杨牧·《第二次的空门》英译

依旧是芦花的声音 <?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" />

以其裂帛的威势

辗过一杯残酒，街道倾斜

这归来确实未逢上飘摇的风雪腊月

钟鸣处，群鸦毕至

飞来探问寺院中一草率的早殇，果然

 

你竟是我记忆里倒塌的一尊石佛

微笑仍在，荆棘却已经从

你的耳际腋下

生长如盆栽妖娆。但你本是南山的泥泞

起于偶然的捏塑，或回归于苍苔兮

亦不愧乎百年芬芳的香火，中宵木鱼

以及时时窥见的佛门韵事

你本不是神——

 

据说我曾为你提刀行凶

料想那必是出关以前的事了

而我已淡忘……只依稀记得

逃亡时是浮云送我到了窗口

告辞后还赧红了面孔兀自坐在山头

原来他病酒悲秋方才有这些惜

别的怔忡

而你当时，你只乖巧地立在钟鼓声里

一昧俯视着寥寥的善男信女

等我回来为那些敛财的出家人掘井种菜

 

The Second Renunciation

Yang Mu

 

Still the sound of reed catkins

grinds with ripping

force over a cup of remaining wine, streets aslant

This return did not meet the winter month of drifting wind and snow

Where the bell chimes, a flock of crows arrives

to ask about an untimely death at the Buddhist monastery. Yes

 

in my memory you are a collapsed stone Buddha

You still smile, but brambles grow like enticing potted plants

behind your ears, under your arms. You were muddiness on the South Mountain

born of chance kneading, even returning to green moss now

you have enjoyed centuries of fragrant incense, the midnight wooden fish

Monastic scandals constantly brought to your sight

You are no god—

 

They say I committed murders for you

must’ve been before I went over the pass

and now I’ve forgotten...or only vaguely recall

When I escaped, floating clouds saw me off to the mountain’s joining

When I left, he still sat on the peak with flustered faces....

His dejection at departure was caused by drunken sickness and autumn melancholy

and at that time you just stood coyly in the sound of bells and drums

gazing down at a few praying men and women

waiting for me to return, dig wells, grow vegetables for those greedy monks