Neil Aitken 
Übersetzer:in

auf Lyrikline: 27 Gedichte übersetzt

aus: chinesisch nach: englisch

Original

Übersetzung

冬日即景,破碎的诗

chinesisch | SUN Wenbo

减法——自然的游戏——加速的……
推进到冬天——喜鹊绕树而鸣。停滞的
脚步,仰望的头——图画的意义,深灰
——这些都不是全景——不是内心
的描绘,而是你走来,我目睹到的局部
——代表了一种开始——梦幻。不确定。
破碎的现实说明他在——他不在。
我分裂自己。我剪裁一朵云——舞动的
浪漫——我希望将之围在理想的未来的身体上。
它代表一种选择,消失自我。
加入到重新塑造的生活之中——犹如淡淡的水彩画;
其中有站在阳台临风远眺——落日、飞鸟,
色彩斑斓的群山,以及透明如镜的流水。
我融入其中——成为现实的不在——语言的他者
——成为别人的怀念——在时间中这是一种情怀。
我看见其中的存在。就像看见玫瑰、紫薇,
也像看见蝴蝶、蜻蜓——但是我不说它们
的生命过于短暂——我什么都不说
——因为一次次,我利用了文字——用它们,
建造起思想的堡垒——现在我置身其中
——现在我把玩生命——减法。语言的白雪,
不是覆盖,不是遮闭——我以空面对世界。

© Sun Wenbo
Audio production: DJS Art Foundation

Winter Scenery, Broken Poem

englisch

Subtraction— the game of the nature— accelerating...
Proceeding to the winter— magpies chirping around trees. Stopping,
they look up— the meaning of the picture, dark gray,
but not a panoramic view— not a drawing of
inner life. You are walking towards me, I witness part of the scene—
it represents a beginning— a dreaming state.  Uncertainty.
The scattered reality suggests he is present, or he is not.  
I separate myself. I cut a cloud— the dancing
romantic— I want it to wrap around the body of the ideal future.
It represents a choice, a disappearance of the self.
To join the reformed life— like a touch of watercolor,
an overlooking from the balcony facing the wind— the sunset, the birds,
the multihued mountains, and the running streams like mirrors.
I immerse myself in it— becoming non-existent reality— the linguistic other
— part of other people's memories— the feeling of time.
I see the existence within, like when I see roses, crape myrtle,
or butterflies, dragonflies— I’m saying they're brief—
I’m not saying anything— because I'm only using words— using them—
to build a fortress of thinking— now I'm in it
— I play with life— subtraction. The language snow
doesn’t cover, doesn’t shield— I face the world with a void.

© Translated by Mindy Zhang and Neil Aitken

诗与真

chinesisch | JIANG Tao

6年前,我就来过这儿
带着新鲜的肺和脸
左顾右盼,看个不停
结果,车子撞在半山腰
民族司机被警察带走
我听见身下江水的咆哮
在山中,还有人高声断喝
——有何贵干?

那时,我无家累,无房产
认真读书,也没超过十年
怎么可能有答案?
结果,他们逼我不停喝酒
说一两个内地笑话
我缺氧,口拙,讲不清
像块石头从雪岭滚下
滚到了车里
又滚回了北京

北京原本圈子多,我怕生
缺钱,女友不小心得了忧郁症
所以主动住到了五环外
其他的一切皆被动
那里小区空气好
人心也绿化,邻居多是
地头蛇,基本没精英
我只能看电视观天下
知道6年来,国家大势向好又向坏
但西部的开发没落空

铁路运来更多背包客
公路运来更多四川妹
他们也狂喜,也呕吐
做梦时,老家也升高三千米
但他们人忠厚,不提问
只把命运和钞票纠缠
结果6年只是一瞬间
他们中的佼佼者
如今,可能已睡在了一起。

© JIANG Tao
Audio production: Haus für Poesie / 2015

POETRY AND REALITY

englisch

Six years ago, I came here
with a clean face and fresh lungs
looking around, non-stop,
and caused a car to crash into the hillside.
The driver, a local Tibetan, was arrested by the police.
I heard the roar of the river below
and people cried out in the mountains:
What are you here for?
But I didn't have a family then, nor a house,
nor more than ten years of serious study.
How could I answer?
So they made me drink non-stop
and tell a couple of jokes from the interior
but the air was too thin, I stammered
like a stone rolling down the snowy mountain
rolling into the car
and rolling back to Beijing.
There were many circles in Beijing, I was shy,
poor, and my girlfriend was deeply depressed
so I chose to live outside the five rings.
Since then, everything has just happened.
The air is fresh in the neighborhood,
everything's greenified, even people, neighbors
are mostly salt-of-the-earih, no elites,
I watch TV to know what's going on.
These past six years, the country's had its ups and downs.
Has all that development out west come to nothing?
Railroads have brought in more backpackers,
more Sichuan girls on the way.
They're also enraptured, they vomit as well,
dreaming too of their homes rising three thousand meters high,
but they're honest, don't ask questions,
fate and dollar bills are bound together.
Six years gone in a flash.
The very best of them
most likely by now have slept together.

Translated by Ming Di, Neil Aitken, and Tony Barnstone

一个作了讲师的下午

chinesisch | JIANG Tao

黑压压的一片,目光怎能这么轻易
就分出了类型:男与女、正与邪、昆虫和外星人
时光也从左脸放纵到右脸
停下的时候,就下课了,讲台像悬崖自动地落下

原来,这世界大得很,每一片树叶下
都藏了一对偷吻的学生,在那一泡像被尿出的但并不因此
而著名的湖上,也浮了更广大的坟

不需要准备,就可以放声,就可以变形
——时刻准备着,但据来电显示
我的变形要从鳞翅目开始,也不轻松。


© JIANG Tao
Audio production: Haus für Poesie / 2015

THE AFTERNOON I STARTED TEACHING

englisch

A huge crowd of darkness —
so how is it that I can so easily identify
male and female, decent and evil, insects and aliens?
Time indulges itself,
tongueing slowly from my left cheek to my right.
When it stops, the class ends, the platform descends
like A cliff.

