杨吉军[中国] 诗八首【中英对照，石永浩 译】

杨吉军[中国]

结霜的树（组诗）

我们先是挑些能晃动的小树

让霜花落在头顶，落在睫毛上

这种快乐是人类的快乐

也许树们忍着哭

当霜从伸得最长的枝条开始

不可能没有一枝想到跑

那时我们还围着火炉，或者在大雪的梦中

它们就有的咬破了嘴唇

它们要忍的，不是冷

是得不到温暖

如果有一棵很独特

那是它实在没能忍住

而我们不可能摇晃每一棵树

当我们转身走出树林

那些没被晃过的树，它们自己颤抖

那些霜，自己崩落

这个早晨，整个林子都是噼里啪啦

摔碎在地上的声音。那纷纷腾起的雾

Yang Jijun [China]

The Frosty Trees (group poems)

At first we chose some little trees that could be shaken

To let frost flakes alight on our heads and eyelashes

That was the human joy

Perhaps the trees were holding back their tears

When frost started on the branch stretching the longest

There could not be a branch that did not want to escape

We sit around the stove then, maybe in the dream of the snow

Some of them bit their lips hard

What they had to endure was not the cold

But the lack of warmth

If one tree that appeared unique

It must be because it failed to endure

We could not shake every tree there

Before we turned around and stepped out of the woods

The trees not shaken shivered by themselves

Thus the frost burst and fell

That morning, the whole woods were crackling

The sound of breaking on the ground. Mist rose up

梆子

又传来梆子声了

总得有什么来拎一拎沉底的灵魂

尤其是从大雾中传来

在大雾中它暗自加力

你应该记得那一个个冬天

幸福把手冻得通红

穷人的日子有什么可规划的呢

幸福就是临时起意

那梆子声一停顿

就说明出现了第一个端着豆子的人

再穷的人也会有几捧豆子

再粗糙的生活也可以细腻

而今天早晨它一直在敲

是什么使它久久没有得到确认

The Wooden Clapper

The sounds of wooden clapper again

Something has to lift the sinking soul

Especially from the fog, the sounds

Boast delightful clarity

In the fog, it is secretly intensifying

Clear but saddening

You should remember those winters

Happiness was freezing our hands red

What plans could poor people make for their days

Happiness came by accident

When the sounds of the wooden clapper paused

It meant the first person with beans appeared

Even the poorest one could afford a few handfuls of beans

With things for bartering, even the roughest life turned delicate

But this morning, the sound had been going on

What kept it from being acknowledged for so long

雨中的马

昏暗的灯光像一个昏暗的梦

一匹马淋着细密的雨

不知道已经淋了多长时间

它扬了两下脖子

然后就把头埋下去

打着响鼻像叹气

也许它不认为自己应该躲避

耳朵始终耷拉着

而你打量它的时候

它四腿叉开

它那样站定

然后剧烈地抖动身子

顷刻就抖落了所有的雨水

它从来不责怪你

它湖水一样的眼神

又一次向你发出邀请

A Horse in the Rain

The dim lamp light is like a dim dream

A horse is drenched in the fine rain

No one knows how long it has been in the rain

It cranes its neck twice

And then it buries its head

Snorting, as if sighing

Maybe it does not think it should shelter

Its ears drooping

When you are sizing it up

It spreads its legs wide

Thus it stands still like that

And then it shakes itself violently

Instantly it shakes off all the rain

It never blames you

Its eye, limpid like the lake water

Invites you once more

稻草人

田野就空了

随着最后一辆马车的离开

掉落的高粱叶子被风刮着，游魂一般

你一个人发呆

你本草木

传达人间的讯息，向着自然界

该做点什么呢？冬天要来

冰雪要来

而那只不一样的麻雀还回不回来

它在你的身上种下一粒种子

明年怎么办呢

你有了一颗金子般的心

The Scarecrow

The field becomes empty

As the last cart leaves

Blown by winds, sorghum leaves flutter like wandering souls

You are left alone at a loss

You are from the plants

Conveying messages of the world to Nature

What should be done? Winter is coming

Snow and ice are coming

And that unique sparrow, will it come back

It planted a seed in you

What about next year?

