Arthur Sze - Pig’s Heaven Inn 汉译

Red chiles in a tilted basket catch sunlight–

we walk past a pile of burning mulberry leaves

into Xidi village, enter a courtyard, notice

an inkstone, engraved with calligraphy, filled

with water and cassia petals, smell Ming

dynasty redwood panels. As a musician lifts

a small xun to his mouth and blows, I see kiwis

hanging from branches above a moon doorway:

a grandmother, once the youngest concubine,

propped in a chair with bandages around

her knees, complains of incessant pain;

someone spits in the street. As a second

musician plucks strings on a zither, pomelos

blacken on branches; a woman peels chestnuts;

two men in a flat-bottomed boat gather

duckweed out of a river. The notes splash,

silvery, onto cobblestone, and my fingers

suddenly ache: during the Cultural Revolution,

my aunt’s husband leapt out of a third-story

window; at dawn I mistook the cries of

birds for rain. When the musicians pause,

Yellow Mountain pines sway near Bright

Summit Peak; a pig scuffles behind an enclosure;

someone blows his nose. Traces of the past

are wisps of mulberry smoke rising above

roof tiles; and before we too vanish, we hike

to where three trails converge: hundreds

of people are stopped ahead of us, hundreds

come up behind: we form  a rivulet of people

funneling down through a chasm in the granite.

猪西天客栈

施加彰

红辣椒在捧起阳光的篮子里——

我们趟过一堆烧焦的桑叶走进

西递村，一个院子，注意到

一方石砚，雕着书法，盛满水

和桂花瓣，有味道的明代

红木镶壁板。一位乐师把埙擎到

唇边吹起时，我看见猕猴桃

悬垂于月亮门上方的枝头：

一位曾为妙龄小妾的老祖母，

缩在椅子里，膝盖绑着

绷带，喃喃抱怨病痛；

街上有人啐痰，第二位乐师

拨动古琴的弦，枝头的柚子

更黑了；一位妇人剥开栗子皮；

两个男人在一只平底船上捞

河里的鸭草。音符银亮亮

朝铺路的鹅卵石泼水，我的

手指猝然疼痛。文革间

我姨夫跃出三楼上的

窗户；在清晨，我误把雨声

听成鸟鸣；当乐师暂停，

黄山松附在光明顶近旁

摇曳；一口猪在围栏后蹒跚；

有人擤鼻子。往昔之痕

是一小把桑叶，屋瓦上轻烟袅袅

飘起；在我们也消散前，我们

向三条小径汇合处跋涉：数百人

驻足我们之前，数百人尾随在后：

我们形成人的溪流，送葬

向下穿过花岗岩的洞穴

（杨炼 译）