Letter to the Tree Friends All over the World from an Osmanthus Tree - Adonis / 阿多尼斯

Adonis / 阿多尼斯




Letter to the Tree Friends All over the World from an Osmanthus Tree


1

You, a tree friend of the Arab countries!
I’m now reading a history vibrating your trunk,
a history of no head, but only one stomach and two feet.
The air over Arabia complains: there is no tree waving to its sisters,
no river valley conversing with the surrounding valleys,
no mountain peak bowing to greet its friends.
But, why are the gates that besiege you whispering in the wind?


2

I seem to hear a poet now muttering to himself, and now answernig his own question.
When shall I go and read the olive tree that shaded my childhood? He asked.
I shall light candles around the tree and hide it in the words of dream,
use pens, notebooks and books to fence the candles,
have a ball and invite the band of nature,
to salute all the dead and survivors who were dragged down the streets
by the aggressors during the century.
Ah, stars, please take the handkerchiefs of my hometown
to wipe away your flowing tears of blood!


3

One is climbing the wall of night in the hope of getting closer to the dim moon;
one puts words on his head, as if wearing a tortoise-shaped hap;
one shouts that the words are luminous spears guarding the sky;
one seems to be reading — but actually not.
One stood up and then sat down,
as if learning to drill holes in the air and amend the water.
A tree is questioning the air:
What on earth is the "Infinity" that can only be seen in the spattering sparks and dusts?
What on earth is the land that claims to be an immortal garden collecting cosmic
bacteria and garbage?
Ah, my sun, wouldn't you admit until death that the celestial bodies arranged to
revolve around you are ill and incurable?
Ah, my dawn, please pick up the truth at the feet of that girl!
Her feet are dancing in the shadow of an apple,
the apple is not that from the family led by Adam.
The sun of history is coughing blood, and even history says: blood is the alchemist's stone of reality.


4

Ah, trees in the distance, my secret friends!
I want to say hello to you and salute the fragrance flown from you.
But, please tell me:
Have the works written in Arabic ink become abscesses?
Has poetry itself become an incurable wound?
Have the mouths of writers become guns, and their heads helmets?
Are the mouths of politicians choked with silt, and has the society's mouth become a bubble?

Ah, my tree friends, far and near!
I know that the "Infinity" has broken off with you.
I know that dawn is an ever-burning child in your arms.
I know that what seeps out of night is your moaning, what flow in daytime are your
tears, and that
even your branches are begging for air and water.
All the trees are gathered around you with the lips seamed, and protest against the
fabrications that are engulfing the sky.

Today, are the cement forests really apologizing to he lighthouses, arches, rivers and bridges?
Are they really apologizing to the gardens, doors, windows and doorsteps?
When the future tries to sit on the knees of the sky to write to friends,
do the knees really tremble with fear, or
are even the words themselves also lost in panic?
They say, the future wrote in its letter, that
an American ant is devouring a Sumerian bull;
a wolf has been born into a rabbit-like artillery;
flies are imprisoning nightingales;
Arab Zero has replaced all the numbers
by some mysterious force.
In your fields and territories, can't life really survive
if not depending on the viscera of the deceased?
Is life really just a military uniform
made of endless carnage —
between numbers, things, people and worlds?
Are you really promised that
the milk flowing from the breasts of stars would nourish you?
Should I envy and congratulate you,
or should I mourn you for it?

(Translated by Zhou Wenbiao)





桂花树致全世界树友的一封信


1

你，阿拉伯国家的树友，
我正在阅读一段撼动你躯干的历史，
一段没有头脑、只有一只胃和两只脚的历史。
阿拉伯的空气诉说：没有一棵树向它的姐妹挥手，
河谷不和临近的河谷交谈，
山峰不会向朋友折腰致敬。
可是，为什么，那些将你围起的大门，却在风中窃窃私语？


2

我似乎听到一位诗人，时而自言自语，时而在跟他的语言对话。
他问道：何时，我去阅读为我童年遮阴的橄榄树？
我要在树的四周点起蜡烛，把它藏进梦的文字；
我要用笔、本子和图书为蜡烛搭建围挡，
我要张罗一场舞会，邀来大自然的乐队，
向这个被侵略者拖曳于街道的世纪里
所有的死者、生者致敬。
群星啊，请拿去这些我故乡的手帕，
擦拭你们流成鲜血的泪水！


