Crossings
Please walk with me in the moonlight tonight,
Treading on the fragile words in the forest,
Crushing a sound out of them. Indigo mountains afar
Are moving as our figures are moving.
It’s giving. I mean the infinite white.
I tell the stone
About my emerging feather,
lighter and lighter body,
And about your yearning for sharp beak and nails.
We pass by an overhanging well,
Observe in silent tribute,
Take out the bones of the well diggers to reconstruct the forest,
Put their skulls on the tree to call out,
But we don’t stay.
We will see many brutal cuts along the way.
I stroke my old wound, smiling at you,
Show you a trail of the antecedent footprints
That leads to the depths.
Before it all begins, I will fold up the cool blue lake surface,
Put it over your shoulder.
We no longer speak of love,
But rest that word on the withered twigs
To bloom for newcomers.
We will strip off our parts one by one,
At last, recall the old house
That has been forgotten in the hometown.
It actually no longer exists.
Yes, we will gradually change into white,
Then from white to transparent.
We will not know each other,
But there's still a little time left.
Let's put on the black robes of poets, walking in the moonlight.
202009
Writer: Gu Dao
Translator: LiRong
穿行
今夜請跟我在月光里穿行
踩過林間易碎的詞
把它們踩出響聲。遠(yuǎn)山暗影
隨我們的身形晃動(dòng)
它在賜予。我說的是無邊的白
我向石頭敘述蜂涌的毛，漸漸輕盈的身體
而你渴望長出尖利的喙和指甲
我們經(jīng)過一口懸空的井
默哀，取出挖井者的骨骼重構(gòu)樹林
把他們的頭顱放在樹丫上鳴叫但不停留
我們一路上會看到很多殘忍的斷口
我撫摸身上舊傷向你一笑
指給你一行腳印它先于我們通向深處
一切開始前我將折疊起微涼的藍(lán)色湖面，披在你的肩上
我們不再說愛，只把那個(gè)字安放在開敗的枝頭
向后來者開放
我們一一摘下自己的部件
最后想起了遺忘在故鄉(xiāng)的那座老屋
它事實(shí)上早已不復(fù)存在
是的我們會漸漸變白，再由白變成透明
我們將互不相識但還有一點(diǎn)剩余的時(shí)間
讓我們披上詩人的黑袍，在月光下穿行
古道
202009
