POET
許立志
XU LIZHI
ENGLISH TRANSLATION
關顯揚
DEREK KWAN
許立志
XU LIZHI
ENGLISH TRANSLATION
關顯揚
DEREK KWAN
|
Rented Room
About ten square meters of space Cramped, damp, no sunlight ever Here I eat, sleep, shit, ponder Cough, have migraines, grow old, get sick but don’t die Under the dim light I’m befuddled, giggle Pace to and fro, sing softy, read, write poetry Whenever I open the window or door I’m like a corpse Slowly pushing open the coffin lid Working Life
Immersed in working life My brow grows a strand of loneliness While the machines polish day and night In this clinging and clanging 100,000 working boys 100,000 working girls Their most beautiful youthfulness Is entombed on the assembly line, by their own hands Master said This machine is high speed, that machine is normal This is for holding, that is for controlling But I see that It’s all ice cold The line manager says, you’re all here to work No one forced you This remark shackles me to The shameful pole of remembrance Adding up those Years I can’t get back 100,000 working boys 100,000 working girls Their most beautiful youthfulness Is entombed on the assembly line, by their own hands I Fell Asleep Standing Just Like That
My paper is slightly yellowed With a pen, I chisel in the deepest black Leaving it full of words of work: Workshop, assembly line, machine, work licence, overtime, salary… They have made me docile I will not shout, will not revolt Won’t denounce, won’t complain Just quietly endure this exhaustion Halt the beginning of time I only long for the grey pay slip on the tenth of each month Bestowing on me a belated comfort That’s why I must grind down the corners, grind down this language Refuse skipping work, refuse sick days, refuse personal days， Refuse being late, refuse leaving early Next to the assembly line I stand like iron, hands flying How many bright days, how many dark nights Did I fall a sleep standing just like that A Heart Interred by Life
Still want to keep going? Eyelids long ago became heavy as mountains His head tries to life itself in the dark night Tearful starlight pours down When the wind rises, his thin body always shudders Youthful times leave in vexation Leaving a snowscape, flakes upon flakes In dreams, he tastes flames that are icy cold And tattered skin is like a frayed cotton bed Spread out in the winds of time Innate convictions can no longer find their direction Along with his heart interred by life Deeper than the ocean Belated Remorse
Everyday after eating at the fast food restaurant I am accustomed to Patting my bottom and leaving Up until tonight When once again I went through that action I suddenly realized this scene was very similar To home, many years ago When we four, father and sons, after eating Patted our bottoms and left Leaving a tableful of mess For mama, all alone, To slowly clean up Mother
I just can’t think how You became so short So short you don’t reach my shoulder You said what you were carrying was a plentiful rice harvest But I clearly saw it was one family’s life You said what you were sweeping was the floor But I clearly saw it was days gone by How many years ago One day I saw you had become small So small you didn’t reach my shoulder I stood there, dumbfounded You looked like you discovered something, turned your head and said to me “Son, you’ve grown tall” Oh mother, your son has grown tall But life has bent your back This shortness If that arc were measured by years It would be exactly the amount I’ve grown The Last Graveyard
The murmur of the machines has also dozed off The sealed-off workshop stores diseased iron Salaries are hidden behind the curtains As if the young workers had hidden love deep in their hearts No time to open mouths, emotions remain dust They have iron-forged stomachs Full of dense sulfuric acid, nitric acid Industry collects their late-flowing tears Time passes, they all awake Output presses down age, pain works overtime Dizziness that’s not yet old conceals life Jigsaws compel skin to shed Conveniently plating it with a layer of it aluminum alloy Someone is still enduring, someone leaves sick I doze in their midst, to minister to youth’s Last graveyard A Single Screw Fell to the Ground
