NOTHING TO DO WITH CROWS

First just one, then a flock
flapping their crooked wings
before me—darkness sweeping the sky.
I watch as if watching a play unfold, a drama of nature. 
A single crow is mystery, a flock of crows is fear.
Humans can't escape
the past, the consciousness—the crows
flying within me:  witchcraft, prophecy, forbidden awakening.
I sit, limited: I believe what I don't understand,
trust what I don't believe, like a country
built on mistaken foundations constructing a false enemy.
I miss the days of youth, the fence of language
not yet built—only imagining, remembering—
the black crows and white snow opposite but one,
a beauty, a paradox in paradise— to vanish
was to be eternal—I watch now, the crows become fiction,
flying outside me—they're not really there, circling in old silence;
they're not really there, dwelling high on the glassy roofs.

与乌鸦无关

与乌鸦无关

先是一只然后是一群在我眼前
扑楞楞飞起——黑色席卷天空。
我观望着，就像看一部戏
——自然之戏。我想说：一只乌鸦
是神秘，一群是恐惧——人越不出
历史之围；文化就是意识——那些在我心中
飞翔的乌鸦，是巫术是谶语，也是认识论的
禁地——而一个人的局限性是：他相信他不了解的，
信仰他不相信的——就像面对政治，我看见
根基错误的国家用怀疑主义造就了虚妄之敌
——现在，我想念逝去的童稚时代，
语言之樊蓠还没建立——我思想是幻想观看是记忆
——我记忆：乌鸦的黑与白雪的白是矛盾的统一体，
构成了一种大地之美——但消失
才是永恒——我如今观望，乌鸦成为虚构之物，
它们飞翔的地方不在现实中——它们
没有盘旋在寂静的旧日宫殿上空，
没有栖息在屋檐高高翘起的琉璃屋顶。