POETRY OF NONSENSE, #2

Your snow is not mine.  My snow is in the courtyard. 
In early morning I walk out, find snow on the ground
with my dog’s footprints—but not the way one draws
on a blank sheet of paper.  No, it’s a freehand landscape.
My dog draws without intention. Still I see mountains
and waters there—I see Mt. Emei and River Minjiang
with clouds hanging and a beautiful woman washing clothes.
You might say I’m far-fetched, and maybe I am.
I can go even further, be more far-fetched
and say I see philosophy in the snow, not Kant
or Kierkegaard but a philosophy of fleeting moments.
Have you experienced keeping your eyes focused on something,
only to see it disappear quietly? That is happening now.
I’ve stood on this porch for less than an hour,
half of the ground has surfaced—things are returning
to the original form. My snow is perhaps not snow,
but something to show me the meaning of loss.

胡诌诗之二

胡诌诗之二

你的雪不是我的雪，我的雪
在院子里。一大早，我推门
出去，看到铺在地上的雪已经被狗
踩出很多印痕——它因此不能被比喻
成一张白纸，倒像无意中由我家的狗
在雪上绘出的山水写意——
为什么是山水写意？原因是我看到了山，
也看到了水；而且山是峨嵋山，水是岷江水；
其中有云雾的缭绕，和浣纱的大美人。
也许，你要说我牵强附会。我的确牵强附会。
你知道吗？如果我再牵强附会一些，
我还要说在雪中看到了哲学；不是康德的
理性哲学，也不是克尔凯郭尔的存在哲学，
我看到的是转瞬即逝的哲学——你是否
有过这种经历：瞪大眼睛紧盯住一个东西看，
它却悄无声息地消失。现在情况就是这样：
我在门口的台阶上站了不到一个小时，
已有一半地面露出来——从哪里来，
又回到那里。我的雪也许根本不是雪，
只是要让我见到消失，和消失的本义。