3

有个人在攀援黑夜之墙，指望更加靠近阴柔的月亮；
有个人把文字置于头上，犹如戴上一只乌龟状的帽子；
有个人大声叫嚷，称文字是守护天空的发光投枪；
有个人似乎在阅读——却不是在阅读。
有个人站起、坐下，
似乎在学习如何在空气里钻洞，如何缝补水。
一棵树向空气发问：
这个只能在溅起的火星和尘土中看到自己的“无穷”，究竟是什么？
这块土地，声称自己是收纳宇宙细菌与垃圾的不朽之园，它到底是什么？
太阳啊，你难道至死不会承认，由你安排、围绕你旋转的天体，已经患病，
而且无法痊愈？
黎明啊，请你从那个女童的脚下捡拾真相，
她的双脚，正在一只苹果的影子下起舞，
那苹果，并非来自亚当领导的那个家族。
历史的太阳在咳血，连历史都说：血，是现实的炼金石。


4

远方的树啊，我的隐秘的朋友们！
我问候你们，还要向从你们身上飞逸的芬芳致敬。
可是，请告诉我：
用阿拉伯墨水写在纸上的作品，是否已变成脓疮？
诗歌本身也已成为无法愈合的伤口？
作家的嘴巴已成为枪口，脑袋已成为铁盔？
政客的嘴巴是泥沙，社会的嘴巴成了泡沫？

无论远近的树友们啊！
我知道“无穷”已经和你们中断了关系，
我知道黎明是一位在你们怀里永远燃烧的儿童，
我知道你们的夜晚渗出的是呻吟，白昼流淌着泪水，
就连你们的树枝，也在乞求空气和水分。
所有的树木都围聚在你们四周，
缝上嘴唇，抗议吞噬着天空的虚妄！

今天，水泥的森林是否真的在向灯塔、拱门、河流、桥梁致歉？
在向花园、门扇、窗牖、门槛致歉？
当未来试图在天际的膝盖坐下，以便给朋友写信，
这膝盖是否真的因恐惧而颤抖？
就连文字本身，也陷入恐慌？
据说，未来在信中写道：
一只美国蚂蚁在吞噬一头苏美尔的公牛，
一匹狼投生为一架呈兔子形状的火炮，
苍蝇在囚禁夜莺，
阿拉伯的零，借助于某种神秘之力，
替换了所有的数字。
在你们的田野和版图中，生命难道真的不能存活，
除非是寄生于死者的内脏？
生命是否真的只是一件军服，
缝制它的，是无止境的相互残杀——
在数字之间、事物之间、人与人之间、世界与世界之间？
你们，是否真的得到许诺，
从星辰的乳房流淌不绝的奶水将会滋润你们？
而我，应该为之羡慕和恭喜你们？
还是应该哀悼你们？




***




Ali Ahmad Said Esber, known to readers as Adonis, was born in a rural village in North Syria in 1930. He graduated with a degree in philosophy from Damascus University and went on to earn a doctoral degree in Arabic literature from St. Joseph University in Beirut.
Adonis has written more than fifty books of poetry, criticism, essays, and translation in his native Arabic. He is recognized as one of the most important poets and theorists of literature in the Arab world, and one of the most important contemporary poets and thinkers in any language or context. His influence on Arabic poetry can be compared with that of Pound or Eliot on poetry in English, combined, however, with a radical and secular critique of his society.
Adonis's many awards include the Nazim Hikmet Prize (Turkey), the National Poetry Prize (Lebanon), the Golden Wreath Award (Macedonia), Nonino Prize (Italy), Prix de Poésie Jean Malrieu Étranger (France), the Bjornson Prize (Norway), the Goethe Prize (German), PEN/ Nabokov Award (United States), the Golden Tibetan Antelope Award (China) and many others.
In 1997 the French government named Adonis Commandeur de l'Ordre des Arts et des Lettres.


阿多尼斯，原名阿里·艾哈迈德·赛义德·伊斯伯尔，1930 年出生于叙利亚北部农村。
毕业于大马士革大学哲学系，后在贝鲁特圣约瑟大学获文学博士。
阿多尼斯迄今共创作了五十余部作品，包括诗集、文学与文化评论、散文、译著等。
阿多尼斯不仅是当今阿拉伯世界最重要的诗人、思想家、文学理论家，也在世界诗坛享 有盛誉。评论家认为，阿多尼斯对阿拉伯诗歌的影响，可以同庞德或艾略特对于英语诗歌的影响相提并论。阿多尼斯对阿拉伯政治、社会与文化的深刻反思和激烈批判，也在阿拉伯文化界引发争议，并产生广泛影响。
阿多尼斯屡获各种国际文学大奖，如土耳其希克梅特文学奖、黎巴嫩国家诗歌奖、
马其顿金冠诗歌奖、意大利诺尼诺奖、法国让·马里奥外国文学奖、挪威比昂松奖、德国歌德文学奖、美国笔会/ 纳博科夫文学奖、中国金藏羚羊国际诗歌奖等等。1997 年，法国政府授予阿多尼斯文学艺术勋章。