Monday, July 5, 2021

Island by Huang Lihai, tr. Wang Ping

Island 

by Huang Lihai, tr. Wang Ping

 

We often bring up the no-man island

It’s a wedding bed burning in the sea

It doesn’t need to lie down to rest

Just as time has no need to live in a calendar

We also say, moist skin

Shows the visitor’s anxiety

The white mist in the woods fades away

We see the faint reflection of the old lighthouse

It’s a pillar of tears from the sea, standing at shore

Silent, gazing at the bird’s feet

Painting a map step by step on the beach

I believe the island is the echo of your calling

You can discard its spices and pearls again

Every life sings happily with you

Goutweeds are growing wildly

Whales are spraying one bubble after another

Shadows move, life still hanging on

Like coconut trees slanting to the sea, its hanging fruit

Shimmering in water, tiny waves looking exactly like shells

Nobody knows, the wind from the propeller

Spins with sand, birds, sails, and plants

They’re wild horses in another world

Their man flying, in the vast dusk light

 

岛屿

常提到无人居住的岛屿

它是大海光中燃的婚床

歇息不需要在床上

就好像月可以不在日

们还说起,湿的肌肤

耀着心神不安的来访

林里白色的已散去

倒影中的旧灯塔隐约

它是大海站在岸的一柱泪水

不再说话注海用小脚

一点点在沙画出的地

我确信岛屿是你召唤时的回声

那些香料和珍珠可以再一次

凡是有气息的都与你一起欣喜地歌唱

羊角叶肆意的生已揭开一角

鲸鱼向上的起另一个水的形体

阴翳移,未完的生命

如斜向海面的椰子浮的果

倒映到水里,小的波像极了

,没人知道,如之翼扇出的

与沙子、翅、帆,有植物一起旋

是自然放养在的野

它的毛,在黄昏的夕光里辽阔地疾

 

____________________________________

 

Wang Ping is a Chinese-American poet with over a dozen books to her name who lives in St. Paul, MN. See her webpage, WangPing.com.

 

See my reviews of her latest two poetry books at this post.

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