一棵树在雨中跑动

一排树木在雨中跑动

一座大森林在雨中跑动

风说，等等我，风扯住树稍

而云团扯住了风的衣角

一团团云朵拥挤如上班的公交车

不停踩刹车发出一道道闪电

为什么，为什么，为什么？

哭泣的雨水找不到骚乱的原因

雷声低沉的回答：我知道是谁

当雷声沉重地滚动过大地

它发现它错了

所有的树都立正如士兵

谁也不相信有过这样的事情

——一棵树在雨中跑动……

A tree is running in the rain.

A row of trees are running in the rain.

A big forest is running in the rain.

The wind says “wait for me” and holds treetops.

And the clouds hold the wind’s mantle.

Clouds crowd like people crowding in a bus to work.

Streaks of lightning are emanated from the constant application of the brakes.

Why, why, why?

The crying rain finds no cause for the disturbance.

The thunder booms out: I know who it is.

When it rolls heavily over the ground,

It finds it is wrong.

All the trees stand at attention like soldiers.

No one believes such a thing has ever happened:

A tree runs in the rain.

一颗子弹开始了飞行

从一声巨响中穿过细长的枪筒

这颗子弹惊恐的呼啸前行

它想停下来，但立刻明白了

它没有权利想更没有权利停下来

命定了是一颗出膛的子弹

那就飞吧，不想也要飞

那还不如不想

不想就是服从命令的好兵

服从命令，谁的命令？服从命

子弹的命，就是要飞一回！

想转弯？因为前面有个人影

这想法还没有冒出来

飞行的无形力量就让子弹

成为了另一个词：击中目标

这四个字让子弹洋溢着光荣感

光荣而骄傲的子弹

光荣而骄傲地结束了飞行——

夹在一根肋骨和皮下脂肪间

突突跳动的血管挤压着它

让子弹体会到疼痛咬啮的力量

它有点后悔飞到了不该来的地方

停在肋骨间的子弹有时间后悔

但所有的时间都没告诉它

它错在哪里？也就是说：无权后悔

正在这时一把钳子夹住了子弹

把它拖到光亮的世界

一见到光亮，子弹就兴奋

兴奋地准备再次起飞

但接下来的是一次更深的跌落

当！子弹被丢进拉圾铁盘里

天啊，子弹知道了这就是它的命：

一生只飞一次！！

这时它突然明白

为什么有那么多子弹

不光荣、不骄傲、不击中目标

却把一生只飞一次的命运

变成了自由……

A bullet begins to fly.

Through a long and thin barrel with a loud bang,

The bullet roars along in horror.

It wants to stop, but immediately understands

It has no right to think and no right to stop,

Destined to be a bullet out of a barrel.

Then fly. You have to fly even you do not want to,

Then better not think.

No thinking is a good soldier to obey orders.

Obey orders, whose orders? Obey the fate.

The fate of a bullet is to fly for once!

Want to turn because there is a figure ahead?

Before the idea pops up,

The invisible power of flight makes the bullet

Become another term: hit the target,

Which makes the bullet glow with honor.

A bullet of glory and pride

Ends its fly gloriously and proudly:

It is entrapped between one rib and the subcutaneous fat.

Pressed against by pulsating blood vessels,

It experiences the power of a painful bite

And kind of regrets that it flies to a place not supposed to.

A bullet entrapped between the ribs has time to repent,

But all the time does not tell it

What wrong it has done. In other words: it has no right to regret.

Just then a pair of pliers catches the bullet,

And drags it to the light world.

The bullet gets excited at the sight of light,

And ready to take off again.

But what follows is a deeper fall.

Clank! The bullet is thrown into the litter tray.

Oh, God, the bullet knows this is its fate:

Only fly once in a lifetime!!

Then it suddenly understands

Why so many bullets,

Though they gain no glory, no pride, no target,

Yet they turn the fate of flying only once in the whole life

Into freedom.

每一块锈斑，都在痒

痒痒地提醒玻璃柜中的剑

曾经吹毛立断的风流

无数剔骨挑筋的淋沥

剑老了，剑退出江湖了

剑想忘记这一切

容易啊，只要一块磨刀石

亦可再次回炉，让铁锤击打

荣幸啊，此剑被册封一级文物

那些痒死人的锈斑

是剑被风雨佩带上的勋章

是剑不可磨灭的光荣

于是在众目睽睽之下

在透明的高贵的丝绒之上

那些发着绿光的锈斑

让剑永远地痒，痒死

也不可超度……

Every rust spot itches,

And reminds the sword in the glass cabinet

Of its past glory of cutting a hair like wind blow,

And countless complacence of slicing muscles and bones sharply.

The sword is old, and the sword retreats from the troubled world.

The sword wants to forget all.

It is easy. Just a grindstone.

Or return to the furnace and be struck by the hammer.

It is an honor that this sword has been awarded a first-class cultural relic.

Those itchy rust spots

Are badges with which wind and rain adorn the sword,

And are the indelible glory of the sword.

So under the eyes of all the visitors,

And on top of the transparent and noble velvet,

Those rusty green spots

Let the sword itch forever, itch to death,

Without salvation.

作者/叶延滨

  翻译/齐凤艳

叶延滨，作家诗人，迄今已出版个人文学专著52部，作品自１９８０年以来先后被收入了国内外500余种选集以及大学、中学课本。部分作品被译为英、法、俄、意、德、日、韩、罗马尼亚、波兰、马其顿文字。代表诗作《干妈》获中国作家协会优秀中青年诗人诗歌奖（1979年——1980年），诗集《二重奏》获中国作家协会第三届新诗集奖（1985年——1986年），其余诗歌、散文、杂文分别先后获四川文学奖、十月文学奖、青年文学奖等５0余种文学奖。