The Changing Room: Selected poetry of Zhai Yongming

The Song of Historical Beauties

140 时间美人之歌 某天与朋友偶坐茶园 谈及，开元、天宝 那些盛世年间 以及纷乱的兵荒年代 当我年轻的时候 我四处寻找作诗的题材 我写过战争、又写过女人的孤单 还有那些磨难，加起来像椎子 把我的回忆刺穿 我写呀写，一直写到中年 我看见了一切 在那个十五之夜 : 一个在盘子上起舞的女孩 两个临风摆动的影子 四周爱美的事物—— 向她倾斜的屋檐 对她呼出万物之气的黄花 鼓起她裙裾的西风 然后才是 那注视她舞蹈之腿的 几乎隐蔽着的人 月圆时，我窥见这一切 真实而又确然 一个簪花而舞的女孩 她舞，那月光似乎把她穿透 她舞，从脚底那根骨头往上 她舞，将一地落叶拂尽 141 tHe sonG oF HIstoRICAL BeAUtIes Sitting in a tea garden with a friend one day Our talk turned to Kaiyuan and Tianbao That gilded age Those days of chaos and strife When i was young i searched high and low for things to write about i wrote of war, of women’s loneliness and about hardships that came together like an awl Piercing my memory and i write and write, writing myself into middle age i saw the entire thing that night, the 15th of the lunar month: a girl dancing on a platter a pair of shadows swaying in the breeze Surrounded by admirers — the eaves inclining towards her golden chrysanthemums wafting the scent of all creation towards her the West wind lifting her skirt and sash and then Someone nearly hidden transfixed by her dancing legs Under a full moon, i watch it all Unquestionably real a dancing girl with flowers in her hair She dances, the moonlight seeming to pass right through her She dances, movement flowing up from the bones in the soles of her feet She dances, sweeping away the fallen leaves 142 (她不关心宫廷的争斗) 她只欲随风起舞、随风舞) 四周贪婪的眼光以及 爱美的万物 就这样看着她那肉体的全部显露 当我年轻的时候 少数几个人还记得 我那些诗的题材 我写过疾病、童年和 黑暗中的所有烦恼 我的忧伤蔑视尘世间的一切 我写呀写，一直写到中年 我的确看到过一些战争场面 : 狼烟蔽日，剑气冲天 帅字旗半卷着四面悲歌 为何那帐篷里传出凄凉的歌咏 ? 一杯酒倒进了流光的琥珀酒盏 一个女人披上了她的波斯软甲 是什么使得将军眼含泪花 ? 是什么使得绝代美女惊恐万状 ? (她不关心乌骓马嘶呜的意义 她只愿跟随着它，跟随他) 除了今夜古老的月亮以及 使我毛发直竖的寒风 还有谁 ? 注视着这一堆 淤血和尸骨混合的影象 143 (She gives no thought to palace intrigues Desiring only to dance with the wind, to dance with the wind) Surrounded by hungry eyes and the admiration of all creation Watching as her flesh is laid bare Very few people remember What i wrote about When i was young i wrote of illness, of childhood my darkest days and all their troubles in my misery, i looked down on this mundane world and i wrote and wrote, writing myself into middle age i can say i’ve witnessed scenes of warfare: Smoke swallowing the sun, blades piercing the sky the generals’ standards half furled, dirges filling the air Why do we hear such mournful songs outside the tent? a glass of wine is poured into a shining amber cup a woman dons her soft Persian armor What makes the general’s eyes fill with tears? What makes that peerless beauty quake in fear? (She gives no thought to the neighing of the emperor’s horses, Wanting only to be with him, to be with him) tonight, apart from the ancient moon and a chill wind that raises the hairs on the back of my neck, Who else is there? eyes fixed on this mound of images of spilled blood and broken bones 144 当我年轻的时候 我丢下过多少待写的题材 我写过爱情、相思和 一个男人凝视的目光 唯独没有写过衰老 我写呀写，一直写到中年 西去数里，温泉山中 浮动着暗香的热汤 一件丝绸袍子叠放在地上 西去数里，勒马停缰 厌战的将士一声呐喊 黑暗中总有人宣读她们的罪状 西去数里，逃亡途中 和泪的月光 一根玉钗跌落在地上 (她听不见动地的颦鼓声 她听见绵绵私语，绵绵誓) 千军万马曾踏过这个温泉 那水依然烫，依然香 后世的爱情，刚出世的爱情 依然不停地涌出，出自那个泉眼 某天与朋友偶坐茶园 谈及纷纷来去的盛世年间 我已不再年轻，也不再固执 将事物的一半与另一半对立 我睁眼看着来去纷纷的人和事 145 When i was young i had so many ideas that never saw the light of day i’ve written of love, of longing and the steady gaze of a man the only thing i haven’t written about is growing old Writing and writing, writing myself into middle age Some miles westward they ride, to hot springs in the hills to soak in that faintly fragrant water a silk gown folded on the ground Some miles westward they ride, reining in their mounts to a halt War-weary officers and men call out for blood there’s always someone in the shadows, denouncing women for their crimes Some miles westward they ride, and as they flee the moon weeps with them a jade hairpin tumbles to the ground (She doesn’t hear the rumble of war drums shaking the earth She hears the unbroken flow of whispers, unbroken strings of oaths) Legions of soldiers and thousands of horses have trod past these springs their waters are as warm as ever, and just as sweet Love after death, and love newly born Well up from that source, as they always have i was sitting with a friend in a tea garden one day and our talk turned to how swiftly golden ages come and go i’ll never be young again, never again be so willful as to pit one half of creation against the other i watch with wonder the flurry of people and things as they come and go 146 时光从未因他们，而迟疑或停留 我一如既往地写呀写 我写下了这样的诗行 : 147 time has neither paused nor stopped, not for any of them i keep on writing, just as i always have and these are the lines i wrote: “One night, under a full moon They abandoned themselves to passion Leaving their bodies limp to the core Men, oh men At first they praise a woman for her beauty But...