A river that has flowed for three thousand years

Wants to keep a piece of

The waves from last dusk…

Yao Hui is a poet from Renhuai City, Guizhou Province of China

Yao Hui, of Han ethnicity, was born in Renhuai City, Guizhou Province in January 1965. He has published poetry collections such as The Man Who Collects the Sound of Wind and A Tribute to Li Bai, a prose poetry collection On the Plateau, and a short story collection Walking Through the Endless Rain, etc. He has won awards including the Top Ten of the 5th Chinese Poetry Biennale, the 9th China Prose Poetry Award, the Mountain Flower Literature Biennial Award, the October Poetry Award, the Annual Award of Stars Prose Poetry, the Poetry Award of Writer magazine, and the Yangtze River Poetics Award.

姚辉，汉族，1965年1月生于贵州省仁怀市。出版诗集《收集风声的人》《致敬李白》、散文诗集《在高原上》、小说集《走过无边的雨》等。获第五届汉语诗歌双年十佳、第九届中国•散文诗大奖、山花文学双年奖、十月诗歌奖、星星散文诗年度奖、《作家》诗歌奖、扬子江诗学奖。

(Translated by Ma Yongbo)

Fanjingshan, Guizhou, China -Wikipedia photos

Du Fu

From paper to bronze—of the flesh

Its efficacy fades by degrees

Yet pain and love have found

Their final confirmation

It is not merely the ache of March

Those who feed on spring’s intent, from blossoms

With their more tangled details, catch sight of

Vigilance soon to stretch on

From the Great Tang Dynasty

Do not simply consign them

To the vigilance of paper

While silk retreats to distant

Opulence—they

No longer need such watchfulness

Shadows of halls crumble by inches

What still do you hope to prop up

With two feet of shimmer

From the Jin River’s waves?

Bronze is twisted into spears

Partridges bathed in fire wheeling and dancing

Like a vast expanse of spring

Worth wasting, over and again

Why does bronze abandon its vigil?

From March to September

Wind and smoke no longer cling to doubt

From September to this dusk at hand

Bronze sharpens again

Your gaze across the ages

Who presses the boundless vastness

With their left hand, eroding its edges?

The other trembling hand

From the rust of bronze, retrieves

Half a handful of words that transcend

Green flame and love

***

杜甫

从纸质到铜    肉身的

有效性逐渐减弱

但痛与爱却得到了

最终确认

那不仅只是三月之痛

以春意果腹者    从比较

繁琐的花朵上觑见

即将从大唐延续

而下的警觉

别简单将它们

归入到纸的警觉

而绢帛缩在较远的

浮华中    它们

已不需要这种警觉

殿堂之影逐渐塌陷

你还想借锦江的两尺

波光  撑住些什么？

铜被扭曲成戈矛

浴火的鹧鸪    旋舞

像一大片值得被反复

浪费的春色

铜为何放弃警觉？

从三月到九月   

风烟不再坚持质疑

从九月到这眼下的黄昏 

铜  让你隔世的眺望

再度清晰

谁左手紧按的苍茫

蚀了边界？

另一只颤抖的手又从

铜的锈迹里    拾回

半把超越绿色

火焰与爱的文字

***

The Beipan River Bridge on the Liupanshui–Baiguo Railway in western Guizhou is one of the highest railway bridges in the world.

The One Who Paints Mountains and Rivers

First he subtracts the mountain ridges from the paper

The brown stones, the silk-like clouds

Subtracts the trees heavy with birdsong

And the trees’ invisible joints

Then subtracts the earth that casts seeds

To the wind—this is also the earth

Wrapped in fire and dreams—

Subtracts the water beside the earth

A river that has flowed for three thousand years

Wants to keep a piece of

The waves from last dusk

He subtracts the waves’ future

Now, a painting

Hesitates into being

The paper is turning into a legend

That ink stains must forever

Be wary of…

***

画山水的人

他先从纸上减去山脊

褐色石头  丝绸状的云

减去挂满鸟声的

树及树的隐形骨节

然后减去将种子抛在

风中的土  这也是

裹着火与梦境的土——

减去土边的水

一条流了三千年的河

想留下一片

上个黄昏的波浪

他减去波浪的未来

现在  一幅画

犹豫着出现

纸正变成

墨渍必须永久

警惕的传说……

***

Zhenyuan, a county in Eastern Guizhou

Song

The man who hangs the sea on a tree

Is some mark of dusk

He is a bit paranoid

He has made clear the wrinkles of the sea

He once made the sea part of a dream

He can make the sea condense into blue star lanterns

In the strong wind, the star lanterns have a reserved

Tortuous path

He is the one who turns the road into lightning

The entire sea, hung by him

On the slanting branches

He has copied the oldest cry of the sea

***      

歌

那个将大海挂在树上的人

是黄昏的某种记号

他有些偏执  

他说清过大海的皱纹

他曾经让海成为梦境的一部分

他可以让海凝结成蓝色星盏

在疾风中  星盏   有一条预留的

曲折之路

他是让道路成为闪电的人

整座大海   被他挂在

倾斜的树枝上

他复制出了大海最古老的呼叫