BIRTHPLACE

People always bring up my birthplace，
a cold Yunannese place with camellias and pines.
It taught me Tibetan, and I forgot.
It taught me a tenor; I have not yet sung
in that register, hidden somewhere, hard as pine nuts.
There are Muntjac in the summer
and fire pits in winter.
The locals hunt, harvest honey, plant buckwheat
because it’s hardy. Pyres are familiar to me:
we don’t pry in Death’s private affairs
or those of comets striking ruts in the earth.

They taught me certain arts
so that I might never use them.
I left them
so they would not leave me first.
They said that people should love like fire
so that ashes need not burst back to life.

出生地

出生地

人们总向我提起我的出生地
一个高寒的、山茶花和松林一样多的藏区
它教给我的藏语，我已经忘记
它教给我的高音，至今我还没有唱出
那音色，像坚实的松果一直埋在某处
夏天有麂子
冬天有火塘
当地人狩猎、采蜜、种植耐寒的苦荞
火葬，是我最熟悉的丧礼
我们不过问死神家里的事
也不过问星子落进深坳的事

他们教会我一些技艺，
是为了让我终生不去使用它们
我离开他们
是为了不让他们先离开我
他们还说，人应像火焰一样去爱
是为了灰烬不必复燃