Butterfly Trembling - Zhang Xiaoxue / 张晓雪

Zhang Xiaoxue / 张晓雪




Inscription on a Rough Stone

I will not be a lion—no river valleys,
no boulders, no torrential perils embedded in my ribs.

Nor would I be a Buddha statue.
Compared with gazing back at a recluse, growing ever more still,
I am more urgently drawn
to cloud shadows, wildflowers, and mountain-stream water.

When the long river and setting sun heap the sloping hills with gold,
better to be a useless stone, comfortable in itself.

Let every mind use it as it will—
for sharpening wit, for weary idleness,
for dissolving time, yet remaining ever new through the years.

Let the north wind come in gusts and sway me.
My eternal look makes the mundane world feel narrow;
my look that exhausts life and death stirs neither life nor death.

And the unease in my heart—so empty—
even when closest to you, fears no striking.

Better to be a useless stone,
as if leaving the pain and the chisel marks to you
—the jade-carver—

as if, when your heart and hand are one, you simply
open your breast and, with extra grace, honor
the longing of a rough stone.




璞石记

不做狮子。因为没有河谷、
巨石、激流之险嵌进肋骨。

也不想做一尊佛像。
比起与遁世者对望，愈加的寂然，
我更迫切于
接近云影、野花和山涧泉溪。

当长河落日堆满斜阳坡，
还是做无用的石头舒服些吧。

允许所有的内心用其所用---
可益智、可倦怠，
可消融时间，经年如新。

允许北风阵阵吹来，吹动我。
永恒的样子令世俗窄小，
穷生死的样子，并不触动生死。

而心头的不安，那么虚无，
离你最近时，也不怕敲打了。

还是做一块无用的石头吧，
如同把疼痛和刀痕留给了你
——琢玉人，

如同你心手合一时，索性
敞开了胸襟，额外地尊重起
一块璞石的渴求。


*


Butterfly Trembling

When turned by the wind,
she is two exceptionally fluttering pages.

When turned by the wind,
what belongs to the wind, the wind has taken away.
After the wind leaves, her lifelike pause in the sunlight
she gives to a lonely little girl.

After the wind leaves, she pins herself to a flower—
mimicking, leaving traces, coming and going in turns.
A tight knot is loosened by the fragrance,
as if nothing had ever happened.

As if one page leads another,
moving a few times, stilling a few times.
Hesitantly alighting,
she makes the onlooker tremble along with her.




蝴蝶颤动

被风翻动时，
她是特别凌乱的两页。

被风翻动时，
归风的，风已收走。
风走后，她将日光里栩栩的停留，
赠给了一个孤独的小女孩。

风走后，她把自己别在花朵上，
仿真，留痕，交相来去。
一个死结被芳香解开了，
像什么都不曾发生过。

像一页领着另一页，
动了几次，静了几次。
将信将疑地栖息，
令旁观的人,跟着颤动。


*


Mother and Sand

You puff out your cheeks
and blow the sand from my eyes.

Cherry-blossom dew wells up,
and you squint with a smile.

As if a mote of dust were forgiven,
as if my childhood mouth
had once blown for you.

But, Mother,
so many years have passed,
and I never did blow for you.

I suspect your eyes
have never had sand in them—

or else, behind your eyes,
sensitivity to sand
is not stored. A strange assumption—

I dare not ask—
how, through all those long days and years,
did you heal without a wind?




母亲和沙子

你鼓起腮帮
吹出了我眼中的沙子。

樱花清露涌出来了，
你也眯眼笑起来。

像微尘获得了谅解，
也像我童年的嘴为你
吹了一回。

可是，妈妈，
多少年过去了，
我并没有为你吹过。

我怀疑你眼里
从未进过沙子，

或者在眼睛后面，
对沙子的敏感
不储存。奇异的假设，

我不敢问——
你是怎样天长日久，
无风而愈的？



*


Falling Into

Falling into the hands of a good carpenter,
pine becomes waterside pavilions, curved bridges, railings, and cool kiosks—
where immortals love to walk, and clouds love to drift.

What is seen—the intentions align, and also diverge,
each beautiful in its own way.

Falling into the pages of a good book,
pine becomes stools, screens, and small attics—
their secrets and their life stories—

as days of solitude and clamor pass one by one,
so much time has been wasted. So much time
is yet to be wasted.

When pine falls into the firebox, into the bellows and the axe,
its former uprightness opens up the human world and human hearts.
It sustains its refinement among the ashes,
and the right to remain unforgotten.




落 入

落入好木匠的手中，
松木是水榭、曲桥、轩槛和凉亭，
神仙爱走这儿，云彩也爱走。

被看见的，用意相符，亦相背，
各美其美。

落入好书的情节，
松木是凳子、屏风和小阁楼，
是它们的秘密和身世——

是孤独与喧哗一天天过去了，
许多时光已辜负。许多时光
待辜负。

当松木落入灶膛，落向风箱和刀斧，
前世的挺拔，启开了人间、人心。
维持着灰烬中的修炼、
和不被记住的权力。


*


Only One Cup

To set themselves against the human world,
some green mountains, streams, and grains
have given themselves to wine.

And you—how you need a moment of imbalance:
only one cup, and heaven and earth begin to sway—
that is the true essence of soft wind on the hillside and different fruits.

Only one cup,
and that sudden need for a sense of falling deep
is part of their thinness or vastness,
known only to bees and wild grasses.

Like landscape taking form, with wine as its answer—letting you
drift into thinking less, yet not too little,
just enough to let the unsolvable remain unsolvable,
and let the sharp return to the supreme blunt.




只饮一盅

为了违和人世，
一些苍山、溪水和五谷杂粮
把自己分给了酒。

而你，多么需要某一刻的失衡，
只饮一盅，天地就摇晃起来，
那是半坡软风和不同果实的真意。

只饮一盅，
你突然需要的深陷之感，
是它们单薄或辽阔的一部分，
仅限于蜜蜂和野草的辨识度。

多像山水赋形，酒作答。让你
恍恍然想得少，但是也不少，
足以使无解的继续无解，
使尖锐的回归无上的钝。



***




Zhang Xiaoxue, poet and essayist, has authored a few of poetry and essay collections. Her poems, essays and reviews, numbering in the hundreds, have been published in renowned literary journals such as People’s Literature, October, Zhongshan and Flower City. She has received several prestigious awards, including October Poetry Award，Zhongshan Literary Award and Yangtze River Poetics Award. Currently she serves as member of Chinese Writers Association Presidium, Vice Chairman of Henan Writers Association and Director of Henan Academy of Literature.


简历：张晓雪，诗人、散文家。著有诗集、评论集多部。曾在《人民文学》《十月》《钟山》《花城》等杂志发表诗歌、随笔、评论数百首（篇）。获《十月》诗歌奖、《钟山》文学奖、《扬子江》诗学奖等若干奖项。现任中国作协全委会委员、河南省作家协会副主席、河南省文学院院长。