So. this is the world, larger than I thought.
Under every leaf
hides a pair of students shoplifting kisses. On the famous lake
the color of pee (although not famous for that)
float large graves.

You don't need to be prepared,
just open your mouth and you'll be transformed
— you're actually always ready. But
according to an incoming text message
my evolution, not so easy, needs to start from a winged insect.

Translated by Ming Di, Neil Aitken, and Tony Barnstone

古猿部落

chinesisch | JIANG Tao

树林里落满果实,猩红的地毯
源于地质的变迁
水退了,老虎的剑齿烂了
我们围着空地商量未来
老的刚从进化里爬出,挥老拳
少的已按耐不住舌头,要第一个
去吃梅花鹿,移山的志向没有
倒可以涉水,南方北方的
田野只是一张餐桌
所谓共和闹哄哄
还是独裁之秋赶走蚊蝇
好在我们都直立着
可以观天象,徒手挣脱了食物链
但十月的劳动力
还是倾向剩余:不需要画皮,烹饪
肉身当木柴,只有公的继续
将母的掀翻,朗诵牠的美
但要说出“我爱你”
至少春花秋月的,还要两百万年

© JIANG Tao
Audio production: Haus für Poesie / 2015

THE TRIBE OF APES

englisch

Fruit falls all over the forest, a bloody carpet
laid down when the earth shifted
Now the water has receded, and the tigers' saber teeth have rotted,
we gather around a clearing to discuss our future
The elderly crawl out of evolution, waving wrinkled fists
and the younger ones can't hold their tongues, eager
to feast on the Sika deer, splashing through the low water
with no desire to "move mountains." From North to South,
the whole field is a dining table
The "Republic" mutters, while the dictators
chase after mosquitoes and flies
Fortunately we all stand upright, able to see easily
what's coming, to break the shackles of the food chain
But our efforts in October tend to produce
surplus: we don't need face-painting, cooking or
to use flesh as lumber, only males overthrowing females
continuously while chanting their animal-beauty
But to speak the words I love you will take at least
another two million years
of spring cherries and autumn moons

Translated by Ming Di, Neil Aitken, and Tony Barnstone

像雪山一样升起丛书

chinesisch | Zang Di

每天早上,雪山都会赶在太阳升起之前,
填满我的窗户。汽车的声音
将最后的夜色拧到最小。樱花的影子
随时都在取代时间的影子。

不用看就知道,这窗户曾被冬天借走,
现在又被还给春天。在这窗户上
有命运的一张纸。捅不捅,都一样。
在这张纸上有诗的一个小洞。

因为有这小小的透气孔,你能看得比我更远。
你用遥远的事物忠实于我身边的矛盾。
在北京,说到雪山,我会朝西边想,
而在金泽,我必须习惯雪山只出现在东边。

每天早上,我都会从窗户里看到
连绵的雪山慢慢升起它的旗帜。
这之后,才是太阳缓缓爬过雪山的脊背,
它的金针刺向万物的神经。

2011.4.

© Zang Di
Audio production: Literaturwerkstatt Berlin, 2015

RISE UP LIKE A SNOW MOUNTAIN, A BOOK SERIES

englisch

Every morning the snow mountains will fill up my window
before the sun rises. Automobile sounds turn down the volume
of night to the minimum, yet the shadows of cherry blossoms
will at any moment replace the shadows of time.
 
Needless to say this window had been taken by the winter
but returned to the spring. On the window is a piece of paper
that tells fortune, but it will say the same thing whether you poke it
or not. On the paper is a small hole of poetry.
 
And because of this small vent you can see much further than me.
You stay remote but faithful to the contradictions around me.
In Beijing, I would think toward west when it’s about snow mountains,
but here in Kanazawa, I must get used to the east where snow rises.
 
Every morning I see from the window
the mountain range that slowly raises its flag,
and then the sun will take its turn to climb the ridge of
the snow mountains while its golden needles stab the nerves of all.
 
2011. Kanazawa


原始角色丛书

chinesisch | Zang Di

多年前,我的肉体将我错过。
这事情本不该发生,但事实上,
已重复过多次。我的肉体是我的奇迹,
但这听上去太高调。我当时的想法是,
奇迹会减弱自由,且很有可能,
奇迹是堕落的另一种形式。我的肉体,悬挂着,
像成熟的苹果,随时都会坠落。
你知道,如果碰巧砸到脑袋上,
世界也许会再次开窍。我侧卧在草地上,
周围布满了夏日昆虫的各种思想。
我喜欢任何有节奏的事情。
草地上,不须提炼,昆虫的思想就很有节奏。
顺着那节奏,我似乎能摸到命运的把柄。
我带去了半瓶葡萄酒,嚼在嘴里的牛肉干
散发着牦牛的气息。我消磨着
仿佛再不会被错过的我。我的肉体
曾是三只刚刚爬过垭口的牦牛。
那里,阿坝的雪水像透明的琴弦,
曾溶化过花岗岩比还坚硬的记忆。
我的肉体将我错过,意思是,从一开始,
我的肉体就由属于一个男人的肉体
和属于一个复活者的肉体组成。
它们带给我的快乐像真理一样矛盾。
但是,盲目的,从来就不是肉体,
你知道,我能解释的,还远不止这些。

2010.5

© Zang Di
Audio production: Literaturwerkstatt Berlin, 2015

THE BOOKS OF THE ORIGINAL ROLE

englisch

Years ago my body missed me.
This shouldn’t have happened, but in fact,
did, many times. My body is my miracle,
which sounds presumptuous, but what I was thinking
was how miracles constrain my freedom, and even
constitute another form of corruption.  My body hanging there,
like a ripe apple that could fall at any time.
You know, if it strikes you on your head by chance
the world will probably crack open, awakening.
I lay on my side on the grass, surrounded by the thoughts
of summer insects. I like things with a rhythm.
On the grass, the insects thought rhythmically without tuning.
Following that rhythm, it seemed as if I’d seized
fate by its Achilles’ heel.
I’d brought a half-bottle of wine, the beef jerky I was chewing
full of the yak’s life. I was grinding down my own body
that would not miss me anymore. My body
was once the three yaks who had just emerged from the valley.
There, the snow-streams on the Aba were like clear strings
that had melted the memory of hard granite stones.
My body missed me, meaning that from the beginning
my body was a composition of bodies
from a man and the one who returns from death.
They’ve brought me joys that contradicted each other like the truth.
However, what is blind is never the body itself.
You know, I could have explained this much better.

