Dense fine rain keeps falling
Nanjing city veils itself in dim mist
Horizons vanish from sight
The face of this six-dynasty ancient capital
Appears blurred and weathered.
Gao Xiang, pen names Ye Cun and Gao Zhanyuan, is a senior journalist, poet and film and television director. He graduated from the Department of Chinese Language and Literature, Nanjing University in 1985. He has worked at major news institutions including Xinhua Daily Press, Yangtze Evening News, Chinese Digest Magazine and Xinhua News Agency Jiangsu Branch. In 1982, Gao Xiang founded the Nanyuan Poetry Society of Nanjing University. In 1986, as a core planner and initiator, he established the renowned Nanjing Poets’ Corner at Peace Park near Jiming Temple together with fellow poets. During the 1980s and 1990s, his poems were published in Poetry Periodical, Poetry Newspaper, Youth, Yuhua and other publications. His solo poetry collection Vacant Land was released by Anhui Literature and Art Publishing House in 1990. His works have been compiled into numerous poetry anthologies, such as Selected Exploratory Poems of the Third-Generation Poets, Self-Recommended Masterpieces of Contemporary Young Poets, Anthology of a Thousand Contemporary Poets, Selected Poems of Jiangsu Young Poets, Hidden Contemporary Love Poems, Fifty Years of Jiangsu Literature Poetry Volume and Centennial New Poetry of Jiangsu. Distinguished by the artistic tension in plain expression, Gao Xiang’s poetry features simple and unadorned wording embedded with profound and incisive modern reflections. He infuses sober narration with strong modernist temperament and builds a symbolic spiritual realm.
高翔，笔名野村、高瞻远，资深媒体人、诗人、影视编导，1985年毕业于南京大学中文系，先后在新华日报社、扬子晚报社、华人时刊杂志社、新华社江苏分社等新闻机构工作。高翔于1982年发起创办了南京大学“南园诗社”。1986年，作为核心策划人、发起人，联合诗歌圈同仁在南京市鸡鸣寺和平公园创建了名闻遐迩的南京“诗人角”。上世纪八九十年代曾在《诗刊》、《诗歌报》、《青春》、《雨花》等报刊上发表诗作，安徽文艺出版社1990年出版了他的个人诗歌专集《空地》，且有作品被选入《第三代诗人探索诗选》、《当代青年诗人自荐代表作选》、《当代千家诗选》、《江苏青年诗选》、《当代秘藏爱情诗选》、《江苏文学五十年•诗歌卷》、《江苏百年新诗选》等多部诗歌选集。高翔的诗歌以 “直白中的张力” 为显著的个人风格。诗歌语言平实质朴，却蕴含着深沉而锐利的现代性思考。他善于在冷静的抒写中，注入浓郁的现代主义气质，构建充满象征意味的精神空间。
Translated by Ma Yongbo
The Ancient Capital in June
Dense fine rain keeps falling
Nanjing city veils itself in dim mist
Horizons vanish from sight
The face of this six-dynasty ancient capital
Appears blurred and weathered
The drizzle lingers endlessly
Soaking even the soul damp and cold
Gloomy moods creep within
Like wriggling worms
The body wrapped in clothes
Rustles worn and frail in the wind
Past memories surge and sink amid rain
Blurring the line between dream and reality
Indeed, under such familiar rain
Dynasties rose and fell silently
Countless souls faded into dust
Yet in this similar drizzle
Pedestrians and I carry on
Our gloomy or bright lives
Birds still traverse the sky
Flying clumsily or gracefully
古都六月
细细密密的雨一直在下
南京城隐约在昏暗的雾霭之中
天地的边际完全被遮蔽
六朝古都的面孔
模糊而苍桑
细细密密的雨一直在下
仿佛将灵魂也淋得湿湿漉漉
内心 一种阴郁的情绪
蠕虫般爬行
衣衫包裹下的躯壳
在风中发出破败的响声
往事在细雨中浮浮沉沉
让人辩不清梦幻与现实
是啊 就是在这相似的雨中
多少朝代悄然更替
多少人物化为尘埃
而就在这相似的雨中
我和街市上的行人还在继续着
各自晦暗或明媚的生活
空中的鸟儿们还在继续着
它们笨拙或灵巧的飞翔
***
Flying Low over the Plain
At high noon, people flee indoors
Afraid of the blazing sun,
It is my hour to fly low over the plain.
I bear invisible feathers and wings unknown to men,
Flying is the essence of my life,
In a stance unlike swallows, vultures or swans,
I soar toward the flatland.
