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我的手长大，抚摸的道路变短
尘埃绕城市袅袅地跳循环舞
喇叭像弟弟，车轮就是万花筒
换牙的疼变成屁股上的伤疤
果实把我捉到树上，狠狠把我
摔落。哎，我感到我今天还活着
活在一个纸做的假地方；春天
咕咕叫，太阳像庸医到处摸摸
摸摸这个提前或是推迟了的
时代，摸摸这个世界的乌托邦
哎，潜龙勿用，好比一根烂绳索。
Early Spring February
Zhang Zao
the sun used to shine on me; in Chongqing one drop of
dew’s early mood enveloping images one by one
I bypass stretch after stretch of air; the railway hurts
trains till they flee the light, cuckoo’s light song left behind
I say, hello peaks, and parasol trees, pine and cypress too
height regardless, please let me love as if in secret
in Hunan, sun shining in the eyes of my childhood
my hands grew up, the gently fondled road was shortened
dust around the city whirls and dances round and round
horn like a brother, car wheels a kaleidoscope
teething pain changes into the scars on my backside
fruit presses me to the tree, mercilessly knocks me
down. Oh, I still can feel that I am alive today
alive in a phony place made out of paper; spring
clucks and coos, sun prods all over like a quack doctor
prods at these up-front or could it be these deferred
times, prods and prods at the utopia of this world
oh, shun the hidden sage, useless as a rotten rope
（Brian Holton 译）
