Tung Wood and Timbre - Zhang Xiaoxue / 张晓雪

Zhang Xiaoxue / 张晓雪





Echo Wall

Such is this wall—
willing to listen with the heart.
Even the calls of ordinary folk
receive their answer.

A single resonant note
spreads over mountains, paths, and withered branches—
what witnesses can scarcely record,
heaven above already understands.

Introspection, promises, hardships endured,
a thread of love and resentment—all lie within its knowing.
It reveals everything, yet conceals all—

Those who repent in their hearts
are also returning through the vast white snow.
Those trying to reconcile—the protagonists
have already calmed the storms within.

On the boundless opposite side, all restraint
finds powerful expression.
This is the wall you fear—
the one closest to your true nature.

And the echoes that return to the human world—
whoever asks, they keep a discerning
distance from. Yet like something long awaited,
they are there in bewilderment, still unfinished…




回音壁

是这样的墙壁，
乐于用心灵倾听。
凡夫俗子发出的诉求
也得到了回应。

意味深长的一声，
弥漫山峦、小径、枯枝，
目击者难以记载的，
上天都理解了。

内省、承诺，吃过的苦、
一缕情仇，都是它认知的范围。
它公开了一切，又藏匿了
所有----

心里忏悔着的，
白茫茫的雪地里也在归来。
试着和解的，主人公
已平息了内心的风暴。

无边的对面，所有的克制有力地
表达出来了。
这是你所害怕的墙壁，
离本性最近。

而重返人间的回音，
谁发问，就与谁保持着辨别般的
疏离。又像久久期待的内容，
茫然在，其实未完成……



*



Tung Wood and Timbre

To break the silence,
tung wood gives itself to the pipa, the zither,
and the konghou—not for any ear's sake.

Through half a cycle of rebirth, notes glide
selflessly between the fingers—

Some timbres are detached,
speaking of the low places of the world. Some are blurred,
lingering before retreating, holding firm to climaxes without applause.

Those faint, barely-there notes
make the sky darken and narrow on the instant,
draining low murmurs of resentment and enmity.

I love this infinite resonance—
through its uprightness it casts itself forth,

its style yielding, its melody faintly bitter,
and because self and object are both forgotten, it keeps its stubborn
simplicity and indifference.




桐木与音色

为了打破沉默，
桐木把自己分给了琵琶、古筝
和箜篌。不为谁的耳朵，

半个轮回，忘我地滑动指间的
音符——

有的音色淡泊，
说的是人间低处。有的漶漫，
未及退去，坚持着无掌声的高潮。

若有若无的，
令天空即刻变暗、变窄，
疏通了低低的怨言与敌对。

我喜欢这无限的声息，
经由挺拔投身，

风格避让，曲调微苦，
因物我两忘，而保持着顽固的
单纯和不在意。



*



Under the Overpass

Before,
there were alder trees and plane trees here.
Now there is an overpass.

The birds, faithful to what was,
have traveled a long way,
fluttering and beating their wings
around the self-soothing giant pillars.

Their persistent flickering—
like a difficult question resting
on human nature and conscience—
swirls into my eyes, laced with collision.

Yet the sky is so still it blurs—
has it ceased to ask about the chaos below?
O sky, take care of yourself then,
and here, please withhold
your thunder and lightning.




立交桥下

之前，
这里是麻柳树和梧桐树，
现在是立交桥。

鸟雀笃信旧物，
走了很远的路，
朝着自我安慰的巨柱
恍荡、扑翅。

持久的闪动，
像落在人性、良知上的
一道难题，旋入我的眼中
夹着击撞。

而天空静得模糊，
已不问人间之混沌？
天空就此珍重呵，
此处，请你关闭惊雷
和闪电。



*



Stone Lion

The little lion offers itself to the smoke of human fires—
to the unmoving land, to the rings of years that spare nothing.

The great lion dazzles people with its wealth,
or sits above the high steps.

A power that fears nothing—
is it not merely poor axes and chisels fulfilling a rich stone?

Uncle De the stonemason, covered in dust,
lets out a weary sigh—is he unwilling to admit

that the uneven world the stone lion surveys
began, first of all, with his own arms and fingers
bending to the stone?




石 狮

小狮子献供人间烟火，
朝着不迁的土地、不惜的年轮。

大狮子炫人以富，
或者坐于高阶之上。

不害怕的力量
不过是穷刀斧成全了富石头。

石匠德叔满身灰尘，
疲惫的轻叹，是不是不愿承认

石狮子检视的世界，那些高低不平,
最早是从委身于自己的手臂和手指
开始的？



*



Starlight Is Here

Starlight is on the lake, and also in the sky.
It is in the Valley of the Kings, and also scattered
on fringes of hair, willow branches, and every bump and hollow.

Some people use it as they walk,
a glass heart lit by starlight all the way—
those are the protagonists. Some people cannot bear to use it—
the best stars—how much radiance
is enough to narrate their own lives?

As for me,
I still need someone I love to share it with.
As long as we are generously bathed in starlight,
that is our permit,
that is you and I, no longer separate.




星光在

星光在湖面，也在天上。
在帝王谷，也抛洒在刘海、
柳枝、沟沟坎坎上。

有人边走边用，
一路星光对应的玻璃心，
那叫主角。有人舍不得用，
最好的星星呵，多少光芒
才够叙述自己的生活？

而我，
尚需携一个爱的人一起使用。
只要被星光大大方方地照着，
就是发给了我们准许证，
就是我和你，不再分彼此了。



*



Snow Tune

Snow, half melted, half remaining.
What melts stays for the e-bikes picking up children—
their deep, steady rides kicking up beautiful splashes.

What remains is given to the children, heaping up
strangers and poems within their hearts. And snow—

will have nothing more. And we—
should be deeply grateful
for "owing nothing in return."




雪 调

雪，化一半，剩一半。
化的留给接孩子的电瓶车，
深沉的骑行造出漂亮的水花。

剩下的赠给孩子，堆积内心的
陌生人和诗。而雪，

什么都不会再有了。而我们，
应该为“什么也不用偿还”
充满感激。




***



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.


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。