秋风里的柏拉图（组诗）

作者/郭淑萍

英译/银杏

（一）秋风里的柏拉图

风卷着落叶，狂舞中的醉蝶

布谷鸟过于安静，在枝头俯瞰一切

秋草生，香藕残

仿佛于一夜间，苔藓占据了大片的地盘

秋风里的柏拉图

一半嫣红，一半凋落

我曾用心捧起一粒红豆，在掌心

因它过于光滑，而指缝坠落

生命荒芜得像一场春天

不愿对桃花顾盼，不忍对梨花倾诉

一个人的剧场，空旷的人间

胜也寂寥，败也索然

不要用竹篮去打水，不要用镜像赌明天

不要等我，在蜜汁的陶罐里

（二）所有的落叶都是弃子

连绵的雨水捧起众多的黄叶

漩涡湍急，明暗不定

缥缈。梧桐叶落

像极了我在尘世的虚名

捡起过于干巴，放下于心不忍

一支笔，挥舞苍穹的长矛

上不及九重云霄，下不及阎罗殿堂

恍然。倾其一生的跋涉

不过是：与生俱来

篡改密码的颠簸，避之不及的命数

所有的星星都是旗子

所有的落叶都是弃子

我们一边奔跑，一边救赎着自己

（三）来过，或者没来过

绽放。并肩与对视

或粲然一笑，或听而不闻

来过，或者没来过

有的在春天已拼尽全力

有的兢兢业业，只为在秋天灵光一现

一束石榴花落于我怀中

吐着金色的花蕊，后又被风掠走

众多的花儿提起裙子，奔跑于尘世

我不忍一一说出它们的名字

秋风里，相互围观

在寒霜来临之前，除过直耿耿的秋菊

都得交出，最后的筹码

（四）请上苍赐我一壶酒

麻鸭成群，渭河又宽敞了几分

已好久不来这里

狼尾草红的惹眼，芦苇花白的圣洁

木质的筏子，在水里摇曳

一人，一舟，一鹅

远有岛屿，近有亭榭

风不知该从哪里吹，瞬息万变

紫薇花依旧明媚，老柳树吐出新枝

一株柽柳点燃红色的香裱

仿佛要向世界，撰写这一生的忏悔录

我于一丛红蓼前驻足

多年前，曾在这里诗意盎然

写下高山流水，横跨前世来生

唯独忘记：“在山泉水清，出山泉水浊”

请上苍赐我一壶酒吧，一醉万古贤

（五）薄霜，不足以摄我心魂

水面上有雾，轻轻袅袅

莲蓬打坐于时空，荷叶开始静思

有蒲团露出斑驳，有经脉更加清晰

有穿行的鱼儿，过客如归人

一行白鹭打破青色的云烟

几处高枝，是它们在尘世的安乐窝

铁甲虫来去穿梭，载着匆忙的两脚兽

它们不像蜗牛，深蔼《老子》之术

我有大梦未醒，在黎明前无法放飞

我似叶公好龙，不敢认领心声

兰天竹串起火红的相思豆

蓝莲花双手合十，闭口不提俗世

晨曦升起来，大地迷离

薄薄的一层霜，不足以摄我心魂

Plato in the Autumn Wind (Series of Poems) 

Author: Guo Shuping

English Translation/Yin Xing 

 (1) Plato in the Autumn Wind

 The wind blows the fallen leaves, and the drunken butterflies dance wildly 

The cuckoo is too quiet, overlooking everything from the branch above,

Autumn grass grows, fragrant lotus root remains

 As if overnight, moss took over a large area

 Plato in the autumn wind

 Half is bright red, half is withered

 I once picked up a red bean with my heart and placed it in my palm

 Because it is too smooth, it falls between fingers 

Life is as barren as a spring

 I don’t want to look forward to the peach blossoms,

 I can’t bear to talk to the pear blossoms 

A person's theater, an empty  spacious world

 Victory is lonely, defeat is boring 

Don't use a bamboo basket to fetch water, don't use a mirror to bet on tomorrow

 Don't wait for me, in the clay pot of honey 

(2) All Fallen Leaves Are Discarded Leaves

 The continuous rain lifts many yellow leaves 

The whirlpool is turbulent, light and dark are uncertain

 Misty and dimly discernible.

 Fallen sycamore leaves 

So much like my false fame in this world 

Picking it up is too dry, putting it down is too hard to bear

 A pen wields the spear of the sky 

It's not as high as the nine-fold sky, and it's not as low as the palace of Yama. 

All of a sudden .

A lifelong journey 

It’s just: innate 

The turmoil of tampering with passwords, the fate that cannot be avoided 

All stars are flags 

All fallen leaves are discarded 

As we run, we redeem ourselves

(3) Been Here or Not 

Bloom. Side by side and looking at each other

 Or smile brightly, or listen but not hear

 Been here or not

 Some have tried their best in the spring 

Some work hard with conscience just for the flash of inspiration in autumn

 A bouquet of pomegranate flowers fell into my arms

 The golden stamens spit out, and then were swept away by the wind

 Many flowers lift up their skirts and run through the world

 I can't bear to name them one by one 

In the autumn wind, we watch each other

 Before the frost comes,  except for the upright autumn chrysanthemum 

 You have to hand over everything, the last bargaining chip

(4) Please God Give Me a Pot of Wine 

There are flocks of shelducks, and the Wei River is a little wider

 Haven't been here for a long time

 The red of Pennisetum is eye-catching, the white of reed is holy

Wooden raft swaying in the water 

One person, one boat, one goose 

There are islands far away and pavilions nearby 

The wind doesn't know where to blow, it changes rapidly in the twinkling of an eye

The crape myrtle flowers are still bright, and the old willow trees are sprouting new branches.

 A tamarisk tree lights a red incense frame 

As if I want to write a confession of this life to the world

 I stopped in front of a clump of red polygonum 

Many years ago, it was full of poetry here 

Have written about mountains and rivers, spanning past and next lives 

Only forget: "The spring water in the mountain  is clear, but the spring water out of the mountain  is turbid"

 Please God give me a pot of wine, and I will be drunk with eternal wisdom 

(5) Thin Frost Is Not Enough to Capture My Heart and Soul

 There is fog on the water, curling gently upwards 

The seedpods of lotus  meditate in time and space, and the lotus leaves begin to think quietly 

Some cattails are mottled, some veins are clearer 

There are fish passing through, and passers-by are like returning guests.

 A row of egrets breaks through the blue clouds 

A few high branches are their comfortable home in the world 

Ironclad  beetles shuttle back and forth, carrying the hasty Twolegs

 They are not like snails, who are familiar with the art of "Laozi" 

I have a big dream that I haven’t woken up from, and I can’t let go before dawn 

I am like  Lord Ye who loves dragons but actually fears them, 

I dare not claim my inner voice 

Orchid bamboo skewers fiery red ormosia beans 

The blue lotus clasped its hands together and kept silent about the world.

The morning sun rises and the earth is misted

A thin layer of frost is not enough to capture my heart and soul