nunia
[个人文集]
加入时间: 2005/11/04
文章: 2184
经验值: 5079
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作者：nunia 在 寒山小径 发贴, 来自 http://www.hjclub.org
April, White Blossoms
Across the ocean an old city enters grim rain season
in rememberance of the dead.
My friend's wife wears red rain boots
in a crazed crowd, trying to buy fresh water cress.
I used to examine my own shadow at length, and think
of ocean.
If I did not expect eternal love of some ocean,
I would have stayed in the spring of Beijing.
I flew a kite over the Square,
my purple veil blowing in sandy wind.
He loved me once. His wife might have dreamed of me.
In April the ancient travelers used to pine with broken hearts.
They would seek a shepherd boy
who would point out a small wine village
in profusion of white blossoms.
My friend was out in the streets. His wife was pregnant. I prayed.
I could have been in the crowd, blood stirred by vocal thunders.
I could have lost consciousness in abruptness of a pang
after reflecting in a flash: it might be a rubber bullet.
On the wreath for the dead, the blossoms are made of
white paper.
- from 'The Book of Jade' Yun Wang
Winner of the 15th Annual Nicholas Roerich Poetry Prize
作者：nunia 在 寒山小径 发贴, 来自 http://www.hjclub.org |
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重读茅境的诗歌《六月》