2010

Translated from the Chinese by Ming Di and Neil Aitken

仙鹤丛书

chinesisch | Zang Di

由于你的存在,对我而言,
世界不过是一种温习。重新开始,
或是,重新迷惑于自我。
会飞的自我确实是一次很好的演习。

倒下去的世界并不在脚下,
它遥远如一个幽深的洞
是一座美丽的教堂。里面的神
像你用手抓住的蛇。一旦松手,

誓言就有了信仰的尺寸——
大有大的爱法,小有小的微妙。
朱红色的肉冠比元素还元素。
你现在理解这些,还不算太晚。

你什么时候理解这些,都不算太晚;
就仿佛站起来的世界有赖于
你能用单腿独立在优美的睡眠中。
风大一点,对我们来说,就不方便,

但对于你,风是风格的加法,将风姿丰富到
我所接触过的事物的极限。
世界有极限,才会有你
尖锐地对立在人类的麻木中。

2010.3.

© Zang Di
Audio production: Literaturwerkstatt Berlin, 2015

THE BOOKS OF CRANES

englisch

Because of you, everything for me is
but practice.  Start over,
or get lost in the self again.
To fly one’s self is indeed great exercise.

The world falls, but not beneath me,
it lies in the distance, a deep hole,
a beautiful church whose god
is a snake caught in your hands. Once let go,

vows gain the dimensions of faith—the great
have their own way of loving, the small, their own subtleties. 
The scarlet crown more elemental than the elements.
It's not too late to understand these—

it's never too late for you.
The world rising to its feet depends
on whether you can sleep on one leg gracefully.
The wind would make it difficult for us,

but for you, it adds style to your stance, carrying elegance
to the limits of all that I've ever reached.
The world has limits, so that we can see you stand
sharply against the numbness of humanity.

2010

Translated from the Chinese by Ming Di and Neil Aitken

水仙史丛书

chinesisch | Zang Di

福岛余震不断。半个地球
正慢慢卷入真相的漩涡中。
更多的动荡分不清政治的远和近,
将命运的泡沫溢出人生的边沿。
而这些黄水仙花却纹丝不动。
或者说,它们的动静像恐龙骨头的动静。
它们选择在四月开放,就好像
我们有时想赶在时间的前面。
不必羞涩,你就常常喜欢赶在我的前面。
它们长得像大葱,但不是用来吃;
它们是为看准备的。它们是
为了让我们看见不同的我们而准备的。
有时,我会走得比孤独还要远,
我看见你刚向虚无啐了一口痰。
这股狠劲让我意识到这些水仙
对我们的历史所做的事情。
它们的历史不是栽种史,也不是
品种的分布史,而是你我
曾在什么时候看见你身上的花的
一连串的记录。它们确实从历史的后面
把我们带到了时间的前面。
我不会为我不够狂热而道歉,
我只会为我不够微妙而道歉。
就把地点选在金泽吧。这里,
某种偏远正适合我走进它们的历史。
就这么深入吧。就这么看待它们的动静吧。
在我们没有去过的地方
它们读我们,就好像我们
在它们不在的时候,看见它们的精神
恬静在现实的巨大的阴影中。

2011.4.

© Zang Di
Audio production: Literaturwerkstatt Berlin, 2015

HISTORY OF DAFFODILS, A BOOK SERIES

englisch

The aftershocks continue in Fukushima. Half the earth
is gradually drawn into the whirlpool of truth,
unclear of what’s ethically far or near in further turmoil
that overflows the bubbles of fate to the edge of life.
But these yellow daffodils remain absolutely still.
Or they move like the spines of dinosaurs, dynamically static.
They choose to bloom in April, like us
when we sometimes try to race against time.
(Very often you like to race against me, no need to shy away.)
They look like green onions but they are not for eating—
they are prepared for being looked at. They are prepared
for us to see the different us.
Sometimes I go much further than loneliness,
I see you spit to nothingness,
which makes me aware of what these daffodils have done
to the history of ours. Their history is not how they were planted,
or distributed, but a series of records of what’s blossomed on you
as we saw at a certain time. They indeed have brought us
from behind the history to the front of time.
I will not apologize for not being enthusiastic enough.
I will only apologize for not being subtle enough.
Let’s make it here in Kanazawa then. Here 
a remoteness allows me to walk into their history.
Let it be, this deep way. Let it be, the way we look at their movement.
They see us from where we have never been, the same way
that we, in their absence, see their spirit
tranquil in the enormous shadows of reality.

2011. Kanazawa

Translated from the Chinese by Ming Di and Neil Aitken

乱云丛书

chinesisch | Zang Di

飞着,但不像是在飞。
没有人知道它们的彼岸在何处?
真的没有人吗?我们的彼岸
可否借给它们一用?没有人能做主吗?
要么就是,在我们的睡梦中,
它们飞向我们,飞近我们,
越来越近,近到好像从来就没有一个远
能真正远离我们。我们用我们的梦
把这些美丽的云吸进我们的身体。
我们有巨大的吸力,但我们并不知道。
它们有巨大的姿态,但它们也不知道
美丽而无用的界限究竟在何处?
我们以为梦只是一种界限,
并不知道梦还像一种洞,吸力巨大。
或者,梦就是一个洞,
比洞更接近洞,比洞更像洞;
有时白得刺眼,更多的时候黑得深奥。
梦,用洞工作着。带不带色,
你说你说了不算,不管用。
给现实一个面子,我们就是梦的对象。
给宇宙一个面子,我们就是梦的例外。
给诗歌一个面子,我们就是梦的开始。
——赠聂广友

2011.4.