A single screw fell to the ground In this night of overtime Dropping vertically, with a soft sound Without drawing anyone’s attention Just like once before When on an identical night A person fell to the ground I Swallowed a Moon made of Iron
I swallowed a moon made of iron They call it a screw I swallowed this industrial wastewater, this order form for unemployment That youth that is even baser than machines died long ago I swallowed haste, swallowed displacement I can swallow no more Everything that I have swallowed Now gushes from my throat And coats the ground of my homeland with A shameful poem Migrant Workers
Years ago Sack on his back He ventured to this Bustling city In high spirits Years later Holding his own ashes He stands at this city’s Crossroads Staring blankly As I Lay Dying
I want to see the sea again, To witness how vast my life’s tears are I want to climb the tall peak again To try to call back my lost soul I still want to touch the sky, To brush up against that pale pale blue But I can’t do any of that, I am leaving this world Oh all of you who have heard of me You mustn’t be shocked at my leaving Don’t sigh, or grieve I was very good when I came, and in going, am also very good I Know the Day Will Come
I know the day will come When the people I know and the people I don’t know Will come into my room To clean up the remains I leave behind To clean the dark and blood-stained floor To tidy up the chair and desk To take out the moldy garbage To bring in the cloths from the balcony The poem I didn’t manage to complete Someone will complete it for me The book I didn’t manage to finish reading Someone will finish reading it for me The candle I didn’t manage to light, Someone would light it for me And then, the curtain long undrawn, Someone will draw it open, to let in the sun for a while The draw it back, and seal it with nail This whole process is orderly and solemn When the clean up is done The people would queue up to leave And quietly close the door on my behalf The Last Word
There’ll always be someone to pick up the screws This wasted life won’t go as far as to rust |
出租屋
十平米左右的空间 局促，潮湿，终年不见天日 我在这里吃饭，睡觉，拉屎，思考 咳嗽，偏头痛，生老，并不死 困黄的灯光下我一再发呆，傻笑 来回踱步，低声唱歌，阅读，写诗 每当我打开窗户或柴门 我都像一位死者 把棺材盖，缓缓打开 打工生活
沉湎于打工生活 我眉间长出一道孤苦 任机台日夜打磨 哐当声里 十万打工仔 十万打工妹 将自己最美好的青春 在流水线上，亲手埋葬 师傅说 这是高速机，那是泛用机 这是载具，那是治具 可我看到的 全是冰冷 线长说，都是出来打工的 没人逼你 我被这句话捆绑在 回忆的耻辱柱上 细数那些 再回不去的岁月 十万打工仔 十万打工妹 将自己最美好的青春 在流水线上，亲手埋葬 我就那样站着入睡
眼前的纸张微微发黄 我用钢笔在上面凿下深浅不一的黑 里面盛满打工的词汇 车间，流水线，机台，上岗证，加班，薪水…… 我被它们治的服服帖帖 我不回呐喊，不会反抗 不会控诉，不会埋怨 只默默地承受着疲惫 驻足时光之初 我只盼望每月十号那张灰色的薪资单 赐我以迟到的安慰 为此我必须磨去棱角，磨去语言 拒绝旷工，拒绝病假，拒绝事假 拒绝迟到，拒绝早退 流水线旁我站立如铁，双手如飞 多少白天，多少黑夜 我就这样，站着入睡 被生活埋葬的心
还要不要隐忍下去 眼皮早已沉重如山 他的头是这在黑夜抬起 沾满泪的星光就瓢泼而下 风一起，他单薄的身躯总要抖几抖 少年时光在懊恼中离去 剩下一场雪，纷纷，纷纷 梦里，他品尝到了火苗都是冰冷的 而磨损的皮肤像一床破棉絮 摊开在岁月的风里 固有的信念再找不到方向 连同他那颗被生活埋葬的 比海洋更深的心 迟到的愧疚
每天在快餐店吃完饭后 我都是习惯性地 拍拍屁股走人 直到今天晚上 当我重复着同样的动作时 突然发现这情景很像 这么多年来在家里 我们父子四个吃完饭后 拍拍屁股走人 留下一桌烂摊子 让母亲一个人 慢慢收拾 母亲
怎么也想不起 你是如何矮下去的 矮的够不着我的肩膀 你说你挑的是一担丰收的稻谷 可我看到的明明是一家人的生活 你说你扫的是地 可我看到的明明是逝去的日子 多少年过去了 有一天我看到你变小了 小的够不着我的肩膀 我站在原地，呆了 你好像发现了什么，转过头对我说 “儿啊，你长高了” 母亲啊，儿啊是长高了 可你被生活压弯了腰 矮了下去 那弧度若是用岁月丈量 正是我成长的高度 最后的墓地
机台的鸣叫也打着瞌睡 密封的车间贮藏疾病的铁 薪资隐藏在窗帘后面 仿似年轻打工者深埋于心底的爱情 没有时间开口，情感徒留灰尘 他们有着铁打的胃 盛满浓稠的硫酸，硝酸 工业向他们收缴来不及流出的泪 时辰走过，他们清醒全无 产量压低了年龄，疼痛在日夜加班 还未老去的头晕潜伏生命 皮肤被治具强迫褪去 顺手镀上一层铝合金 有人还在坚持着，有人含病离去 我在他们中间打盹，留守青春的 最后一块墓地 一颗螺丝掉在地上
一颗螺丝掉在地上 在这个加班的夜晚 垂直降落，轻轻一响 不会引起任何人的注意 就像在此之前 某个相同的夜晚 有个人掉在地上 我咽下一枚铁做的月亮
我咽下一枚铁做的月亮 他们把它叫做螺丝 我咽下这工业的废水，失业的订单 那些低于机台的青春早早夭亡 我咽下奔波，咽下流离失所 咽下人行天桥，咽下长满水锈的生活 我再咽不下了 所有我曾经咽下的 现在都从喉咙汹涌而出 在祖国的领土上铺成一首 耻辱的诗 进城务工者
多年前 他背上行囊 踏上这座 繁华的都市 意气风发 多年后 他手捧自己的骨灰 站在这城市的 十字路口 茫然四顾 我弥留之际
我想再看一眼大海， 目睹我半生的泪水有多汪洋 我想再爬一爬高高的山头， 试着把丢失的灵魂喊回来 我还想摸一摸天空， 碰一碰那抹轻轻的蓝 可是这些我都办不到了， 我就要离开这个世界了 所有听说过我的人们啊 不必为我的离开感到惊讶 更不必叹息，或者悲伤 我来时很好，去时，也很好 我知道会有那么一天
我知道会有那么一天 那些我认识不认识的人 会走进我的房间 收拾好我留下的残骸 清洗我淌满地板的发黑的血迹 把零乱的桌椅摆好 把发霉的垃圾倒掉 把阳台上的衣服收回来 那首没来得及写完的诗 会有人帮我写完 那本没来得及读完的书 会有人帮我读完 那只没来得及点亮的蜡烛 会有人帮我点亮 最后是那抹长年没拉开的窗帘 帮我拉开，让阳光进来逗留一会儿 再拉上，然后用钉子死死钉住 整个过程井然有序，庄严肃穆 收拾完这一切 人们排队离开 再帮我把门悄悄带上 绝句
总要有人捡起地上的螺丝 这荒唐的生活才不至于生锈 |