I skim past ripe wheat fields,
Brush the delicate faces of wild blossoms,
Cross tranquil rivers,
And breathe deep the breath of nature.
If I wish, I dart straight up into the sky,
Roam amid sea of clouds,
Glide along the atmosphere,
Then plunge back down to earth,
Flying close above the plain,
Hovering low over wheat stretches.
When sunlight fades, people step out of houses,
They perceive nothing of what has passed.
Peace settles over the land.
I told my wings, return home,
Settle into an old swivel chair,
And sip a glass of beer.
贴着平原飞翔
正午时分 人们因畏惧阳光
而躲进房舍
正是我贴着平原飞翔的时刻
我有人们看不见的羽毛和翅膀
飞翔是我生活中最重要的一部分
我用有别于紫燕 秃鹫和天鹅的
独有姿态
飞向平原
掠过成熟的麦地
掠过野生花朵的小脸
越过宁静的河流
畅饮大自然的气息
如果我喜欢
我会引身直冲向云霄
在云海中遨游
或沿着大气层滑行
然后再一头扎向大地
贴着平原飞翔
贴着麦地飞翔
当阳光转暗 人们从房舍中走出
他们不会觉察曾发生的一切
平原一片和平
我已收拢好翅膀
回到家中
正坐在破旧的转椅上
把一杯啤酒饮下
***
Hyacinth
As the weather grows warm
Hyacinths break through the soil
They bloom beneath the sun
Wind carries their fragrance
Far and wide
My young cousin lies buried underground
Beneath the hyacinth blooms
A lovely little girl
Wild and unrestrained in days gone by
She shall never return home
Hyacinths speak no word
Growing wild far from the village
Their roots twine around her fingers
Slowly drawing away her blood
Gradually draining all her dreams
Hyacinths thrive on the wasteland
Blossom in spring
Bathing in warm sunshine
Constantly revealing to me
The allure of death.
风信子
天气变暖的时候
风信子从泥土下钻出来
它们在阳光下开花
风把它们的香气
飘向远方
表妹就埋在泥土下
埋在风信子的脚下
一个漂亮的小姑娘
一个爱撒野的小姑娘
她再也不能回家
风信子不会说话
它们在远离村庄的荒野上生长
它们的根扎在表妹的十指间
把表妹的血慢慢吸干
把表妹的梦慢慢吸干
风信子在荒野上生长
在春天里开花
在暖暖的阳光下
不断向我展示
诱人的死亡
***
I Am Already on the Wheel
Still I cannot tell
Whether it is made of steel or rubber,
Perhaps it is both, perhaps neither,
Yet the moment I sought my true self,
I was already on the wheel.
The wheel spins endlessly,
Rolling over every passing day.
I can never halt its motion,
Nor bring myself to a standstill.
It whirls through streets and lanes,
Spins above people’s heads,
Turns atop the last news story of evening papers,
Revolves over women’s thighs,
Circles amid hollow promises,
Keeps spinning on every Saturday.
Upon this wheel, thought deserts me,
My mind is filled with wheels of all kinds,
Along with their creaking groans.
I see a hand of love crushed by the wheel three weeks ago,
Its five fingers piercing deep into my flesh,
Throwing me into relentless spasms.
I cannot resist or break free from the wheel,
I shall keep spinning on it,
Threading through crowds of men and women,
Until I turn into a dried corpse.
The world is built of countless wheels,
That will trample over my remains.
我已经在轮子上
我至今搞不清这个轮子是钢铁的
还是橡皮的
或许两者都是或许两者都不是
总之当我开始寻找自己时
我已经在轮子上
这个轮子不停旋转
碾过每一个日子
而我无法停住它
无法停住我自己
这个轮子在大街小巷飞转
在人们的头顶上飞转
在晚报最后一条新闻上飞转
在女人的大腿上飞转
在虚假的诺言里飞转
在星期六飞转
在这个轮子上我无法进行思想
我的脑子里只有各种各样的轮子
只有各种各样轮子发出的
吱吱嘎嘎的声响
只有三星期前被轮子轧断的
一只爱情的手
只有这只手的五个手指
这五个手指深深扎在我的肉体里
使我痉挛不已
这个轮子我无法抗拒无法挣脱
我将在它的上面旋转
穿过无数男人和女人组成的人群
直至旋转成一具干尸
这个世界由无数轮子组成
无数轮子将碾过我的尸体
________________________
Read: Rain Coming – Poetry from China