© Zang Di
Audio production: Literaturwerkstatt Berlin, 2015

THE BOOKS OF CHAOTIC CLOUDS

englisch

Flying, they are flying, but they don’t seem to be.
No one knows where the other shore is for them.
Nobody’s really there? Then, can they borrow
the other shore from us? No one can decide?
Or perhaps, in our sleep
they are flying to us, toward us,
closer and closer, as if there's never a faraway
that’s really far away from us. Our dreams
absorb the beautiful clouds into our bodies.
We have great sucking power, we didn’t know.
They have great appearance, they didn’t know
where the nicely-formed but useless boundary lay.
We thought dreams were boundaries,
but didn’t know they were like holes, profound attractions.
Or, dreams are holes,
closer to holes than holes, more like holes than holes;
with white glares sometimes, more often with black mysteries.
Dreams work with holes. With or without color,
you say what you say doesn’t count, it’s no use.
To honor reality, we are the objects of dreams.
To honor cosmos, we are the exceptions of dreams.
To honor poetry, we are the beginnings of dreams.
 
                   —for Nieguang You

2011. Kanazawa

Translated from the Chinese by Ming Di and Neil Aitken

画梦人丛书

chinesisch | ZANG Di

最近,我常常梦见我变成了
一株植物。细小的根,像尖锐的念头,
在黑暗的泥土中不停地延伸;
在最不可能有缝隙的地方
它们也能找到缝隙。哦,黑暗中的缝隙,
当它们找到那些缝隙,
缝隙就有了另外一层意思。
开始时,也许只是一种改变,
但到了后来,就影响到一种微妙的创造,
它们将那些缝隙变成了这些通道。
哦,秘密的滋润。接下来,
是你的戏剧性占了上风。
粗壮的茎杆上长出的鲜嫩的茸毛
甚至让女人的皮肤看上去都有点假。
但是,假,不是重点;重要的是,
那茎杆的象征性一旦被把握,
大地的灵感就会转化成一种
仿佛只有你才能领悟的生机。
但是,更重要的是,只要是生机,
它们就会在秘密中共鸣。所以,
一点也不奇怪,在这么深的地方
你也能听到黄雀的啼叫。
甚至连唯一的回应也变成了
交底牌:你知道,我做这样的梦,
并不仅仅是为了我自己。

2010.11.

© Zang Di
Audio production: Literaturwerkstatt Berlin, 2015

THE BOOKS OF PAINTING THE DREAMED ONE

englisch

Lately I often dream of myself
becoming a plant. Small roots, like thoughts, horned,
penetrate the earth in the dark,
searching for clefts where most unlikely
to find—the cleft of darkness.
Once found, it bears another layer of meanings.
In the beginning, it might represent
just a small change, but later on, it brings about
a whole creation of subtlety, making holes
into a channel. Oh the secret fluid.
Then, your dramatics takes an upper hand.
The sturdy stem grows fresh tender fibers
that even make women's skin look a little fake.
But fake or not is not the point; what’s important
is that once you hold the symbol of the stem,
the inspiration from the earth transforms
into a Zest that only you can grasp.
What’s more important is that as long as it’s life,
it echoes in secret. Therefore,
it’s not surprising that in such a deep place
you can still hear the chirping of an oriole.
Even the sole response has become our cards
to show – you know I’ve had this dream
not only for myself.

2010

Translated from the Chinese by Ming Di and Neil Aitken

也许真理在你那边丛书

chinesisch | Zang Di

大雁飞过漏洞。
你不看,这些蔚蓝的漏洞就不存在。
你不去填补,这些带翅膀的真理
就不会停止煽动。

你不是你唯一的对象:煽动它,
自我会溶成岩浆,用于爱,或抽象的火山。
你不爆发,这些藏在命运中的器皿
就不会被认出。

你的真理是大雁,与浩渺碰一次头,
奇迹就变成心迹。我的真理是一条绳子,
它粗到一定程度时,我就用它来鞭打一群野狼,
它们刚冲破我身体的漏洞,奔跑在大雁的叫声里。

2010.9.

© Zang Di
Audio production: Literaturwerkstatt Berlin, 2015

THE BOOKS OF TRUTH BEING POSSIBLY ON YOUR SIDE

englisch

Wild geese are flying through loopholes.
If you don’t look, the blue loopholes cease to exist.
If you don’t fill the holes, the winged truth
will not stop flapping.

You are not your only object: stir up,
the self will dissolve into magma, for love or some volcano.
If you don’t erupt, the vessels concealed
will not be made known.

Your truth is a goose in flight, encountering the vast expanse,
the miraculous becomes a state of mind. My truth is a rope,
rough to a certain extent, I will whip the wolves
bursting out of my body, running in the cries of geese.

2010

Translated from the Chinese by Ming Di and Neil Aitken

真实的瞬间丛书

chinesisch | Zang Di

九条狗分别出现在街头和街角,
大街上的政治看上去空荡荡的。冷在练习更冷。

八只喜鹊沿河边放飞它们自己的黑白风筝,
你被从里面系紧了,如果那不是绳索,

那还能是什么?七辆出租车驶过阅读即谋杀。
所以最惊人的,肯定不是只留下了六具尸体。

身旁,五只口袋提着生活的秘密,
里面装着的草莓像文盲也有过可爱的时候。

四条河己全部化冻,开始为春天贡献倒影,
但里面的鱼却一个比一个悬念。

三个人从超市的侧门里走出来,
两只苹果停止了争论。你怎么知道你皮肤上的

农药,就比我的少?但我们确实知道,
一条道上,不必只有一种黑暗。

© Zang Di
Audio production: Literaturwerkstatt Berlin, 2015

MOMENTS OF TRUTH, A BOOK SERIES

englisch

Nine dogs scatter on the street and around the corners,
politically empty and deserted. Cold practices being colder.

Along the river eight magpies fly off the kites of their own black and white.
You are fastened from inside. What else can it be if not a rope?

Seven taxis pass through the reading and get murdered.
What’s more surprising? Certainly not the six bodies left behind.

On the roadside, five pockets carry the secret of life,
the strawberries inside look illiterate but lovely.

All four rivers thaw, and start to contribute reflections for the spring.
But the fish in the river remain a flock of suspense.

