Beside the stove he spent his whole life
Father’s two lung lobes were the first to hoist the white flag…
Qiao Guoyong
Qiao Guoyong, born in Shizuishan, Ningxia. Now lives in Lishui, Zhejiang. Member of Zhejiang Provincial Writers Association, editor of Zhejiang Poet. His poems, translations and reviews have been published in journals including Poetry Periodical, Yangtze River and Poetry Monthly. He is the recipient of the Grassland Literature Award for Poetry. His translated poetry collections include Silent Homeland, Buddha Lamp, The Sound of Sawing Wood and The Throbbing Thumb.
宁夏石嘴山人，现居浙江丽水。浙江省作家协会会员，《浙江诗人》编辑。诗歌、译诗、评论见于《诗刊》《扬子江》《诗歌月刊》等刊物。曾获《草原》文学奖诗歌奖等奖项。出版翻译诗集《沉默的家园》《佛灯》《锯木声》《疼痛的拇指》。
Translated by Ma Yongbo
Fire-Drinker
Beside the stove he spent his whole life
Father’s two lung lobes were the first to hoist the white flag
This kind cook
This bucket brimming with bitter water, on the verge of
Escaping the wellhead
With a splash, hurled heavily back down the well
He once abandoned his homeland, left his lonely old mother behind
Yet it was never his will. For this
He was chased all his life by serpent tongues; in his eye sockets
Frost bleaker than his mother’s settled long before its time
The deity’s syringe, inside his body
Injects kin’s sickness, maiming, betrayal…time and again
Then draws out all proof of requital and plea in one pull
The busiest verb hijacked Father’s whole life
He ought to find peace in a quiet death
Even though shrapnel lies buried where his bones will rest
Even though, inside his marrow canal
Grief and longing that never fade remain imprisoned
饮火者
灶台边耗了一辈子
父亲的两片肺叶最先挂起了白旗
这个仁厚的厨子
这只盛满苦水，眼看着就要
逃离井口的木桶
扑通一声，被重重地抛回井底
背弃过故土，撇弃过孤苦的老母亲
但这并非他本意。为此
他一生都在被蛇信追赶，眼眶里
早早挤满了比老母亲还凄绝的霜气
神祗的针管，在他的身体里
一次次注射亲人的疾病、伤残、悖逆……
又一次性抽走回馈和申辩的证据
最忙碌的动词挟持了父亲一生
他应该心怡于安静的死亡
尽管埋骨之地也深埋着弹片
尽管，他的髓管里
还囚禁着永不消散的悲伤和挂念
_____
Awakening of Insects
In the open ground, sorrel only sinks its roots deep
Bent on feeding its thick, rough stems and leaves
Motherwort huddles in clumps, competing with patches of mugwort
To see which will be overlooked more by the weed-cutter
Oxalis and clover know well the subtle art of surviving by yielding
So long as they do not cross the line, they stand the best chance
To weather, unbroken, this spring
Trembling under the ravage of fearful curiosity
Glechoma and mock strawberry stay strangely calm
They can persuade autumn to bear the remorse of some blood-seekers
The stream swells with allure, spoiled by yesterday’s rain
An egret skims back and forth above the water again and again
Her unfurling blurs pure upward gaze and insidious possession
Wary little wild ducks cross over time and again
Hidden hooks and nets spare the rare, absent-minded urge
Robins, like fairies long confined in a cold palace
Chase water hyacinths swept down from the upper current in delight
Sometimes they stand on drifting green stalks
Drifting with the current, free of all thought
I fix my gaze on this plain spring light before me, neglecting
Above my head hangs the thunderclap, its fuse already lit
惊蛰
空地里，酸模只管深深地扎根
一心养活肥厚毛糙的茎叶
益母草抱着团，同成片的野艾蒿比较
看谁最终被除草的人忽略更多
酢浆草和车轴草熟稔示弱生存的隐意
只要不逾越，它们最有希望
毫无折损地熬过因惧怕好奇心的蹂躏
而惴惴不安的春天
活血丹和蛇莓却异常平静
它们能劝和秋天接纳一些嗜血者的愧悔
溪流因昨天雨水的宠幸而鼓胀起魅惑
一只白鹭贴着水面一遍遍往返
她的打开混淆了纯洁的仰视和阴险的占有
谨慎的小野鸭数次横渡
偷设的网钩放过了忘神而久稀的冲动
鸲鸟像被久拘寒宫的仙女
欢快地追逐着从上游冲下来的水葫芦
有时她们站在飘荡的绿茎上
随波逐流，心无杂念
我专注于眼前质朴的春光，懈忽了
头顶正悬着已点燃引线的惊雷
_____
Heavy Snow
Mother, today I curl up in the southern drizzle
To chat with you about the fate of dogs
The puppy I confined on the balcony of the new house
Often drags her kennel away from the spot I set
So she can keep watching me
Sitting on the sofa through the glass door
At times like this, I move to the far end of the couch
To slip out of her sight
This brings to mind the dog you once kept
After father passed away, she stayed with you in the old house
Before you moved to the city, she seemed to sense your trouble
And began wandering off, first a night away
Slipping back to check on you, then gone two days, three days
You knew, she was saying goodbye slowly
So your heart might endure the pain on the day you really left
Mother, today is the anniversary of your death
I only wish I could become a dog, never taking quiet leave
Just lie down at the glass threshold between life and death
Watching you, without shame, forever…
大雪
妈妈，今天我蜷缩在南方的阴雨里
和你聊聊狗的命运
被我软禁在新居阳台上的小狗
经常把她的狗窝衔离我安排好的位置
以便透过玻璃门能一直看到
坐在沙发上的我
每每这个时候，我都要挪到沙发的另一端
让她离开我的视线
这让我想起你养的那条狗
父亲离世之后，她一直陪你住在老屋
要搬到城里之前，她好像觉察到你的难处
就经常跑出去，先是一夜不回来
溜回来看看，然后是两天、三天的见不到影子
你知道，她是在向你慢慢告别
让你在真正离开那天能忍住心疼
妈妈，今天是你的忌日
我只想当一回狗，不悄悄告别
就卧在阴阳之间的玻璃门前
毫无羞怯地、一直看着你……
_________________
Read: Listening to the Wind – Chinese Poetry
