Poem
Duo Duo
Living together
They’ll meet the three intents of lifearound the corner: embers from an old men’s pipe,
children's graffiti on the wall,
and a woman’s wet leg in the rain.
They wander around, a whole night,
near the small white house, for signs.
The sun rises, a place to stay is still not settled.
From this point on things start to go wrong.
Without praying they cuddle in bed.
They pay no attention to the light that brutally breaks in
later on and fall asleep with a hearty smile
as if dead.
They get up and leave—not even bother to recall
the tender moments—they walk through streets
and enter a building with no marks—
disappearing in there—
in the same way
his mother predicted before she died.
In fact they have every intention
to look for the moment
that intersperses with memories of the past.
From time to time
they carry on conversations in code,
as on a snow day
walking back from the fog with a gentle pace,
in the same mood as peeling an orange for a patient.
The flowers from that greenhouse
must have left them, through the purple fog,
a memorable impression.
They start to cheer up
and blaze.
Let it be. Let them
stay unconscious briefly.
—Go
whisper a beat
but do not stir them.
Do not let the window of where they live together
go dim.
Do not let them lose
the strength to overlook the impressionistic wilderness.
When they walk to the street center at dawn
they see life. Life
is the cleaning man in blue overalls
who stops working
to watch them approach. A pipe in his mouth,
he stands in the morning—
1976
同居
同居
他们将在街头同人生的三个意向相遇：老人烟斗的余火、儿童涂写在墙上的笔迹
和湿漉漉的雨中行走的女人的小腿
他们徘徊了一整夜
围绕小白房子寻找标记
太阳升起来了，归宿仍不能断决
错误就从这时发生
没有经过祈祷
他们就会睡到一张床上
并且毫不顾忌室外光线
在晚些时候的残酷照射
因而能够带着动人的笑容睡去
像故去一样
竟然连再温柔的事情
也懒得回忆
就起身穿行街道
一直走进那
毫无标记的楼房大门
他们因此而消失
同母亲！临终前
预言过的一模一样
其实在他们内心
时时都在寻找
穿插那段往事的机会
时时都在用暗语交谈
就像雪天
用轻柔的步子从雾里归来
剥喂病人桔子时的心情一样
那花房的花
透过紫红的霜雾
肯定给他们留下难忘的印象
让他们的情调
就此炽烈起来
那就让他们
再短暂地昏迷一下吧
——去
给他们一个拍节
但不要给他们以觉察
不要让他们同居的窗口
因此变得昏暗
不要让他们因此失去
眺望原野的印象力量
当他们向黎明的街心走去
他们看到了生活。生活
就是那个停住劳动
看着他们走近的清道夫
他穿着蓝色的工作服
还叨着一只烟斗，站在早晨——
1976
Poems
Poems of Duo Duo
Close
Living together
They’ll meet the three intents of lifearound the corner: embers from an old men’s pipe,
children's graffiti on the wall,
and a woman’s wet leg in the rain.
They wander around, a whole night,
near the small white house, for signs.
The sun rises, a place to stay is still not settled.
From this point on things start to go wrong.
Without praying they cuddle in bed.
They pay no attention to the light that brutally breaks in
later on and fall asleep with a hearty smile
as if dead.
They get up and leave—not even bother to recall
the tender moments—they walk through streets
and enter a building with no marks—
disappearing in there—
in the same way
his mother predicted before she died.
In fact they have every intention
to look for the moment
that intersperses with memories of the past.
From time to time
they carry on conversations in code,
as on a snow day
walking back from the fog with a gentle pace,
in the same mood as peeling an orange for a patient.
The flowers from that greenhouse
must have left them, through the purple fog,
a memorable impression.
They start to cheer up
and blaze.
Let it be. Let them
stay unconscious briefly.
—Go
whisper a beat
but do not stir them.
Do not let the window of where they live together
go dim.
Do not let them lose
the strength to overlook the impressionistic wilderness.
When they walk to the street center at dawn
they see life. Life
is the cleaning man in blue overalls
who stops working
to watch them approach. A pipe in his mouth,
he stands in the morning—
1976
Living together
They’ll meet the three intents of lifearound the corner: embers from an old men’s pipe,
children's graffiti on the wall,
and a woman’s wet leg in the rain.
They wander around, a whole night,
near the small white house, for signs.
The sun rises, a place to stay is still not settled.
From this point on things start to go wrong.
Without praying they cuddle in bed.
They pay no attention to the light that brutally breaks in
later on and fall asleep with a hearty smile
as if dead.
They get up and leave—not even bother to recall
the tender moments—they walk through streets
and enter a building with no marks—
disappearing in there—
in the same way
his mother predicted before she died.
In fact they have every intention
to look for the moment
that intersperses with memories of the past.
From time to time
they carry on conversations in code,
as on a snow day
walking back from the fog with a gentle pace,
in the same mood as peeling an orange for a patient.
The flowers from that greenhouse
must have left them, through the purple fog,
a memorable impression.
They start to cheer up
and blaze.
Let it be. Let them
stay unconscious briefly.
—Go
whisper a beat
but do not stir them.
Do not let the window of where they live together
go dim.
Do not let them lose
the strength to overlook the impressionistic wilderness.
When they walk to the street center at dawn
they see life. Life
is the cleaning man in blue overalls
who stops working
to watch them approach. A pipe in his mouth,
he stands in the morning—
1976
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