本帖最后由 雨荷风 于 2015-10-7 20:32 编辑
◎沽河 滩 文/ 傅瑞文
是什么让我想起这棵歪脖柳
枯败、苍老、蜷着身子
孤零零斜倚在故乡的门口
是什么让我看到了他们
这些缓缓游弋的苍头鸭
这些盘旋着久久不忍离去的绿蜻蜓
这些弓着身子用额头与大河交谈的老女人
她们缓缓直起的身子
戳痛了天空的脸
是什么,让我突然沉默不语
我不是一个对一切保持淡漠的人
因此,我宁愿把那个弓腰挑水踽踽而行的老人
看成是一枚锈迹斑斑的废铁钉
他越来越近地插入时光的心脏
那么从容,淡定,并且无所畏惧
◎On the riverside of Gu River by Fu Ruiwen tr. Lush Greenness
What makes me think of that wry-necked willow?
Withered and hoary, the tree is crouching its senile body with
A solitary leaning posture at the door of my native land.
What reminds me of them?
Those cyan-headed ducks moving about on the river,
Those green dragonflies circling slowly nearby for a long time, and
Those hunchbacked old women talking to the river with their foreheads.
The women straighten themselves up slowly so far as to
Prick the firmamental face.
What causes me to stay reticent?
I'm not a kind of person apathetic about everything.
Hence I'd rather regard the old man carrying water with his bended body
As an obsolete rusty nail.
He inserts his being closer and closer to the cardiac chamber of time—
So calm, reserved, explicit, and fearless as well.
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