Three men walk out of the side doors of a supermarket.
Two apples have stopped arguing. How do you know if you don’t know

you have as many pesticides as on my skin? But we do know that
on one street there can be more than one darkness.

2013

Translated from the Chinese by Ming Di and Neil Aitken

试飞协会

chinesisch | Zang Di

在策兰和阿米亥之间,有一个杜甫;
我们应该打一眼井,把他从下面拽上来。
我们总得抽出点时间,听听来自地下的口信。
在阿米亥和特朗斯特吕姆之间,有一个王维;
我们应该把青山挖一个洞,把他从蛇的睡眠王国里唤醒。
在策兰和特朗斯特吕姆之间,有一个李商隐,
我们应该凿开惊呆了的石头,用千年的鸟粪
把他的影子慢慢烤成一块面包。
在阿米亥和泰德休斯之间,有一个姜夔,
我们应该把他从树里抠出来,
放进篮子,再用滑轮和绳子
把他吊到树顶。在那里,
篮子会变回鸟巢。我们仿佛又迂回到了
人和鸟一起试飞的年代。

2014 年8 月22 日

© Zang Di
Audio production: Literaturwerkstatt Berlin, 2015

FLYING ASSOCIATION

englisch

Between Celan and Amichai there is a Du Fu.
We should drill a well and draw him up.
Carve out time to listen to the voice from underground.
Between Amichai and Tranströmer, there is a Wang Wei.
We should dig a hole in the green hill to wake him up
from the sleeping realm of snakes.
Between Celan and Tranströmer, there is a Li Shangyin.
We should drill through the stunned stone, use a thousand years of guanos
to slowly bake his shadow into a loaf of bread.
Between Amichai and Ted Hughes, there is a Jiang Kui.
We should pull him out of that tree.
Put him in a basket, and then, with a pulley and a rope,
haul him up to the treetop. There,
the basket becomes a bird's nest, as if we've wandered
into an age when both men and birds attempt to fly.
 
2014

Translated from the Chinese by Ming Di and Neil Aitken

我喜爱蓝波的几个理由

chinesisch | Zang Di

他的名字里有蓝色的波浪,
奇异的爱恨交加,
但不伤人。浪漫起伏着,
噢,犹如一种光学现象。
至少,我喜欢这样的特例——
喜欢他们这样把他介绍过来。
他命定要出生在法国南部,
然后去巴黎,去布鲁塞尔,
去伦敦,去荒凉的非洲
寻找足够的沙子。
他们用水洗东西,而他
用成吨的沙子洗东西。
我理解这些,并喜爱
其中闪光的部分。
我不能确定,如果早生
一百年,我是否会认他作
诗歌上的兄弟。但我知道
我喜欢他,因为他说
每个人都是艺术家。
他使用的逻辑非常简单:
由于他是天才,他也在每个人身上
看到了天才。要么是潜在的,
要么是无名的。他的呼吁
简洁但是复杂:“什么?永恒。”
有趣的是,晚上睡觉时,
我偶尔会觉得他是在胡扯。
而早上醒来,沐浴在
晨光的清新中,我又意识到
他的确有先见之明。

2002.高雄

© Zang Di
Audio production: Literaturwerkstatt Berlin, 2015

A FEW REASONS WHY I LOVE RIMBAUD

englisch

His name carries blue waves,
a strange love-hate
that doesn’t hurt. Slow waves that rise and fall—
like a spectroscopic phenomenon.
At least, I'm fond of this odd way
he was introduced to us.
Destined to be born in southern France,
then to go to Paris, to Brussels,
to London, to wild Africa
to find enough sand.
People wash things with water, but he
washed things with vast quantities of sand.
I understand all this, and love
the glittering part of it.          
I can’t be sure though, if I would take him
as a poetry brother had I been born
a hundred years earlier.  But I know
I like him, because he said
everyone was an artist.
His reasoning was very straightforward:
being a genius himself, he saw genius
in everyone, either potential,
or unknown.  His appeal,
simple but complex.  “Quoi? – L'Éternité.”
It's funny that when I sleep at night,
I occasionally think he was talking nonsense,
but when I wake up in the morning, bathed
in the freshness of early light, I realize
he was certainly foresighted.

2002. Kaohsiung


詹姆斯·鲍德温死了

chinesisch | Zang Di

雪下得太少。这孤独的
征兆已持续多年,默默的
像一种神秘的仇恨

所以一旦大雪突降
死就要被祭奠
还必须是与它相克的肉体

必须构成过一种伟大的
阻碍。死最渴望的
是它曾不得不忍受过的肉体

詹姆斯·鲍德温的肉体
在雪光的映衬下,是合格的
他看上去比死还要气派些

一个丰盛的牺牲品
他在雪中变得乌黑,而后
雪在他的精神中变得乌黑

(1987)

© Zang Di
Audio production: Literaturwerkstatt Berlin, 2015

JAMES BALDWIN IS DEAD

englisch

It snowed very little—a sign of loneliness
that persisted many years, quietly
like a mysterious hatred

When a heavy snow bursts
death will have to be offered
as a body that contradicts it

and constitutes a great obstacle
What death desires most
is the body that it had to endure

James Baldwin's body
is pursued, in the background of snow
He looks more impressive than death

A luxurious victim
he turned pitch-black in the snow
and in his soul, the snow darkened as well

1987

Translated from the Chinese by Ming Di and Neil Aitken

街头音乐

chinesisch | LÜ De-an

他们只是让音乐               
在一边放着
他们把车停泊路旁
那响亮的黑色吉普

他们也围住音乐
踩着节拍
但多数时候是音乐
在独自响着

那条街己漂出了
街的意义之外
象被掏空的巢
飞离了树枝

音乐的通宵达旦的力量
支撑着那群幽暗的躯体----
他们聚合又离散
却始终在那条街上

音乐还支撑另一些
路边的流浪汉
他们恢复了行走
在没有睡眠的梦乡

© Lü De-an
Audio production: DJS Art Foundation

Street Music

englisch

They park their black jeep on the curb
and leave the music on
to blare on its own
into the street.

They gather around it
to keep the beat
but mostly they drift away
and let the music run
on its own.

The street is drifting up
above the city
away from other streets
like an emptied nest
blown free from the branches of a tree.

