They are just passing clouds
Like a burst of mood, tucked away by me in a document
Yang Yujun is a seasoned poetess from China
Yang Yujun was born in Beijing and lives now in Guangdong. Her poems first appeared in newspapers and magazines in 1986 and has written and translated various works totaling 9 million words, published in various anthologies. Her collections of Chinese and English poems include GARDEN IN WINTER, THE HANDON THE MOUSE IS TURNING COLD.
杨于军，生于北京，现居广东。 1986年开始发表作品。迄今写作、翻译九百万字，入选各类文集。出版个人中英文诗集《冬天的花园》《拿鼠标的手变凉了》。
(Translate by Ma Yongbo)
Accidental Rain
They are just passing clouds
Like a burst of mood, tucked away by me in a document
They don’t drench the ground completely
Just as a reined-in emotion leaves no consequences behind
Blocked by the sunshades on every window
And the outdoor units of air conditioners
They make a noise like bickering
Even though the ACs haven’t been turned on for a long time
If this same rain were in the wild
It would melt into the pond, forgetting its identity as rain
Or fall into the grass
A comfort to the tiny, fragile creatures there
Or be passed along by leaves one after another
Not wetting the bird’s nest, not wetting
The feathers of the chicks under the leaves
Nor me, who might be standing beneath the tree
This shower of rain must have been prayed for
Whether secretly or out loud
Some hoped it would come
Others wished it would pass
***
偶然的雨
它们只是路过的云
像一阵情绪，被我收在文档里
并未把地面完全浇湿
也像控制的情绪，没有造成任何后果
被每户窗上都有的遮阳板
空调外机拦住
发出争吵般的噪音
即使空调很久没有启动
同样的雨，若在野外
融入池塘，完全忘记雨的身份
或者落进草丛
是对弱小生灵的抚慰
或被叶子依次传送
不打湿鸟巢，不打湿
叶片下小鸟的羽毛
和可能站在树下的我
这阵雨，一定被祈祷过
被隐秘或说出
有人希望它到来
有人希望它过去
***
Unjoined Journey
Chance becomes the sum of all experiences
Having traveled one path
I can imagine countless others
Having visited one former residence
I can imagine innumerable more
Having read one page of a manuscript
I can imagine endless such pages
A garment with unknown origins
Perhaps its owner never wore it
Hung where he often stood
Visitors sense the breath of days gone by
Right now, I am in a house called “home”
It belonged to others in the past, and will belong to others yet
I write this poem
Without a signature, it could be anyone’s
***
未加入的旅行
偶然成为所有经验的总和
走过一段路
可以想象很多路
去过一处故居
可以想象很多故居
读过一页手稿
可以想象很多手稿
一件衣服不明来历
可能主人并未穿过
挂在他经常站立的地方
来访者感受曾经的气息
此刻我在叫做家的房子里
过去是别人，也将是别人的家
写下这首诗
不署名，可以是任何人的
***
Returning
To practice spiritual cultivation, there’s no need to retreat to mountains and forests
Every moment of tranquility can be an ashram
When doing housework, just focus on doing
Movements gentle and slow, emptying the mind
—peeling garlic, return with them to blooming, to soil
Making soybean milk, return to the pods, to the stems and vines
Washing dresses, return to the threads, to silkworms and mulberry leaves
Drying the quilt, and by the way, surrendering myself to the sunlight too
Wiping the windows, wipe off floating dust, with the heart clear and pure
—this is a day of serenity after the typhoon
The tangled clouds drift from one side of the window to the other
Before I finish painting, they have disappeared
But what does it matter
Let the oil paints return to minerals, to sap of plants
Leaving only a sky of azure meditation
No longer grasping with force, arms will return to wings
Following your summon that is getting more and more distinct
***
回归
修行，无需隐逸山林
每一段清静都是一处道场
干活的时候，只是干活儿
动作轻缓，放空思想
——剥蒜，和它们一起回归开花，回归土地
打豆浆，回归豆荚，回归茎蔓
洗衣裙，回归丝线，回归蚕和桑叶
晒被子，顺便把自己也交给阳光
擦玻璃，抹去浮尘，胸襟澄澈
——这是台风后的一日清明
彼此纠缠的云从窗子一侧，飘到另一侧
没等我画完，就消失了
又有什么关系
让油彩回归矿物，回归植物汁液
只留一片蔚蓝的冥想
不再用力抓取，手臂回归羽翼
跟随你渐已清晰的召唤
***
Sugar Wrapper
Between the pages of the diary
Lies an orange Swiss candy wrapper
Once smoothed out with apparent effort
Yet its small square brick shape still shows
The sweet-sour taste from thirty years ago
From beneath my tongue, filling my nostrils
Now the film rewinds
Back into the candy jar
Back among the strawberries, pineapples, and limes
Back to the road where I held my daughter’s little hand on the way to kindergarten
Back to the green train, where I folded the empty wrapper into a tiny figure dancing in a dress
Further back, my daughter returns to my arms
Saying “candy” for the very first time
Then I return to myself
Back to the closet I couldn’t reach even on tiptoe
In the house with balconies front and back
Back to the courtyard with fruit trees
Lilacs still held their fragrance, and cherries already breathed out sweetness
Memories ease the regret of wasted time
May, in the final moment of my life
My consciousness
Also return to that sweet summer in the north
***
糖纸
空白日记本里
一枚橙色瑞士糖纸
被努力抚平过
仍可以看出小方砖形
三十年前的酸甜
从舌底涌起，充盈着鼻腔
现在胶片倒播
回到糖罐里
回到草莓，菠萝和青柠中间
回到拉着女儿的小手去幼儿园的路上
回到绿皮车里用吃完的糖纸折穿裙子跳舞的小人儿
再远一些，女儿回到我的怀抱
第一次说“糖糖”
然后回到我自己
回到踮起脚尖也够不到的壁橱
在前后有阳台的房子
回到有果木的大院
丁香还有余香，樱桃已发出甜甜的气息
记忆减轻了虚度的遗憾
希望生命最后的时刻
我的意识
也能回到北方甜丝丝的夏天
______________________
Read: Life and Death – Poetry from China
