences are pasted all over the wall

Our passenger train-lit on fireSlices the dusk apartAt every stop it grabs up poetsWhen the...