All night long
the music holds the drifting bodies together—
their shadows gather and disperse
on and above.

The homeless on the roadside
join them, swaying their light bodies
in their empty dreams.

(1992. New York)

© Translated by Mindy Zhang and Neil Aitken

时光

chinesisch | LÜ De-an

闪电般的镰刀嚓嚓响,
草在退避,不远处一只小鸟
扑的一声腾空逃窜

到你发现草丛里躺着一颗蛋
我已喊了起来----草歪向一边
光线涌入:它几乎还是透明的

现在我们喝酒谈论着这件事:
那时你躬身把它拾进口袋
不加思索,而你的的姿态

又象对那只远遁的鸟表示了歉意

© Lü De-an
Audio production: DJS Art Foundation

Tempus Fugit

englisch

The sickles cut like lightning,
the grass retreats, not far away a bird
escapes, startled into the air.

You snatch an egg from the grass
before I can call out— blades part to one side,
light floods in— almost transparent.

And now we drink and laugh about that moment:
the way you bent over as you pocketed the egg
without hesitation, and how from behind

your butt seemed to apologize to the bird flying away.

© Translated by Mindy Zhang and Neil Aitken

纽约今夜有雪

chinesisch | LÜ De-an

纽约今夜有雪------那又怎样
我们眼睛里的黑暗将首先降临
不是在曼哈顿和罗斯福岛
也不在其它任何地方

整个勿忙的一天尚未过去
但我们已准备放下手中活
至少开始等待并感觉到
今夜将是一年中最黑暗的一夜

我们看见鸟儿飞过天边
想必它们也知道天气的变化
慌乱中寻找一次降落
就象我们眼睛里的黑暗

会在什么地方------大家都在说
纽约今夜有雪。此事虽未证实
但有一点是:明天我们不是被雪覆盖
就是祉自己的黑暗完全笼罩

© Lü De-an
Audio production: DJS Art Foundation

New York, It’s Going to Snow Tonight

englisch

It’s going to snow tonight in New York— So what.
The darkness in our eyes will fall first.
Not in Manhattan or Roosevelt Island.
Nor in any other places.

It’s busy all day long, it's not yet coming to an end
but we're ready to stop whatever we're doing.
Or at least we begin to wait, and sense
it will be the darkest night of the year tonight.

I see birds flying over the horizon—
they must have learned about the weather too.
They're looking for a landing, in panic
like the darkness in our eyes.

Where is it going to be? Everyone says it's New York
where the snow will fall. It’s not yet confirmed
but one thing's for sure: tomorrow we'll be shrouded by snow,
or completely veiled by our own darkness.

© Translated by Mindy Zhang and Neil Aitken

晨曲

chinesisch | LÜ De-an

我原没想到,我竟然拥有一所
自己的房子,院前一大堆乱石,
有的浑圆漆黑,从沃土孵出,
有的残缺不全,象从天而降。

四周弥漫着一种房子落成后
的寂静,而它们是多出来的,
看了还让人动心:那高高的一堆,
或许还能凑合把一道围墙垒成。

如果你不知道我有多累,路过时
又不知道它们出自何处----
只晓得铭记一句老话:点石成金,
那么你也就不能将我的心情揣度。

现在我只想从它们中间挑出一块,
再原原本本地放回,且不论它
是圆是缺,或是高兴或是孤独:
我们真心真意,它就会手舞足蹈!

© Lü De-an
Audio production: DJS Art Foundation

Morning Song

englisch

I never thought I would own a cabin.
In front there's a great pile of rocks,
some smooth and dark, hatched from the fertile soil,
some rough and imperfect, as if from the sky.

All around is quiet, like when a house
is just completed. The rocks are just leftovers
but still somehow captivating. A huge heap
perhaps enough to throw together a wall.

You don’t know how tired I am, and
you don't know where the stones are from.
Just recall the old saying about the Midas touch,
and don't try to guess what I have in mind.

All I want to do now is to take one stone
and return it to where it belongs, regardless
whether its smooth and chipped, happy or lonely:
if I’m sincere, the stone will leap!

© Translated by Mindy Zhang and Neil Aitken

残疾的女邻居

chinesisch | LÜ De-an

残疾的女邻居,跟我一块长大
我们是在花朵相仿的年月出生
当她又挪动椅子坐在门槛
我已一抬腿就能跨过篱笆

一早,她的眼睛里的那双翅膀
拖过地板,房间时就有太阳冷漠地歌唱
可我一抬腿就能跨过篱笆
心中铭记一句话:奔向远方

她是天生双脚残疾,还在萎缩
我们之间怎么能存在爱情
她还要长大,直到找到她的痛苦
而我一抬腿就能跨过篱笆

这是天生的,她还要去习惯永远
被粘住在地面,被一步步地吞噬
而我一旦抬腿跨过篱笆
兴许永远不再回来:消失在远方

© Lü De-an
Audio production: DJS Art Foundation

My Neighbor

englisch

She grew up with me, my next door neighbor
born in the season of flowers but
stricken with polio.
I walk and jump and run.
She shifts her walker along to reach the door,
while I cross the barrier with a simple lift of one leg.

The shadowy wings in her eyes scan the floor,
a sun in her room sings
but indifferently.  She sits low,
a fairy with withered legs
that keep shrinking as she grows

and grows into a woman, to find the pain
the moment I raise my legs
and walk away.

She'll get used to
being stuck to the ground forever,
restrained step by step
until the shadowy wings in her eyes take her
to where I run and disappear.

© Translated by Mindy Zhang and Neil Aitken

沉默

chinesisch | LÜ De-an

沉默,有时候我找到他的背后
  在深处拾起他的石头
沉默,有时我是发生在其中的
  一件事----继续拾取他的石头

基于我对时光的认识
  我深信黑暗只是一片喧哗的
找不到语言的嘴唇
  象爱,象雪.....

