It seems only slanting light can reveal its true plumage,
and complete the composition of this afternoon…
Zhang Weidong is a Chinese poet from Chengdu
Zhang Weidong was born in late 1959 and currently resides in Chengdu. He began writing poetry in the late 1980s. He has published poetry collections including Difficult Times in Happy Days, The Traits of Things, Coming from Where I Came, A “Truant Student’s” Supplementary Homework, The Mirror of Time, The Substantiality of Nothingness, and The Subtle and the Gap.
张卫东，生于1959年底，现居成都。80年代末开始写诗。自印有诗集《幸福日子的艰难时事》《物色》《从来处来》《一个“逃课生”补交的作业》《时间的镜子》《乌有的实在》《幽微与间隙》。
(Translated by Ma Yongbo)
The Gray Bird
The Gray BirdIt seems only slanting light can reveal its true plumage,
and complete the composition of this afternoon. There it stands,
Perched on the stone railing of the right bank, never prying into
the whispers of a few stray winds. He says leisure isn’t ours alone,
yet it must differ from that of domestic fowl. Compared to other
unusual birds we’ve seen, its expression isn’t deliberately fixed
not even for its small size. Just as we
gaze at it intently, ignoring the glances of others.
At this moment, it turns slightly, flicking its flat
tail feathers. If we keep talking, should the light
also shift its angle, allowing us to see more clearly
the blue-tinged down in its gray feathers? How like the shadow
that glided through some dream in our youth, dancing
on the swaying curtain, upon the part that has not yet faded white.
***
灰鸟
仿佛只有斜来的光线才能还原它的毛色，
以及午后这幅完整的构图。它，
立在右岸石栏上，并不揣度几缕风的
谈论。他说闲适不止属于我们，
但必须与家禽有所区别。和见过的另类
相比，它的神情，并不因为
体型过小而被刻意固化。就像我们
不住端详，撇开了旁人目光。
此刻，它微微转过身来，摇着扁平的
尾翼。如果，继续谈下去，光
是否也该换个角度，让我们进一步看清
它灰中泛蓝的绒羽，多像年少时
划过某个梦中的影子，舞蹈在
滑动的窗帘布上，那块尚未洗白的部分。
***
The Beach
The BeachStop always fixating on women, men also love to come to the beach
at dusk or dawn. Those white sails in the distance,
when seen up close, always have a few suspicious blood-like reddish stains.
Yes, earlier, they were all indulging themselves, or cheering,
while the sunscreen, shrinking its “arms” under the harsh sun,
what did the sea stir up? Let’s not talk about the original color of the sand.
The glowing clouds in the western sky have once again overlapped
with the dry red wine in the glass, and the charm of the wine
brightens up. If we talk now about the salt in the sea water, or
its bitterness, the worshippers will firmly believe in your truth—
let the hermit crabs return from the bottom of the glass to their respective
burrows. If at this moment, there is still some kind of
sound on the beach, rest assured, it is the triumphant large ship,
sending over excited smiles through the numbness of its watch.
***
沙滩
不要总拿女人说事，男人也喜欢黄昏
或清晨来到沙滩。远处那些白帆，
近看总有几点绣色可疑的血。
是啊，此前，他们都在纵情，或欢呼，
当防晒霜因强光而缩回手臂时，
大海都掀起了什么？不说沙的本色。
西天的火烧云已再次重叠了
杯中的干红，葡萄酒的颜值就亮了
起来。这时再说海水的盐，或
苦涩，祈祷者就会坚信你的真理——
让寄居蟹从杯底回到它们各自
的穴中。假如这时，沙滩上还有某种
响动，放心，那是预备凯旋的
大船因眺望的麻木送来了亢奋的笑容。
***
Herons
HeronsI know I must keep a distance from you, here in the wetland,
this is another proposition. Sometimes, they gather
in groups of three or five; more often, though, they shun one another.
When it wades through the shallow water, the frogs
fall silent at once. That day, as I approached the water’s edge,
it spread its wings just in time, stretching its vertical legs
into a horizontal line with the earth. Toward their own kind,
their gestures tend to converge, much like us,
who gain a shared sense of security from our common traits.
At this moment, a heron, brown or blue-gray, flies over,
offsetting their prevalent whiteness. It also shifts
the possible radius of the gun’s muzzle. When this targeted heron
reveals a tuft of its feathers or the protruding part of its beak,
more eyes turn toward it; the world draws near,
and beyond the wetland, everything falls quiet.
***
鹭鸶
我知道，必须与你拉开距离，在湿地，
这是另一个命题。有时，它们
三、五成群，更多，却是彼此拒绝。
当它涉水浅行，蛙就停止了
鼓噪。那天，我来到水边，它
正好展翅，让垂直的双腿与大地拉伸
为水平。对于同类，它们举止
趋同，就像我们，因共同的属性而
获得了一致的安全感。此刻，
一只褐色，或蓝灰的鹭鸶飞了过来，
抵消了它们普遍的白。也
转移了枪口可能的半径。当目标的它
露出了羽毛或嘴角突出的部分，
更多眼球就转了过来，世界，
就靠了过来，湿地以外，就静了下来。
__________________
Read: The Great River – Poetry from China
