本帖最后由 悟道空空 于 2020-11-12 11:24 编辑
王萌诗二首 英译 著名翻译家、诗人，上海世博会首席翻译官秋子树翻译 ◆山中一日
在山中，我学会登高，伏身，低头 向花草和树木行礼，向飞鸟问好 也看一个人，怎样把草木背在肩上 我知道开合的峰峦不高，流水不长 却足以虚构一道彩虹，让我跌落人间
这是我今生遇到的石头，绕不出的水 它们从高处结伴而行，却互不相认 一出生，就比我命硬，多皱 它为什么过得那样苦，险峻，奇绝 生命中到处都是滑坡，或埋伏
隐居于冷幽处，并没有让山变宽阔 它蹲守着家门，只留下小径 通向溪水 松鼠和蝴蝶轻盈地跳过那些枝杈 却让我爬行的异常艰难
山上一直吸引着我，尤其是峡谷突现 潭水凿透石头，松柏倒悬 阳光和月光交替着穿过山峰 我知道这是山中的一天，但身影后 折射的，常常是另一种爬行
做一个山人，或者草，斧头和树木 时间会不会停下，遇见另一个我？ 一个把一日活成一生的神仙 丢弃坏掉的斧柄，破碎的石子
迎面山风尖利而芳香，渐渐吹过 早已换洗的人间
◆万物有声
万物皆有灵性，听得出日光里的悲声 奔波，飞翔或者暂停 不是因为它倦了，才能歌唱或说出 它有风一样的勇气 在人间接受了轮回
倾听之中，暴雨和酷热没有区别 和落花一样，这声音更重，砸向万物 但我未及躲闪 夏天来得多么及时，和歌唱一起 颠覆了人情，风月，小人物
我看到杂草被火烧掉，却萌出了新芽 万物有声，只是很少被人听到 晴空之下，歌唱之后，想要看到的纯净 和黄沙一样徐缓 和时光一样消失于偶然
但非虚构 我记得一个人谱写着颂词，嗓音沙哑 他想放空身体的河流，让梦前行 更多的人借助歌唱活下来 借助万物之声
像雷霆，一出声，就会结束它的悲歌 像箴言，再生，也不能逃脱 草灰的命运 被人间改变的万物，唯一逃离人间的 是声音
万物之声。我相信沉默不过是 灵魂在休息，身体在生长 天空垂向大地，那是 明亮之人倾听存在之物 和可能到来之物
闪电归于合唱，而更多的人 正在旅途
(选自 组诗《故人庄》) （简介：王萌，男，1972.5月生。河北沧州中捷农场人，中国诗歌学会、河北省作家协会会员，中捷诗词协会副会长。作品500余篇散见于《诗选刊》《诗歌月刊》《诗刊》《绿风》《知音》等报刊。诗论四篇《明天将会出现什么样的词》、《现实主义诗歌在当代》等约两万字发表于《诗歌报月刊》。曾参加河北省第三届青年诗会，入选2019、2020年度《诗选刊》河北诗人专号，获诗神杯校园诗特别奖、锦江杯一等奖，新世纪杯一等奖，《中国诗人》2018年度九子岩诗歌奖、《白洋淀》建国七十周年征文一等奖，《方向》诗刊2019全国诗赛一等奖。分别受著名诗人李轻松、赵之逵推荐入选《诗刊》2019、2020年度E 首诗栏目。王蒙文学院环渤海文化签约诗人，中国诗歌在线新汉诗十九首栏目版主。曾接受《沧州日报》、《大众阅读报》专版报道。著有诗集《风起渤海湾》。）
Two Poems Written by Meng Wang Trans. by: Ben Duan
◆A Day in the Mountain
In the mountain, I’ve learned climbing, stooping, yielding Saluting to flowers and trees, greeting to flying birds Also seeing a man how to carry logs on his shoulder I know though the opening and closing hills are not high， and running streams are not long Yet they can invent a rainbow, which brings me down to the mortal world
This is the rock I’ve ever met in my life, the zigzag water They travelled together from a height, not knowing each other Since its birth, it has a harder life than mine, so many wrinkles Why does it lead such a bitter life? Precipitous, bizarre Full of landslides, or ambushes
Retreating to cold remoteness does not make the mountain wider It keeps watching the house gate, freeing only a pathway To the stream Squirrels and butterflies lightly jump over those branches Which have made my crawling extremely difficult
The mountain has always attracted me, especially the emergence of the gorge The pond water chisels through rocks, pines and cypresses overhang The sunshine and the moonlight alternately run through peaks I know this is a day in the mountain, yet behind my shadow Usually another kind of crawling is reflected
Being a hermit, or grass, an axe and trees Does time stop, seeing another myself? An immortal lives a day as a life Discarding the rotten haft, crushed stones
A mountain breeze blowing toward me is sharp-pointed and fragrant, gradually blowing over The already washed world
◆All Things are Phonic
Everything has intelligence, capable of hearing sadness from the sunshine Rush, flying or pause Not because of its tiredness it can sing or speak out It has wind’s courage Being reincarnated in the mortal world
During listening, there is no difference between Downpours and severe heat Like falling flowers, this sound is heavier, smashing all things From which I failed to escape The summer comes without delay, together with the singing Overturning human feeling, romance, nobodies
I see weeds being burned, yet they now sprout new buds All things are phonic, only few are being heard Under a clear sky, after singing, the purity you want to see Like the slow moving yellow sand Together with time disappearing by accident
Yet it’s not imaginary I remember one man was writing eulogy, with a coarse voice He wanted to let go rivers in his body, let dreams advance More people survived thanks to the singing Thanks to the sound of all things
Like thunders, it ends its sad melody once it utters Like proverbs, reborn, still cannot escape from Destiny of straw ashes All things change by the world, only the sound can escape From the world
The sound of all things. I believe silence is just The rest of souls, bodies are growing The sky is bending down to the earth, which is The bright man listening to the existed things And things in the possibility of advent
Lightning returns to chorus, and more people Are on the journey
(Selected from the suite poem Old Friend Village )
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