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七年 - Seven Years

by Eleanor Goodman

original by Huang Qian

 

七年

回忆细成腕间银链
诱捕悠游鱼群
他的脸还藏在深梦中
偶尔教她哀哭
偶尔夜空骤然反转
她承不住漫天倾倒的恶心
扑落于巉岩翅下
偶尔她醒来在明亮湖边
赤红与银白的花朵环绕小岛
思绪静不可测

有时她绝望地感到
他的力量
如同咒语,如同碾碎思想的
力,她愿变成风筝或者
阴影。有时她沉默注视
他与他的世俗心
在长夜小酒馆蓄着
浓香,在阴天与晴天
隐遁窗与水晶言辞之后
放牧厌世者的轻佻

她像个
追逐闪电的孩子
知道瞬息与永恒的悖论
流丽诗句是火的刻印
夜的沼泽中,拔起
细瘦脚踝,甜柔的歌者
消耗于对一句箴言
无尽润色与编撰
她偶尔在倾斜宇宙中疾飞,而
银链是她的牢狱。

Seven Years

Memories molt to a silver chain on the wrist
a netted shoal of leisurely fish
his face is still hidden in dreams
sometimes teaching her misery
sometimes suddenly reversing in the night
she can’t bear the toppling nausea
that scatters down from the wings of crags
sometimes she wakes beside a shining lake
crimson and silvery flowers surround a small island
and her thoughts are utterly silent

her despair at times makes her feel
his power
like a curse, like the pulverized power
of thought, and she wants to become a kite
or a shadow. At times she silently watches
him and his ordinary heart
gathering its strong scent all night
in a bar, and between clouds and sun
after a reclusive window and crystalline words
there’s the frivolity of a pessimist put out to pasture

she resembles
a child chasing lightning
knowing the paradox of ephemeral and eternal
beautiful poetry is an engraving of fire
pulling up a delicate ankle
from the bog of the night, a tender singer
used up by an admonition
the endless polishing and revising
she sometimes flies falteringly in the tilting cosmos, but
the silver chain is her prison.