That’s Me in That Vine Chair by Gao Jiangang, tr. Wang Ping

That’s Me in That Vine Chair 

 

by Gao Jiangang, tr. Wang Ping

 

Winter scrawls crazy choreography on the window

A blue color on the plate

It’s ocean on the red-tiled roof

Oil barges take so long to sail by

Someone has been standing there, it’s a street light

Keeping the garden path quiet

A stone falls, that’s a sparrow

Then a school of cries drop

They’re the last leaves on trees

One of them stops on the window, but it’s just a lock

Keeping winter out

There’s a white shirt, oh, it’s a radiator

Pretending it’s another spring

There’s a face, oh a crystal clock

Running on imagined time

There’s a cloud, it’s steam from coffee

Reminding me of the fragrance in rain forests

There’s a glass of red wine, but it’s just burgundy floor

Brewing dawn between screen and table top

There’s a statue, that’s me in the vine chair

Trying to wake myself up

 

那是藤椅中的我

高建刚

冬天树枝的狂草写满窗户

一块调色盘上的蓝色

在红瓦顶之间，那是海

油轮很长时间才能通过

有人长久伫立，那是路灯

保持花园小径的沉默

一块石头落下，那是麻雀

接着落下一群叫声

它们是树木唯一的叶儿

有一只停在窗上，那是塑钢窗锁扣

紧紧别住冬天

有件白衬衫，那是暖气片

正虚构另外的春天

有张脸，那是石英钟

记录着虚假时间

有片云，那是咖啡杯口的蒸气

让我想起热带雨林的木香

有杯红葡萄酒，那是暗红色地板

在显示屏和桌面之间演化着黎明

有件雕塑，那是藤椅中的我

正在试着把自己摇醒

 

____________________________

 

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.