冬天的距離
張錯
等到一地銀杏滿地金黃,
才知道冷面的秋,決絕不可挽留。
風的語言擦身而過,寒暄,
留下透明空間。
我開始明白——
那已經(jīng)是冬天的距離。
有霧自迷蒙眼底升起
在遙遠的灰暗,那么接近
而且凄然美麗,
充滿矛盾的絕望與期盼
徘徊在秋的清冷與春的挑逗;
有一種潮濕,不是昨夜春情,
而是冬天灰色的大海。
那是一種澎湃的心酸拒絕,
就像在漫長的歲月里
去抵擋那些無法抵擋
漫然而來,飄然而去的季節(jié)。
你問我如何讓冬天名分保持清白,
我回答以蒼白容顏,星霜鬢發(fā),
還有在奇里門札羅山巔,皚白冰雪
一只海明威的豹!
那是另一種透明與堅持,
另一種冬天的距離,
沉默,并且遙不可及。
The Distance of Winter
Zhang Cuo
When the ground beneath a gingko is gold,
I know cold-faced autumn absolutely cannot be held.
The words of wind brush by, an exchange of heat and cold,
Leaving behind a translucent space.
I begin to know—
Already it is the distance of winter.
There is a fog rising from the haze behind my eyes
In the distant gloom, so near
And coldly pretty,
Despair big with contradiction and expectation
Lingering in the desolation of autumn and the provocation of spring;
There’s a dampness, not last night’s feeling of spring,
But the great gray sea of winter.
That is a billowing poignant refusal,
Just as if amid the endless years
Trying to stop the unstoppable
Seasons that breezily arrive then drift away.
You ask me how to let winter keep its pure identity,
I reply, with a pale face, a twinkling frost on my temples
And a leopard of Hemingway
At Kilimanjaro, pure white ice and snow!
That is another kind of persistence and transparency,
Another type of winter distance,
Silent, and far beyond reach.
(Michael Day 譯)