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Par |2018-10-15T12:51:51+00:00 8 septembre 2013|Catégories : Blog|

 

After pas­tu­ring the sheep, he rushes to the noo­dle shop
in town. The female boss hands over an opium pipe
like a bam­boo chops­tick or a Western flute.
Instantly, a beam of mis­ty light suf­fuses— “Moonlight before my bed”,
like her double whi­te­ness, her moist warmth, her mer­cu­ry
his­sing through time, and ah ! that pair, that row of but­tons.
Her exo­tic coun­try fra­grance as sen­sual as the home­made.
"Li Po, Li Po!"  Her sweet sho­wers, things in flight,
cin­na­mon flo­wers on the hill’s bel­ly, from the low del­ta up, spilling.
“Double Double” is her nick­name, her moons eclipse him
in inti­ma­cy or war, com­for­table toge­ther as a pair of ban­dits
they go thou­sands of miles, from the heights of anxie­ty
sli­ding down to a string of bass notes. Afterwards they run away like refu­gees,
her face main­tai­ning an expres­sion like a nanny’s apo­lo­gy.
What actual­ly hap­pe­ned ? History flows like rhythms of amne­sia.

(Translated by Ming Di and Tony Barnstone)

 

 

李斯特

放完羊,他疾步赶到镇上的面馆。老板娘
递过来的烟具,仿佛竹筷,或西洋笛,
顷刻间,光雾弥漫于睡眼间 —  — 榻前明月光,
疑是炕头白晃晃,那温润,那水银
般的哗啦时光,啊一双,扣一排,
异乡的异香,流放于不逊色的仙境故乡,
“李白,李白!”高扬的季节,
坡地上的桂花,从低凹处向外,四散。
霜霜是她的乳名,与他胜负难分日食月蚀
亲密或战争,舒坦得像一对山贼,
欲穷千里从一个个焦虑的高度
滑下一串低音,事后像一个潜逃而去的难民,
脸上保持一种表情,犹如保姆的歉意。
历史善解人意,地点始终暧昧于抑扬之间。
 

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