黄 昏
风从小树林里探出头来
河水淘洗着几声蛙鸣
炊烟像一根裤带面
几颗老牙
咬不断越扯越长的乡情
夕阳坐在山顶
等一个人
Dusk
Breeze is poking its head out of the little woods
River is rinsing a few frog croaks
Chimney smoke is homesickness, pulled longer and longer
Like a piece of belt-noodle
That a few rotten teeth cannot bite into halves
The setting sun, sitting atop a mountain
Is waiting for someone
兵马俑
他们披甲戴盔
泥捏的身子
像一件件精美的摆设
走不出低矮的战壕
压根就不知道
宋元明清
满腔热血死守着
一段往事
Terra-Cotta Warriors
In full armors and helmets
Their bodies of terra
Are like pieces of exquisite adornments
Stuck in the shallow trenches
Knowing nothing about the coming dynasties
But guarding a bygone glorious story
With passion, and blood
酸 曲
每个词都在醋里
浸了多年
就像母亲泡的一坛酸菜
用水洗了又洗
那味撂倒了一口老牙
我每次听曲手里都要攥着
一把盐
Sour Song
Each and every word of its lyrics
Has been soaked in vinegar for years
Like a pot of pickled cabbage made by my mother
Though rinsed in water over and again
The taste knocked down my loose teeth
Every time I listen to the song
I have to hold tight
A handful of salt
星期天
翻开一本影集
往事扑腾着展开翅膀
像一群受惊的蝴蝶
满屋子乱飞
木地板上落了一层
咯咯咯的笑声
Sunday
When a photo album is opened
Things past, like startled butterflies
Flapping and fluttering their wings
Fly wildly in the house
On the wooden floor settles
A layer of giggles
中元节
父亲从裤带上解下
一把钥匙
拧开生锈的铁锁
在老屋里转了几圈
扭身便走
我追过村旁的果园
追过一片玉米地
追得我
跟父亲一样苍老
Ghost Festival
From his waist belt my father untied
A key
And opened the rusty lock
He walked several rounds in the old house
And left right away
I ran after him, passing an orchard by the village
And a large cornfield
Until I turned
As old as my father
白 露
白云给大雁腾出一条捷径
阳光扶不住一池残荷
风卷起泛潮的凉席
梦被夜越裹越紧
一滴泪加重了
黎明的忧伤
White Dew
The white clouds make a shortcut for the geese
The sunshine cannot prop up a pool of withered lotuses
The wind rolls up the damp sleeping mat for summer
Dreams are wrapped tighter and tighter by the night
A single drop of tear deepens
The sorrow of dawn