
绿
我从北方回来,夜已经很深
我进屋后返身关门
发现了台阶下的树叶
这是从被台风刮倒的
法国梧桐上掉下的
树的躯干已被拖走
我好像看见一摊血
淤积在石板地上
我记得双亲大人喜欢
在树下乘凉,稍歇
谈论他们的孙子
我甚至记得他们
费劲吐出褐色瓜子的情景
那是在去年夏天
今年夏天,我不知道
今年夏天他们将怎样度过
1988,杭州
Green
Blood
Coming back from the north in deep night
I enter my home, turn, closing the door
find on the steps sycamore leaves
left by the typhoon
limbs and trunk already dragged off.
I thought I saw pools of blood
coagulated on the ground.
I remember my parents kept cool
under this tree as they talked
of their grandson, remember
the scene, even remember them
spitting black seeds as they sat.
That was last summer.
This summer, I do not know,
this summer, how they will spend their time.
Hangzhou 1988
translated by John Rosenwald

