From SAILORS' HOME
3.岸 水波粼粼作曲 不远处一架死钢琴 在潮汐中响着 死水手精心修剪的五指 摇曳 满房间白珊瑚和康乃馨 满含最后一瞥的性感 一盏烛火透视 性交的肉体中一个岸透明的结构 我们彼此是锚 彼此是锚地 蓝色动荡的家 一块皮肤就是港口 我们嵌着的缺口 炫耀大海空出的方向 死船长冷冰冰指挥一场演奏 音乐会就夹在我们大腿间 那流淌 一股血味儿 血淋淋挥舞器官的旗语 那茎指着说 没别的地方 你能去 你该去 墙上的死镜框里 一头蒙着蓝色条纹的兽慢慢逡巡 岸 记住最后一瞥 那一瞥无终无始 4.“水手之家” 一行字刻在墙上 不停出海的字 把孩子们变老了 不停疯长的蓝色花草 听小小的白眼珠在防波堤上哭泣 父亲的精液是一个异国 被一道 盛满明媚早晨的裂缝隔开 母亲 躲进海鸥茫然的啼叫 分别就再次分娩 把这团血肉遗下来 又一排小小的白浪头把远方打得更远 孩子们否认海那边有个世界 不停构思着 把阳光变黑的血缘 把岸变得狂暴 把被抛弃当作一件作品 那时间表上永不到来的时间 永远卡在 即将挤出血腥隘口的一瞬 母亲哭嚎 父亲肿胀的阴囊低垂 如星座 蠕动 孩子否认不了的命运 5.午睡的海图 光在窗外倾泄 漂过床头的白色水母 累了 半透明的室内象只半闭的眼帘 鱼类五彩的尾巴围着蜡烛 她睡在就象死在海底卵石间 死了 还梦见一丛被摆布的黑色海草 肉体那么无知 肉体持续下潜 丝丝痒的脚趾 触到嘴唇软软的珊瑚礁 化了 舌头追赶一阵脚踝上的麻 嘶嘶向里窜 一封拍往全身的电报 海香喷喷捻着一朵空间的茶花 开了 魔鬼揉弄酷似蚌肉的一小只 比她还象动物 越抽搐越湿滑 亮晶晶挣脱妄想捏拢的手指 逃了 镜子张望中 镜子还在画出 颓废的宋朝的鹤侧着身子 7.水晶宫 时代的丑陋鱼群隔着窗户一片死寂 它们的目光 扎穿石棺里那些年 翻找一枚红艳的被磨烂的阴蒂 死死纠缠的躯体上 两个极端 都插着 舌头与茎都涨成一大块水晶 塞得更满时 顶到藏得更深的终点 死死纠缠的躯体 不再回顾才透明 死过上千次的大海的卵巢 猛吸一口血 不在乎失去才怕人的硬 找到你 封存的初夜象一张初稿 黑暗象一座窗台 又摆出那盆绣球花 只让我看见 你的美已准备好 崩溃 交配的星空停进第一场大爆炸 一大团喷出的雪白没有过去 石头里走投无路的水 才抵达 8.复数 这个现在的复数 蓝的复数 水手漂白的身影漂浮在每道波峰上 折射成无从等待的 溺死是复数 仍自一块棱形切下水平线的 是光 仍一再改写住址的 是总嚷着还要的海 又一具射精后的尸骸被啐到石凳上 空得象海哩 绿色家俱摆满悬崖 满是时差的房间睁开有对羊眼的早晨 谁沦为无从等待的 自己不得不等待 一把水手片片削落果肉的利刃 一次都不在 却被咀嚼了无数次 一个我都不剩 才毁灭成我们 粉碎 定居在狠狠砸下的涛声里 甚至停止不了渴望一个孤独腐烂的单数 守着 摔在远方礁石上的名字 |
Shore the waves’ crystal composing dead piano at an interval in the sounding of the tides fingers carefully trimmed by dead water swaying a room full of carnations and white coral mouth full of the last moment of sex candle flame’s x-ray visage shore a transparent structure in the flesh of lovemaking we are both anchor we are both anchorage shaky blue house skin is the harbour the crack we inlay direction where the dazzling ocean empties the dead captain icily orders the overture the concert is squeezed between our thighs the flow a whiff of blood semaphor that waves bloody organs the root says as it points no other place to go you can go you should go in the dead mirror-frame on the panelling the beast that covers over blue clauses slowly withdraws shore remember the last moment moment with no end or beginning Sailors' Home line of words carved on the wall words endlessly sailing making children old endlessly overgrown blue plants on the breakwaters hear white eyeballs weeping father’s semen is a foreign land separated by the crack filled with radiant sunlight mother hides in the seagull’s blank cry once more separation gives birth hands down this piece of vellum another row of little waves beating far into farther children deny that sea there has its own realm endlessly plotting sunshine-blackening ancestry maddening the shore forsaking is all its work the time that never comes is in the directory never blocked the instant that will squeeze through the bloody chimney mother wails swollen dropped scrotum hangs down like a constellation wriggling children’s undeniable destiny Chart of a Siesta light floods out beyond the window white jellyfish floating by the valance tired semi-transparent interior like a half-closed eye around the candle multi-coloured fish tails dance she sleeps among sea floor pebbles that are apparently dying dead still dreaming a thicket of nicely-arranged sea weed body so ignorant body just goes on diving toe’s tiny itches a soft coral reef of lips collide transformed tongues chase anaesthesia on the ankles a telegram that slaps at the whole body fizzing flees inside sea odoriferously twists a camellia of chasms opened demon rubs at a small clam-like animal more like than her the more it skids, the more it spasms glistening fingers shake off the pinch of hope that’s vain escaped in the mirror’s distant gaze mirror still painting lying on its side a decadent Song dynasty crane Crystal Palace a window separates from deathly stillness the ugly shoals of this time that vision stabbing through the years in the stone sarcophagus rummaging for a bright red clitoris rubbed into slime on tightly tangled bodies a double extreme both inserted tongue and root swollen into one huge crystal when stuffed even fuller it butts against the more deeply hidden demesne tightly tangled bodies only transparent if they never look back again nest of the ocean that thousands of times has died violently exhales a mouthful of blood only scarily hard if it lives with losing finding you sealed first night like what was first drafted darkness like a windowsill displays again a pot of hydrangeas only let me see your beauty all ready crafted collapse starry sky of sex stopping in the first big bang big ball of spat-out snow white has no past water helplessly locked in stone has only now come along Plural the plural of now plural is blue bleached shadows of sailors floating on the crests of the sea ways refracted into what can’t be awaited drowning is plural too what still cuts the horizon from the spindle is radiance what still endlessly re-writes addresses is the yelling needy sea another post-coital skeleton spat out on a stone bench so empty it’s like the sea green furniture set out across the precipice all over is the jetlag room that opens the sheep eyes of morning who sinks for what can’t be awaited self can’t not wait for this sharp blade for sailors to peel off fruit flesh in slices once nothing is present though chewed times without number not an I is left before being destroyed to become us shatter domiciled in the heartless pounding surf can’t even stop longing for a lonely rotting singular keeping a name flung on the distant reef |
Yang Lian
Translation by Brian Holton
Translation by Brian Holton