Poem
Duo Duo
Still
Waking at night with snow on the forehead it’s stillthe same like walking on a piece of paper and it’s still
like walking into the field of invisible snow, and it’s still
like walking between words, wheat fields, walking
in the shoes on sale, walking to the words
The moment you can see where your home is, it’s like
still standing in the empty field, fixing your suit, still
bending your knees. The gold shields. It still is.
The world's most loud, the loudest
is, still, the earth
And the October light is passing though his legs when he’s mowing, it’s
like a golden corn field
with a burst of wild laughter, a burst
of firecrackers, a bright red pepper field, still, it’s
the golden that no arrangement can reproduce
the order of furious growth is a burst of October
which is persuasive, omnipresent, it’s
like the cold ox dung of September shoveled in the air, it’s
the stones in October walking to us, forming a team, it’s
November rain passes over a place without you, still, it’s
the seventy pears on the tree laughing their faces off
Your father is still the cough among your mother’s
laugher
The ox moves towards our disappearance, jotting
Still it’s a family sitting on the cart watching the snow
licked by a huge ox tongue
O warm, it's still warm
And in memory, snow increases the weight of remembrance
It’s what snow owes us. Snow falls to cover
the page that snow has turned over
turned over, but still is
And the winter field understands the cemeteries
four trees planted by four trees here
the old light opens the speaking, outside words’
cracking, but still it is
your father who saw your mother's death as the sky
and his own death as your mother's tombstone
your father’s bone is walking up these hills
and still is
the planet walks through this life
every piece of broken glass in the backyard talks
for the reason of not seeing us again, says
still, it is still
(1993)
© Translation: 2013, Ming Di & Katie Farris
依旧是
依旧是
走在额头飘雪的夜里而依旧是从一张白纸上走过而依旧是
走进那看不见的田野而依旧是
走在词间，麦田间，走在
减价的皮鞋间，走到词
望到家乡的时刻，而依旧是
站在麦田间整理西装，而依旧是
屈下黄金盾牌铸造的膝盖，而依旧是
这世上最响亮的，最响亮的
依旧是，依旧是大地
一道秋光从割草人腿间穿过时，它是
一片金黄的玉米地里有一阵狂笑声，是它
一阵鞭炮声透出鲜红的辣椒地，它依旧是
任何排列也不能再现它的金黄
它的秩序是秋日原野的一阵奋力生长
它有无处不在的说服力，它依旧是它
一阵九月的冷牛粪被铲向空中而依旧是
十月的石头走成了队伍而依旧是
十一月的雨经过一个没有了你的地点而依旧是
依旧是七十只梨子在树上笑歪了脸
你父亲依旧是你母亲
笑声中的一阵咳嗽声
牛头向着逝去的道路颠簸
而依旧是一家人坐在牛车上着雪
被一根巨大的牛舌舔到
温暖啊，依旧是温暖
是来自记忆的雪，增加了记忆的重量
是雪欠下的，这时雪来覆盖
是雪翻过了那一页
翻过了，而依旧是
冬日的麦地和墓地已经接在一起
四棵凄凉的树就种在这里
昔日的光源进了诉说，在话语以外崩裂
崩裂，而依旧是
你父亲用你母亲的死做他的天空
用他的死做你母亲的墓碑
你父亲的骨头从高高的山冈上走下
而依旧是
每一粒星星都在经历此生此世
埋在后园的每一块碎玻璃都在说话
为了一个不会再见的理由，说
依旧是，依旧是
1993
Poems
Poems of Duo Duo
Close
Still
Waking at night with snow on the forehead it’s stillthe same like walking on a piece of paper and it’s still
like walking into the field of invisible snow, and it’s still
like walking between words, wheat fields, walking
in the shoes on sale, walking to the words
The moment you can see where your home is, it’s like
still standing in the empty field, fixing your suit, still
bending your knees. The gold shields. It still is.
The world's most loud, the loudest
is, still, the earth
And the October light is passing though his legs when he’s mowing, it’s
like a golden corn field
with a burst of wild laughter, a burst
of firecrackers, a bright red pepper field, still, it’s
the golden that no arrangement can reproduce
the order of furious growth is a burst of October
which is persuasive, omnipresent, it’s
like the cold ox dung of September shoveled in the air, it’s
the stones in October walking to us, forming a team, it’s
November rain passes over a place without you, still, it’s
the seventy pears on the tree laughing their faces off
Your father is still the cough among your mother’s
laugher
The ox moves towards our disappearance, jotting
Still it’s a family sitting on the cart watching the snow
licked by a huge ox tongue
O warm, it's still warm
And in memory, snow increases the weight of remembrance
It’s what snow owes us. Snow falls to cover
the page that snow has turned over
turned over, but still is
And the winter field understands the cemeteries
four trees planted by four trees here
the old light opens the speaking, outside words’
cracking, but still it is
your father who saw your mother's death as the sky
and his own death as your mother's tombstone
your father’s bone is walking up these hills
and still is
the planet walks through this life
every piece of broken glass in the backyard talks
for the reason of not seeing us again, says
still, it is still
(1993)
© 2013, Ming Di & Katie Farris
Still
Waking at night with snow on the forehead it’s stillthe same like walking on a piece of paper and it’s still
like walking into the field of invisible snow, and it’s still
like walking between words, wheat fields, walking
in the shoes on sale, walking to the words
The moment you can see where your home is, it’s like
still standing in the empty field, fixing your suit, still
bending your knees. The gold shields. It still is.
The world's most loud, the loudest
is, still, the earth
And the October light is passing though his legs when he’s mowing, it’s
like a golden corn field
with a burst of wild laughter, a burst
of firecrackers, a bright red pepper field, still, it’s
the golden that no arrangement can reproduce
the order of furious growth is a burst of October
which is persuasive, omnipresent, it’s
like the cold ox dung of September shoveled in the air, it’s
the stones in October walking to us, forming a team, it’s
November rain passes over a place without you, still, it’s
the seventy pears on the tree laughing their faces off
Your father is still the cough among your mother’s
laugher
The ox moves towards our disappearance, jotting
Still it’s a family sitting on the cart watching the snow
licked by a huge ox tongue
O warm, it's still warm
And in memory, snow increases the weight of remembrance
It’s what snow owes us. Snow falls to cover
the page that snow has turned over
turned over, but still is
And the winter field understands the cemeteries
four trees planted by four trees here
the old light opens the speaking, outside words’
cracking, but still it is
your father who saw your mother's death as the sky
and his own death as your mother's tombstone
your father’s bone is walking up these hills
and still is
the planet walks through this life
every piece of broken glass in the backyard talks
for the reason of not seeing us again, says
still, it is still
(1993)
© 2013, Ming Di & Katie Farris
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