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标题: [旧作] 方壶斋今体诗,中英杂有---加拿大篇 上一主题 | 下一主题
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#1  [旧作] 方壶斋今体诗,中英杂有---加拿大篇

Poems Canada

Autumn in Fredericton
Trees thinning, the sky grows wider
As rain stops, the season feels colder
Watching the red maples I am tired of never
In those distant western hills
Oct. 13, 1996, Fredericton
Memories, adapting a Chinese song
midnight, fishing boats
slumbering with faint lights
shining on a sleepless soul.
foggy is the river
just like by-gone days, dust all over.
do you still have your smiling face? I wonder,
after so many years of oblivion.
today in this sleepless night,
you appear in my sight.
the moon sinks, and ravens crow,
an old scroll thousands of years ago.
the same waves, the same songs,
not the same moment to right our wrongs.
me and you, can we start anew?
will you ferry me over,
a passenger no more?

Aug. 9, 1997, Fredericton

Ancient Poems Rewritten
1. A Defeated Ruler

After Li Yu, emperor and poet

Time has nothing to offer but spring blossoms and autumn moon;
It takes away for ever memories of days gone by.
Last night my little mansion received east wind again;
To seek my lost land in bright moon, I was too shy.
Things should be as they were, the carved rails, the marble terraces,
Only my fair may have lost her color.
Don't you ask me how sad I am feeling now,
Behold, with spring flood, east flows the River.

2. An Army General
After Fan Zhongyan, writer and poet

Scenes change as autumn comes to the border land
No mood to stay, geese fly to the warmer climate
All around me, bugles chant their border songs
Among the mountains
A rising column of smoke, a setting sun, a closed solitary town
A cup of poorly brewed wine mirrors a home far
Over the frosty land, tunes of nomad flutes linger
Victory not at hand, I see no date to withdraw
My soul sleepless
A gray-haired man, an army general, tears of a soldier

3. Philosophizing on Life
After Yuan Haowen (1190--1257)

Old trees, deserted terraces
A touching scene of autumn.
Leisurely I drink a cup to myself.
My gray temples
Foretell the senility of autumn
And the haggardness of nature.
A half-worn heart is more prone to feelings.
Seeing grand mansions falling into decay,
I believe only those in the land of drunkenness
Can be happy.
Sailing a vast span of water,
I survey a vast land.
The moon is my candle,
And cloud my tent.
A hundred rivers of brew
Not enough to fill my cup.
What's the use of an empty name?
The ancients were wrong, I am more so.
Monkeys of wilderness! Birds in the mountains! Come and sing:
So long! Bye-bye!

4. Fisherman
Adapting Lu You (1125-1209)
A fishing rod of wind and moon,
A reed coat in smoky rain,
I live to the west where I fish.
My catch is sold but away from the city,
You think I care for a world dusty?
I take my oars when tide is in,
I moor my boat when tide is out,
With tide gone I sing my way home.
They think I am a meditator,
Nay, I am a nameless fisher.

Aug. 31, 1997

5. Solitary Abode
Adapting Su Shi, prose writer and poet

A chipped moon on leafless tree,
Quietness reigns as clock drips dry.
Walking in solitude a hermit who sees?
Shadow of a lone goose vague.
Startled, she turns her head,
Her heart felt by no one.
Of the cold branches she chooses none,
Chilly is the lonely land.
Aug. 31, 1997

6. A Man's Heart
Adapting Feng Yanyi (904--960)

For days she has gone, where is she now?
she has forgotten her return date,
Not knowing spring's coming to end.
This Clear Bright Day on a road of grass and flower,
To whose tree is her fragrant cart tied?
Tear in eyes, I murmur by the window:
Ever seen her, have you?
There are the twin swallow.
Spring sorrow flies with flower of willow,
In my long dream, her face doesn't show.
Aug. 31, 1997 Fredericton, Canada

6. After Li Qingzhao, female poet

Gone with the wind is the dusty fragrance of flowers;
Tired of the mirror is my heart.
When life is no longer the same while things still are,
Tear comes first before a word is said.
Hearing that spring is nice on the Double Stream,
I want to peddle a light boat there,
Only fearing that the tiny boat of the Double Stream,
Can't bear the weight of my sorrow.

Second version:

The dusty fragrance of flowers gone with the wind,
Tired is my heart of the mirror.
When life decays while time lasts,
My words unsaid, my tear is out.
Hearing that scenes are nice on the Double Stream,
A boat I want to row.
Yet I fear the light boat of the Double Steam,
Can't bear so much sorrow.
Sept. 17, 1997
The Moon Festival
Sept. 15 of this year is the Chinese Mid-Autumn Festival.