沉默是否就是这样一种黑暗
  在他的阴影下,我尝试着说话
或者,我终于能拾起那块石头
  远远的扔出他的肩头

© Lü De-an
Audio production: DJS Art Foundation

Silence

englisch

Silence. Sometimes I fumble behind it
  and pick up stones from its depths
Silence. Sometimes I’m inside it, one of
  its occurrences— and continue to pick up stones

I know what time means
  I know that darkness is only a pair
of lips that can’t find its language in noise
  like love, like snow...

Is silence the dark shadow
  under which I try to speak?
Or, am I finally able to pick up a stone
  and throw it far beyond?

© Translated by Mindy Zhang and Neil Aitken

曼哈顿

chinesisch | LÜ De-an

如果在夜晚的曼哈顿
  和罗斯福岛之间
一只巨大的海鸟
  正在缓缓地滑翔,无声

无息; 如果这是一个
  又刮风又降雪的夜晚,
我不知道这只迷惘的海鸟
  是不是一时冲动

这是两个透亮的城市
  中间是不断缩小的海
在夜晚,如果鸟儿
  仅仅是想适应一下如何

在一道道光的缝隙里生存
  抑或借助光和雪
去追随黑暗中的鱼群
  那么,但愿它如愿以偿

如果我还惊奇地发现,这只鸟
  翅膀底下的腋窝是白色的
我就找到了我的孤独
  在曼哈顿和罗斯福之间

© LÜ De-an
Audio production: DJS Art Foundation

Manhattan

englisch

If, at night, between Manhattan
  and Roosevelt Island
a huge seabird
  is gliding slowly, silent

without even breathing; if this is a
  night with wind and snowfall,
I wonder if this seabird in confusion
  moves at the spur of the moment.

These are two bright cities
  with a shrinking sea in between.
At night, if the bird just
  wants to get used to surviving

in the gaps of light
  or with the help of light and snow
to follow the fish in the dark,
  let it fulfill its wishes then.

If I find, in surprise, in the hollow
underneath the wings—white,
then I have found my solitude
  between Manhattan and Roosevelt.

© Translated by Mindy Zhang and Neil Aitken

夜泳之歌

chinesisch | SUN Wenbo

深夜,到京密引水渠游泳,
只有这时可以不穿游泳裤,
无比舒服!轻轻划水静静地想。
累了,躺在水里,抬头望夜空,
一颗颗星星,明亮。感叹自己不懂
星象学,惟一认识的只是北斗七星
——一把大勺挂在虚无之中央。
胡乱猜测人马是哪一个,天秤又是哪一个。
觉得一片像柔美天鹅,另一片像雄壮狮子。
突然感到水中有什么东西在腿上轻碰,
低下头,透过水看见好像是鱼。
这是多么惬意的事情!
水与天空仿佛属于我一人——几句诗
就此跳出来——深夜,赤裸身体游泳,
我希望游得灵魂像星光出窍,
在水是天鹅,在天是人面狮。

© SUN Wenbo
Audio production: DJS Art Foundation

Night Swimming Song

englisch

Late at night, I swim in Jingmi canal—
the only hour I can leap into the water trunkless.
There's nothing like it, slow paddling through silent thought.
Exhausted, I float on my back, stare up at the blazing sky.
The stars, like bright dolphins overhead. Sadly, I know little
of astrology. I only recognize the Big Dipper—
a great spoon suspended in the center of nothingness.
I make wild guesses, which is Sagitarius, which Libra?
One grouping looks like a graceful swan, another, a mighty
lion. I feel something move past my legs—
I glimpse a fish through the water.
How amazing. The sky and
water seem mine alone— a few lines
jump out. Deep in the night, naked, swimming,
I long for my soul to lift free like the star light,
a swan in the water, a sphinx in the sky.

© Translated by Mindy Zhang and Neil Aitken

与隐喻无关

chinesisch | SUN Wenbo

在他那里,语言成为空壳,
所有的话都在寻找另一条出路。
如果他说杏树,那是指一片惨淡的白,
如果他说喝茶,那是表明一个无聊的
下午——而旁观的人,是那些
文学的门外汉,拿着批评的灭火器,
扮演落草的侠客。他们哪里知道
这里面的万千玄机;先是疾病缠上日近衰老的
身体,后是虚无来袭,把一段因缘,
搞得像一对困兽争斗——是这些压迫他,
使他看过去与未来,其中的灯红酒绿,
云雨翻覆,全部像飘渺;
不是它们飘渺,而是一说语言就飘渺。
如今他说话就是走神,就是把语言变成不是语言,
是疼痛和性交——这些谁又能彻底搞懂?
尤其是那些想从中看到结局的人。
他想告诉他们,结局就是出局。
就像他说:说话就是消耗。说出一个词
等于一秒钟或者两秒钟消失;无论
这个词是“革命”,还是“腐朽”。

© Sun Wenbo
Audio production: DJS Art Foundation

Nothing to do with Metaphor

englisch

For him, language is an empty shell,
all the words are looking for a way out.
If he says “apricot”, he's referring to “a bleak white”,
If he speaks of “drinking tea”, he means “a boring
afternoon”— the bystanders, the outsiders
of literature, picking up the fire extinguishers of criticism,
play the roles of lost knights. How would they know
the thousand layers of mystery within: first, some illness
afflicts the aging bodies, then the attack of nothingness,
a battle between two monsters— oppressing him,
they cause him to see the past and future, green liquor and red lights
overcast as rainclouds,  it all seems fleeting.
But no, they're not really fleeting, speaking of them makes them flee.
He's distracted when speaking, taking language as non-language
but pain and intercourse— who understands these at all?
Especially those who want to see an outcome.
He wants to tell them, “outcome” means way-out.
The same way as he says: “speaking” is consuming. Speaking a word
equals to a second or two of non-existence, whether it's
"revolution" or "decadence".

