Neil Aitken, Mindy Zhang
anglais
乱云丛书
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．
Production audio: Literaturwerkstatt Berlin, 2015
THE BOOKS OF CHAOTIC CLOUDS
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