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(2008-05-29 02:12:46)



分类: 译作

Anchoring at the bridge of maples(part one)



At this moment,the slight bow-shaped moon fell into the valley opposite.Meanwhile,a howling crow glided the sky,splashing the sense of chill all around the night.And the frost,thin and white,covered every coner of the sides of the boat,at the end of which stands a old poem with a long and white beard dyed white totally by the autumn sky.




At the shore,a cluster of maple leaves,red as fire,swayed in the breeze of the night,like a dancing fire.How deep the autumn was.The poet reclined on the mast,when some slight bygones,like a cup of thick tea in the hand,springed up to the memories,making the heart unrest for a long while.




Whereras, the chill mountain temple in the views of the night,stayed outside the fourish town of SuZhou in silence.How many springs and autumns had it walked off,how many grieves and hatreds had it seen?And the old phoenix tree,as old as the temple,was the only thing which knew its countless stories.




All of a sudden,a ripple of tinkling ringings of a bell,penetrated through the stillness,gliding a little bird flying over the boat of a mat.Would it find its way home in the dark?At this very momemet,another boat for ferrying guest came in sight of the poet,anchoring at the one side of the bridge of maple.




It was kind of blurry that,some person got up the boat and some off ,as well as some hands,and obviously some tears welling up in someone's eyes.

The revival of spring(part two)



Sunshine penetrated the window lattices,then fell on the body of the poet,a grid after a grid,beautiful.Rubing the sleepy eyes,that's feeling of warm ,which spreaded into every corner of the body.It was as if the little mountain country was occupied overnight.



who was singing outside the window so bright and happy?The song jumped around the woods,finally went flying back along the road ,which a bunch of sunshine took previously, back into the sanctum.The poet stretched out his arms,listening in silence.These fresh and heart-warming sounds,restored hopes and confidences in  people,as well as even in those who had lost heart.



It' was vaguely remembered that the wind mixed with drizzle tapped on the eaves last night.This bery of children who likes musci always remind us the songs our mamas humed in the light of the oil burning light.



Those flowers,yet hiding in buds yesterday,had finally come out of their veils of convention,flush,standing in the yard nevously,giving their kisses to wind and rain passing by.And who could hear it,the sound of falling of the flowers,



In the early morning,a poet picked up a flower.Was it the gaunt face of the beloved far away?


 Missing in the quiet night(part three)



The moon was as full as a plate.A vagrant poured a cup of plank wine,falling into deep missing.Bunchs of lights creeped in a sanctum in hostorical town of ChangAn.At the bed with flowers carved on it,the slim poet,could not find a way home.   



Can not tell whether the chilly cold glowing in front of the window was the falling ice frost in the deep night of autumn,or it was just a letter paper with nothing on it,or it was a head of silver white hairs of an old mama.In a scene of blur,which was picked was lengthes of missing of the hometown.




At this moment,there's only that full moon ,with the look of kindness,shining a lonely figure.Is there an elder,like me,standing in the moonlight on the ridge of the fields of hometown,lonely,calling out someone's baby name.




O,mama,pick the crystal moon up home.That's the missing sent for you from your travelling child,who stands at the bank of Wei river in the night of mid-autumn day.




The sounds of falling snows of rivers are like a flower,blooming among thousands of hills.Birds withdraw their thin wings,hurry back to their warm nest,where they will spend a long season of snow in happiness .




Snowflakes glip through the heavy atmosphere,flying in the cold sky.One,two,three...a cluster of languages of aroma were sprinkled on earth finally.All the roads refused to come out again after they sending the last child back home.They hide beneath a blade of pure thoughts,dreaming a beautiful dream of spring.




There's only one boat,like an island,left still,anchoring in water silently.Some snowflakes glid by it,finally landing in the river,dissolved,followed by another flakes.




An old fisherman sits at the front of the boat still.What is he hooking for?Is it a lost years,or the hope of the next year?




The river is silent,the snow is silent.


    So was the humanbeing.



Walking among mountains(part four)



A leaf landed quietly in sight.Like a wounded butterfly,the leaft's posture of dancing died hopless in the wind of autumn.On the rugged mountain road,every stone glistened chilly light of the deep autumn,like a face of an elder,who had suffered  much in his life.




White clouds rised slowly from the lap.And several blurry cottages could be seen in veil in the distance.The chanticleer crowed,smashing all the serenity of the village.




I Walked around over a mountain to discover in suprise that, clusters of fire red maples,like fires,burned quietly.These colors of life gave ripples of surprises to those hearts that had been down.I stopped the hitchy treads,learned on a blue stone,staring.Some ever choked thoughs was awaked by some further hopes.




O autumn,was there anything that could move people more than a blade of maple leaf?Lift the burning torch in the cold wind,let the body enjoy the frost.Then i would become  flowers of spring to decorate every mountain and plain,to light up the sky,to light up the seasons,to light up every tired soul.

(Quoted by LiYi,from the magazine of <>1998 by ZengDongwen)



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