铁具

郑小琼

灰色的
巨大的钢碇辗过她绿色的梦
砰然轰鸣，摇动
弯曲的铁片跟落在机台上的夕光
她肩胛骨耸起空荡荡的下午
她有过的受孕的绿色的梦
从袅袅升起的灰色铁块穿行而过
无数块在钢锭下变曲的铁
她目睹她是被挤压的铁中的一块
沿着打工的机台弯曲，成形
在螺母的旋转中
在声光的交织间
她被生活不断的车、磨、叉、铣……
她无法拒绝那些巨大的外力烘烤与锻打
最后，她目睹自己被滚烫的钢片烙上：
合格！

iron tools

grey
and large steel anchor ran over her green dream,
thundering, shaking the curvy ironsheets and the twilight on the machine.
her bladebone was thin and fragile, the whole afternoon was in vague
she had gotten a fertile and green dream,
which flew away through the grey iron blocks.
there were innumerable iron blocks flexed under the steel anchor,
she saw she was one block of them, squeezed and crushed,
bent and shaped on the machine, with screws driven in,
in the noises and shines, she was cut, scraped, milled, polished------,
unceasingly by life.she was unable to refuse to be baked and forged
by powerful external forces.
at last, she saw herself ironed by the boiling steel disc:
Qualified.

机器

郑小琼

那台饥饿的机器，在每天吃下铁，图纸
星辰，露珠，咸味的汗水，它反复的剔牙
吐出利润，钞票，酒巴……它看见断残的手指
欠薪，阴影的职业病，记忆如此苦涩
黑夜如此辽阔，有多少靠铁片生存的人
欠着贫穷的债务，站在这潮湿而清凉的铁上
凄苦地走动着，有多少爱在铁间平衡
尘世的心肠像铁一样坚硬，清洌而微苦的打工生活
她不知道，这些星光，黑暗，这些有着阴影的事物
要多久才能脱落，才能呈现出那颗敏感而柔弱的心
拖在背后的巨大的机台，沉郁而隐秘的轰鸣
像爱，像恨，像疼，像隐秘的月光在钢铁间
长出生命的线索，它嘶嘶着，衰老着
它老化的血管浸泡着岁月的锈
命运像那双弱小而柔软的手  在坚硬机台上
安静的生活  它蓝色的火焰照耀你疲惫的脸庞

the machine

that hungry machine, eating up irons, chartpapers,
stars, dewdrops and salty sweat, picking the teeth repeatedly,
spitting out profits, bills, alcohol bars and so on.
it witnessed broken figers, overdue wages
and the shade of the occupation diseases,
so bitter the memory, so vast the night,
how many people living on the ironsheets, poor in debt,
standing on the moist and cold irons, walking with sorrow.
how much love could balance the weight of the irons?
the heart of this mortal world was as stiff as irons,
what boring working life it was!
these starlights, darkness and all things in shadow,
she did not know how long they would peel off
and present the sensitive and tender heart.
the huge machine was behind her, making gloomy noises,
which were like Love, Hate, Pains
and secret moonlights sheded on irons which bloomed living clues,
it was hissing, getting senile gradually,
its old arteries were blocked by rust of the past years.
the destiny like a pair of weak and soft hand, staying on the hard machine.
the blue flame of quiet life illuminated your exhausted face.