When the moon rises on the sea,
It shines far and wide,
The only free messenger,
That can bring my gaze home.
In the moon I seek
The shadows of a tree
A rabbit and a beauty
As well as a young man.
I wonder if you still remember
This story of our childhood,
While looking at a moon distanced
By a forest of sky-scrapers?
In this side of the Ocean,
Memories are like the sand.
That run through our fingers
Quickly, like traffic on freeway.
I close my eyes,
And see the moon cakes grandma made,
From our neighbor's molds.
Sept. 14, 1997 Fredericton
Three Poems of Maritimes
1. Alone at at a Cliff Cottage

The storm over
Fog
blurs the boundary
between the ocean and the sky
and paints them
in a huge brush
of mono-color.
Beads of rain
hang still on the titanic window
of the house
separating my gaze
and the colorful flowers
now drooping wet.
The forever grounded boat
greedily holds fast
pockets of rain
caught on its body.
Its paddle
lies crippled
beside a broken bough.

2. The Legend of a Broken Rock

At West Quaco, a huge body of a cliff broke loose several years ago. Viewed from a certain angle on the West Quaco Road, this part of the cliff resembles the head of a female looking out to the sea, as if waiting for her beloved to come back from fishing.

For centuries she
hid herself in the cliff,
confident that her loved one,
who had gone out to the sea
to fish salmon
and catch lobsters,
would come back soon.
The cliff was her home,
the trees its roof,
fending off the storms
and filtering the rain,
nourishing her
with clean water
and giving her
secure shelter.
Centuries have passed,
her man never returned.
tides have come back
into the St. John River
thousands of times,
but her man never returned.
The sea has been emptied
of her contents--
her fish grow sparse
and lobsters dwindle
and kelp lies in sick color,
withering under the sun,
but her man never returned.
One day she opened the cliff
and waded into the sea,
till the cold water of the bay
came up to her neck.
With expecting eyes,
she looks into the distance,
searching a drifting sail.

3. Loch Lomond

Dat shy an' quiet gal,
Loch Lomond,
Loch Lomond,
She dodges me every time
I come in Ole Belly's car.
I come in Ole Belly's car,
To wuk fu 'is cottage.
Ole Belly's got a cottage
Around dat bend of de road
Dat runs opposite St. Martin's
And hides in de depth of trees.
Every time I pass Loch Lomond,
I see de road sign only,
And catch a glimpse of her water,
Soft as emerald gauze.
Ole Belly never stops dere.
He stops at de airpor' gas,
To be waited by a stout lady
With toast, bacon and eggs.
He stops dere fu breakfast
As late as eleven o'clock,
And reads de Zeller's ad,
And draws a list of buys.
Den we hurry to his cottage
Messy as an age-old sty.
Dere we dust an' paint an' sweep,
Smelling de shit of mice.
Den we sit in 'is stinky car
Full of sticky rusty pennies
To go shopping in de village store
He holding 'is falling pants.
One day we passed Loch Lomond.
"It's a pretty name, " I said.
"It sounds like a Chinese word
That means 'romantic dreams'."
Old Belly laughed like a lobster,
'cause he no knew words Chinese.
The beautiful sound of "Lomond,"
Was fiddle played to cows.
Weekend o'er, we tired and go home
Sometimes in a melancholy rain.
I can't afford no sleep in de car,
'Cause I wanna see her again.

Aug. 17, 1998
Thinking of Trees
Life is like trees that change colors
From fresh green to reddish brown to pale yellow
And it is fast! Yesterday's sunny sky
Can be heavy with wet snow overnight
Sudden changes of things make us moody
And speculative about the meaning of life
Empty we feel all the labors of men
When finally Heaven destroys all
As we look back, we repent our wrongs
And beg forgiveness from those we offended
But who can redeem us, except the omnipotent
The Tao of universe, or the Lord of heaven
Trees rejuvenate, men do not
When our shells decay, to dust they go
What remain are the photo albums
Like dry leaves put away and then forgotten
Things past scatter like clouds
Into the void of sky they disappear
And rejoin at some unknown moment
Without recognizing each other
Someday, a chancy discovery of some dry leaves
In an antiquarian book of yellow pages
Will tell a story that no one can confirm
To a young heart.
Oct. 27. 1997, written at UNB library, seeing the first snow of 1997.
Reading in Kings Place
I'm reading in Kings Place
Watching wind
Diluting the sun
In mid-autumn
And forecasting the menace
Of my first Canadian winter

Inside it's warm
With late morning coffee drinkers
Senior citizens of a
Leisurely-paced town
Sipping, gossiping, blankly staring
The lone maple tree
At the Canadian Trust
Refuses to turn red
Its golden leaves
Shine stubbornly
(Printed in The Brunswickan)