© Translated by Mindy Zhang and Neil Aitken

与乌鸦无关

chinesisch | SUN Wenbo

先是一只然后是一群在我眼前
扑楞楞飞起——黑色席卷天空。
我观望着,就像看一部戏
——自然之戏。我想说:一只乌鸦
是神秘,一群是恐惧——人越不出
历史之围;文化就是意识——那些在我心中
飞翔的乌鸦,是巫术是谶语,也是认识论的
禁地——而一个人的局限性是:他相信他不了解的,
信仰他不相信的——就像面对政治,我看见
根基错误的国家用怀疑主义造就了虚妄之敌
——现在,我想念逝去的童稚时代,
语言之樊蓠还没建立——我思想是幻想观看是记忆
——我记忆:乌鸦的黑与白雪的白是矛盾的统一体,
构成了一种大地之美——但消失
才是永恒——我如今观望,乌鸦成为虚构之物,
它们飞翔的地方不在现实中——它们
没有盘旋在寂静的旧日宫殿上空,
没有栖息在屋檐高高翘起的琉璃屋顶。

© Sun Wenbo
Audio production: DJS Art Foundation

Nothing to do with Crows

englisch

First just one, then a flock
flapping their crooked wings
before me — darkness sweeping the sky.
I watch as if watching a play unfold, a drama of nature.  
A single crow is mystery, a flock of crows is fear.
Humans can't escape
the past, the consciousness— the crows
flying within me:  witchcraft, prophecy, forbidden awakening.
I sit, limited: I believe what I don't understand,
trust what I don't believe, like a country
built on mistaken foundations constructing a false enemy.
I miss the days of youth, the fence of language
not yet built— only imagining, remembering—
the black crows and white snow opposite but one,
a beauty, a paradox in paradise— to vanish
was to be eternal— I watch now, the crows become fiction,
flying outside me— they're not really there, circling in old silence;
they're not really there, dwelling high on the glassy roofs.

© Translated by Mindy Zhang and Neil Aitken

平淡的生活,生硬的诗

chinesisch | SUN Wenbo

苹果在转变基因。柑橘在变性。主义
笼罩下的词绝对专制。我说,等于我
什么都没说;你反对,等于你什么
都反对。悖论的修辞,让我寻找诗的成立。
付出的是心游万壑,如鹏击长空,看到
苹果和柑橘被搞成可怜的象征;太象征了。
苹果的强硬,柑橘的粗暴。以至
在一堆词中间,我寻找它们的温柔,
必须刨开其他词。重要的是,我必须刨开
世故的、奸侫的词,它们一直试图用旧反对……,
或者这样说,一直以权威面貌出现,
好像自己是词的大臣,词的皇帝。让我感到,
词的国度其实是腐朽国。唉,我怎能
长期容忍这种事发生。我宁愿目睹混乱。
我说,混乱好啊。当苹果也能在空中飞翔,
柑橘成为与主义斗争的盾牌。或者,
当我看到苹果在词的海里翱游,就像美人鱼;
柑橘也被人看作驮起情感的骆驼。到那时
我才会觉得我得到解放;在解放中,
我写下苹果的共和和柑橘的民主。我会说:
看到苹果没有变成坦克,柑橘没有成为
炸弹。就是看到我终于没有成词的奴隶。

© Sun Wenbo
Audio production: DJS Art Foundation

Bland Life, Blunt Poetry

englisch


Apples change genes, oranges change genders,
words become absolutely tyrannical under the shadow of -ism.
I speak but say nothing; you oppose and oppose everything.
The paradox of rhetoric leads me to the way of poetry,
I travel valleys and gullies like a huge bird in the sky, only to see
fruits become symbols. Too symbolic,
the toughness of apples, the brutality of oranges. To find gentleness
I have to clear away other words from the pile. I plane off
the snobby and sneaky ones, they‘ve been trying to use the old against...
Or let me put it another way, they act as if they were authorities,
as if they were ministers, or even emperors, of words.
The kingdom of language is decadent. How have I tolerated it
for so long? I'd rather see chaos. I say
chaos is good!  When apples fly in the air
oranges become shields against the –ism. Or when I see
apples swimming in the ocean of words like mermaids,
oranges a pack of camels carrying feelings on their backs,  I feel
liberated. I feel so liberated I start writing about
the republic of apples and democracy of oranges. When I see
apples have not become tanks, oranges not bombs,
I know I've not become a slave of words after all.

© Translated by Mindy Zhang and Neil Aitken

“自由”是一个孤独的词

chinesisch | SUN Wenbo

对你的记忆就是对孤独的记忆;
一个词游走在我大脑的山峦上,
爬过陡峭山崖,下到阴冷沟壑,
就像一只被饥饿折磨的母豹,
仍然动作敏捷而来去无影地行走。
一个词告诉我:它不希望消失在虚无中,
就像从来不存在。它要我看见它,要我追踪它,
要我像猎人一样,把它从记忆中
找出并大声说出它。可是我却不知道
把它安放在哪里。一个词啊!难道我能够把你
安放在这个世界?这个世界甚至不是我的世界,
是政客的世界、商人的世界。我走在
这个世界就像走在刀尖上,走在迷宫里。
它的确是迷宫。当我看见无论电视还是报纸
都在教育人买卖的法则,当我看见
无论老年人、青年人都在说
有钱就有幸福,有钱就有尊严。
我真地感到巨大的迷宫正敞开大门。
我并不愿意走进去。我宁愿
面对一朵花、一只鸟、一颗星;我宁愿
把自己关在屋子里。我宁愿你……失踪。

© Sun Wenbo
Audio production: DJS Art Foundation

“Free” is a Lonely Word

englisch

You, a memory of loneliness, a single word
wandering the mountain ridges of my brain
over steep cliffs descending into cold ravines.
Like a leopardess tormented by hunger,
it moves swiftly without leaving a trace.
The word tells me:
it doesn’t want to disappear into emptiness
as if it'd never existed. It wants me to see it, to track it
like a hunter, and find it in the memory,
and speak its name aloud.  But I really don't know
where to put it.  Word, where can I place you
in this world?  This world that's not even mine,
a world of politicians, a world of businessmen.  
I'm walking here as if on a knife's edge, or in a maze.
It's a maze indeed.  
Television and newspapers all teach us rules,
the ins and outs of games. Everyone says
you need money to be happy, to have dignity.
I see the doors on the great maze opening wide.
I don't want to enter.  I'd rather
face a single flower, a bird, a star.  I'd rather
shut myself in this room
I'd rather let you, word... disappear.

© Translated by Mindy Zhang and Neil Aitken