You’ve got a heart of gold

火堆

不仅仅是驱赶可能的野兽

不仅仅是御寒

你一个人在旷野。也许是虚弱的时刻

那轮番袭来的恓惶

于是你钻木取火，手心搓出血

于是你吹大火苗，倾尽一生的专注

你四处寻找柴禾，所有的角落得到肃清

除了一个地方你刻意回避

世界应该给你奖赏。你烧纸给自己的荒凉

今晚你是这一带的帝王

火越烧越旺。结果你睡着了

梦见漫天的大雪扑向炉膛

而你不知道那堆火自己燃烧得有多精彩

仿佛围着一群跳舞的印第安人

Bonfire

Not just to ward off possible wild animals

Not just to keep warm

You are alone in the wilderness, maybe at a weak moment

Panic assailing you in waves

So you drill wood for fire until your palms bleed

You blow the flames with the concentration of your entire life

You search for firewood, clearing every corner

Except for one place you deliberately avoid

The world should reward you. You burn paper to your desolation

Tonight, you are the monarch of this area

The flame burns brighter and brighter, but you fall asleep

Dreaming of snow pelting the stove

You fail to see how the fire burns spectacularly

As if burning around a group of dancing American Indians

黄河岸边

不要在落日下梳头

不要在黄河水里照镜子

你把自己投进去

它不接住。接住也不给你回声

就像先推开门的另一个人

被枪口抵住前胸

你本来是想看个究竟

不小心就弄丢了魂

虽然流水不能带走一切。流水带不走的

泥沙挟裹

你下意识地摸摸口袋

钥匙还在

你要么转动锁芯

确认一扇不用敲的门

要么找一个光亮的水面

赶紧把影子找回

By the Yellow River

Don’t comb your hair in the setting sun

Or take the Yellow River as a mirror

If you throw yourself in

It won’t catch you. Even if it does, it makes no sound

Just like someone who pushes open the door first

Only to be met with the barrel of a gun against their chest

You just want to take a look

But accidentally lose your soul

What the flow cannot take away will be

At the disposal of the mud and sand

You instinctively touch your pocket

Your keys are still there

You either turn the key

To confirm a door that needs no knocking

Or find a patch of lucid water

To quickly retrieve your shadow

两只鹤

看到它们是在一个有雾的早晨

它们并不耀眼

而它们在风吹雨淋中保持了令人惊诧的干净

那身材的标志性

它们款款移步，俨然两位大师

物理的麦田演变着化学的物质

它们举止那么一致，而不划一

如同经卷的上部和下部

它们也允许你更接近一些

但不能突破最大限度

它们会同时起飞，从来都是从从容容

不用交换眼神

不知道它们会落在哪里，一定不是草丛

不是树林。它们的大个子适合空地

你可能一连几天找不见它们

但能感觉到它们就在附近

这个冬天的夜晚会很安稳

看护这个村子是它们的责任

Two Cranes

They are seen on a misty morning

They are not dazzling

But they remain incredibly clean in winds and rains

Their slim figures are their signature

They pace leisurely, just like two masters

In the physical fields are evolving chemical substances

Their movements are in unison, but not identical

Just like the upper and lower parts of a scripture

They also allow you to get closer

But not too close

They will take off simultaneously, with grace

No need to exchange any glances

Who knows where they will alight, certainly not in the grass

Or in the woods. Only open spaces fit for their big sizes

You may not see them for several successive days

But you can feel them close by

This winter night will be peaceful

To be on guard for this village is their duty

孤雁

它高抬着腿，向一个地方凝望

和雁群保持着距离

直到雁群飞走了

它还在那里，那个孤单的黑影

没了起飞的力气？还是没了飞的心愿

很长时间，它在那里流连

也许这个冬天就不再点灯

那里比往年天黑的要早

也许这个冬天就拒绝大雪的覆盖

它在那里转悠

直到那声撕心的鸣叫从空中传来

悲怆终于倒尽

它选择深夜起飞。它从全世界飞走了

麦子地夜夜的不眠令它不忍

A Solitary Wild Goose

With its legs raised high, it gazes in a direction

Keeping a distance from the flock of geese

Even after the flock has flown away

It remains there, casting a lonely dark shadow

Has it lost the strength or the desire to take flight

For a long time, it lingers there

Perhaps, this winter will no longer see lights on

And darkness will fall earlier than usual

Perhaps, this winter will refuse to be covered by heavy snow

And it will keep wandering there

Until the heart-wrenching cry comes from the sky

Woes will finally flow away

It chooses to take off in the dead of night, away from the world

Fearing the sleepless nights of the wheat field will break its heart

        (Translated by Shi Yonghao; 石永浩 译)

诗人小传

  杨吉军，中国当代优秀诗人。1971年生于山东东营市。中国诗歌学会会员，山东省作家协会会员，中诗网签约作家。曾在《诗刊》《世界诗歌》《国际诗歌翻译》《诗歌周刊》《浙江诗人》《延河》《大河》、意大利《Pomezia-Notizie》文学月刊、韩国《新济州日报》、孟加拉国《Kavya Kishor》等发表诗歌。曾获第九届徐志摩微诗歌奖金奖，《世界诗歌》国际诗赛金奖，第五届诗文艺诗歌奖，2022世界诗歌网年度诗人奖，第十届意大利国际杰出诗人奖，2023年度比利时博格达尼国际文学奖。部分诗作被翻译成英语、意大利语、荷兰语、俄语、塞尔维亚语、德语、瑞典语、韩语、马其顿语等。著有诗集《最初与指向》《那个走过苇子地的人》《铁匠》《螺丝刀》《青铜》（中英对照）、《和世界》（瑞典语）、《结霜的树》等。

About the Poet

     Yang Jijun, an excellent contemporary Chinese poet, born in Dongying, Shandong Province in 1971. He is a member of Chinese Poetry Society, a member of Shandong Writers Association, a signed writer for Chinese Poetry Network. He has published poems in Poetry Magazine, World Poetry, Rendition of International Poetry Quarterly, Poetry Weekly, Zhejiang Poets, Yanhe, Dahe,, Pomezia-Notizie (Italy), New Jeju Daily (Korea), Kavya Kishor (Bangladesh), etc. He was awarded the 9th Xu Zhimo Micro Poetry Prize, the Gold Medal in the International Poetry Competition of World Poetry, the 5th Poetic Arts Poetry Award, World Poetry Network Poet of the Year Award 2022, DELLA X EDIZIONE DEL PREMIO D’ECCELLENZA INTERNAZIONALE “AUTORI LINGUA INGLESE” (Italy), and The 2023 Belgian Bogdani International Prize for Literature. Some of his poems have been translated into English, Italian, Dutch, Russian, Serbian, German, Swedish, Korean, and Macedonian, etc. He is the author of the poetry collections The First and the Point, The Man Who Walked Through the Field of Reeds, The Blacksmith, The Screwdriver, The Bronze (Chinese and English), And the World (in Swedish), and The Frosty Trees, etc.

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