Exhortation on Filial Piety
---------Being an interpretive translation of a poem in Mei's Restaurant in Fredericton.
Who can be dearer than our parents?
Who else deserves our filial piety?
A drop of respect paid to our parents
Invites a sea of love from our posterity
Someday one may become a millionaire
Yet his parents are not readily bought
Parents enjoying centennials are rare
Negligence of duty leads to sad thought
Why not serve them when they are healthy?
Why wait and then visit their lonely grave?
Harsh words do make our parents unhappy
They can't be recalled when buried in a cave.
Then one has no way to see one's mother
His repenting soul will forever linger

1998.9 Fredericton


加拿大诗抄

秋晨


夜风送来的是清晨的凉,
门外草结霜。
遍地落叶是金黄,
无人收, 自凄凉。
门口南瓜憨带笑,门里秋眠不觉晓。
独立金风深深处,只觉此心老。

An Autumn Morning
The wind of the night brings a morning cold
Outside, grass white with frost
And lawns yellow with fallen leaves
That no hand collects
Pumpkins smile by the door
No souls awake, no sound heard
Alone in the depth of autumn
I feel my heart aging
Oct. 20, 1996, Fredericton



暴风雨后


雾抹去了海与天的分野
用单一的颜色将它们涂抹
房子的大窗户上
还挂着雨珠
把我的凝视与外边湿耷耷的花
隔离开来
永远不在下海的木船
贪婪地守住
滞留在它身上的一洼洼雨水
残废了的桨
靠在断了的龙骨上


罗梦湖


像一个羞涩的姑娘,
罗梦湖啊
罗梦湖啊
每次我坐老包的车来
每次我坐老包的车来
给他的小屋干活
你总是把我们躲开

在圣马丁的对面
那条路拐弯的地方
老包有一个小屋
藏在树林深处

每次经过罗梦湖
我只能看见路标
碧绿如翡翠的纱
那是她水的一角

老包从不在这停车
他停在机场的油站
那有个硕大的女人
做给他大陆式早餐

他早餐都在那吃
吃到快晌午才完
边吃边看着广告
划出要买的物件

完了我们赶去小屋
脏得像百年的猪圈
我们给小屋打扫粉刷
闻着老鼠的粪便
然后坐进他发臭的汽车
车里尽是生锈的硬币
我们去村里的商店购物
老包得时时把裤子提起。

一天我们路过罗梦湖
我说这个名字很美
听起来象一个中文的词
意思是浪漫的梦

老包笑得像一只大虾
汉字他一个都不知道
“罗梦湖”的美丽发音
对他是给牛弹的琴

周末完了, 我们累了回家
有时要冒着伤心的雨
我不敢在车里迷糊过去
因为我要想再看一眼她

Aug. 17, 1998


树的思考 – 见1997年初雪作 1997.10.27


生活就像变换颜色的树
从鲜绿到橙红到惨黄
而且变得迅速!昨天还是晴空
今天就阴云密布
下起潮湿的雪
物的突变让我们情绪波动
并且思考生活的意义
当上苍摧毁我们的创造
我们看到人的劳作的渺小
我们回首往事, 为错误后悔
乞求我们冒犯的人能够宽恕
但是谁能宽恕我们, 除了全能
或者是上帝, 或者是宇宙之道
树木能够更新人却不能
我们的躯壳损毁便复归尘土
剩下的只有本本影集
象干枯的叶子被遗忘别处
往事如烟云散
消失在广渺中间
你我都会成为陌路
当我们在未知的将来重见
有一天, 一个偶然的机会
会让发黄书页中的枯叶重现
向一个年轻的心
讲述谁也无法证实的时间



在国王广场读书 1997


我在国王广场读书
看着风
冲淡中秋的阳光
预示着我的
第一个加拿大冬天的威胁

里面和暖如春
早晨晚起的喝咖啡的人们
休闲小城的老人
有的啜饮, 有的闲聊, 有的看着外边
茫然的眼神
对面街上的一株孤枫
拒绝变成红色
金黄的叶子
顽固地闪烁

看香港回归1997. 6. 30

潇潇香江雨,
洗尽百年风霜,
旧人离去,
唯余泪几行。
弹丸鱼村,
弹指间灯红酒绿;
歌舞升平,
演一出世纪辉煌 。
大王旗变,
几多欢喜,
几多感慨,
几多彷徨。
举国欢庆回归,
看霓虹烟火不夜港。
待红日东升,
照故地新颜,
紫荆花开淡淡香。
行一国两制,
千钧一诺,
繁荣稳定是众望。
向前看,顺历史潮流,
沧海桑田,又何堪伤?


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首页小说界诗苑散文天地纪实录文史哲艺术之声综合类侃山闲聊图库书市文摘伊甸窗