旅程

一

雁叫的时候我醒着　雁在
万里之外叫　黑暗在一夜的漩涡中
如此清越

河弯过去　口渴的人
臆想一杯水墨绿色的直径
陷进玻璃的翅尖冷冷扇着冷冷发脆

沙漏　为沿街每一幢房子下锚
雨后的轮胎撕开长长的绷带

我听见我身体里那些船
在碰撞　龙骨们挤进干裂的一根
雁叫时　粘在耳膜上的城市
悬在别处飞　一种轻如残骸的地理学

二

　　　　　　水是没有意义的
河弯过去　风摩擦干了的船底
老鼠们喜欢攀登这付铁架子
锈腥味儿　象漂亮的鱼刺
月光漆着一个弧度　死者上妆的脸
安静得象只木头子宫丢在岸边
离水声一点远　离沙石小路一点远
离星座间摆脱了方向的舵一点远
收拢的桨象累了的疑问
死死缠在轴上

　　　　　　水是没有意义的
但水的瓷　烧绘出港口的图案
时间带来回忆的主题
一条被悬空架起的船能回忆些什么
除了一个听觉　水一样细密缝合着
除了一只铃　摇响就在删去
雕花的耳朵　候鸟逡巡
　　　　　　而地球错开一步
光年交叉中圆圆的巢
再也找不到　谁驶过哪条河
水　烧结成这块摔不碎的瓷
早碎了　隔开一夜已隔开许多夜
隔着酷爱作曲的历史

　　　　　　水是没有意义的 因而
升起潜望镜的恐怖
醒在一艘弃船里　醒着看
天上亿万条轨道高擎一朵朵荷花
都关紧粉红色　喃喃而说时
被一个无力怀旧的语法抓着
铁的器官屈服于内部的空
还能撑多久　当一条鱼精选氧气里的毒
还试图辨认什么　这一眨不眨的眼前
黎明无须过渡　黎明已徊游在别处
刺骨的美学　离孤独
一点儿远

雁叫的国度是一个坐标
在水下　哪个死者能继续昨晚中断的旅程

三

圆心　隐身张望的文本
把我变成又一页初稿

圆　漂在鬼魂笔迹里的床
被水暴露也被水取消

雁真叫过吗　或一夜深邃到非时间
雁弯弯割断的脖子
越怕听越易于被唤出

听觉比喻地貌　黑暗
比喻一种扣留我的物质
城市的流体溅出一枝桃花
否决地平线的　还是震耳欲聋的心跳声

大脑比喻星空　床沿
比喻一条崩紧的船舷
尖叫囚入一滴雨　梦的万有引力
从它们的万里之外彼此思念
都在圆上　都被还没写出的驱逐着

弯回此地

The Journey

Co-translator: Pascale Petit

1.

I wake when the wild goose cries    a wild goose crying
thousands of miles away    piercing the darkness
of night's whirlpool

the river turns    a parched man
thinks of a glass's ink-green rim
wingtips sunk in crystal flap coldly    a brittle chill

the hourglass    anchors every house to the street
after rain tyres slash long bandages from the road

I listen to the boats in my body
jostling against each other    the keels fused into one
when the wild goose cries    the city stuck to your eardrum
flies and hangs elsewhere    a geography light as a wreck

2.

                              water has no meaning
the river turns    the wind rasps against dry hulls
rats love climbing the davit struts
the sharp tang of rust    an exquisite fish-bone
moonlight paints a full arc    making-up a corpse's face
quiet as a wooden womb thrown on the bank
a little way from the water's lapping    a little way from the gravel
a little way from the rudder which has escaped all bearings among the stars
the oars drawn in like tired questions
bound in a stranglehold around the axle

                              water has no meaning
but on the porcelain of the water's surface    the marina's glaze is fire-painted
time brings the theme of memory
what can a boat cradled by air remember
except to hear    the dense embroidery of water
except to be a bell    ringing to delete
to delete the engraved ear    the ceaseless migrations
                              but earth falters
the criss-crossed light-years around the nest
no longer know    who sails on what river
water    sinters into a crust of shatterproof porcelain
long broken    fissioning one and every night
fissioning history which so loves to compose

                              water has no meaning    therefore
a terror of raising the periscope
is wakened in the abandoned boat    is wakened and peeps
at the sky where billions of orbits clutch lotuses
all close their coral colours    when they whisper
they are clutched by a grammar which has no past    no nostalgia
the iron organs submit to their internal vacuum
how long can they survive    when fish purposefully seek the poison in oxygen
what more can they possibly find    in front of an unblinking eye
dawn doesn't have to arrive    dawn has already swum elsewhere
an aesthetics cut to the quick    a little way from
desolation

where the wild geese cry is the underwater
co-ordinate    where a corpse can continue the journey that ended last night

3.

the circle's centre    a text secretly watching me
draft another page
the circle    a bed floating in a ghost's script
exposed by water and cancelled by water

did the wild geese really cry    or is the night so deep it's become timeless
the wild geese's arched and chopped necks
the more afraid I am to listen the easier it's summoned

hearing metaphorizes landscape    darkness
metaphorizes matter that confines me
the city's hydromechanics splash out a branch of peach-blossom
the hammering heartbeat    still withholds the horizon

a brain metaphorizes the starry sky    the bed-edge
metaphorizes the boat's side
a scream locked in a raindrop    the pull of dreams
longing for each other over thousands of miles
all in the circle    driven out by what isn't yet written

circle back to here