A Patch of Falling Color
You must be aware over in Village 39
there is a patch of falling color.
You were once bent
on entering that patch of splendor determined to follow
the highway, through your village and out, leaving it behind
in the twilight.
In Village 39
by a large alkaline lake tufts and tufts of purple form a patch of twilight.
Fetching Water in Twilight
Gathering water in twilight
pouring well water into the kitchen jar.
In such quiet moments, I busy myself
trading emotions, converting money into things then turning things back into money.
Exhausted with my sweet words
I transact my emotions with the crowd:
“Go, go shopping!” test your money’s face value.
Is your life’s need fulfilled by that purchased reality?
Allow me to stand at the intersection of life,
however long watching the western sky’s glow darken.
The indigo sky dipped in orange-red
disturbed only by birds,
carrying the village peace away over my head.
A Touch of Purple
Lilac suffuses the Western sky connected with the horizon.
Powder blue ascends, its edge touching the purple border.
A band of lemon-yellow floats above them leading to the village
colors arrayed like a flock of geese on the wing.
A sliver of white
appears in the sky, a crescent moon on the rise.
The only movement is the beat of the wings of the birds in the incandescent red
honking to signal the arrival of autumn.
A few hunchbacks saunter toward the village
Threading their paths through grayish-black trunks of the forest.
The Wounds of Time
on board a shuttle
facing the wintry southwest mountains
through a moving window
the setting sun flies low.
Within the round, orange, calm remains of the day
Light cascades smoothly over the mountains.
Through the window are a few motes
float in raking beams
down on a girl’s cheek.
On such a wintry day
sunlit as spring, boundless twilight approaches
at the foot of the southwestern mountains
as I watch the descending sun
the wounds of time.
淡淡的云 悠悠的风 薄薄的暮色我在西天锄葵 离村三四里
幕归的羊儿移动着 一片声响不觉回眸 羊儿已远去5
5 此行引用宋代诗人辛弃疾 (1140-1207) 的著名诗作，《青玉案•元夕》，张联更换原词中“暮然回首”一句为“不觉回眸。”用自然生活中常用语“不觉”取代文言正式词语“暮然”；用修辞中的换喻手法以乡间土语“眸”（眼睛的意思）来代替“首”（头部）。
A Lip of Sky
Faint cloud, leisurely wind, thin twilight
I harvest sunflowers, a mile or more from home.
My sheep gambol home in twilight, creating a field of sound when all at once turning my gaze, I see my sheep already in
silence rings in the open.
A lip of sky forms on the horizon, a patch of red my wife and I pass by a mustard field
stirring a host of white moths, pollen flies. Over the field, tall weeds sway dancing6 the wintry moon brightly shining
faint cloud turning pinkish red
people busy with outdoor cooking children dozing while waiting and silence rings in the yard.
5 This line alludes to a famous Song dynasty poem by Xin Qiji (1140–1207), “To the Tune of A Green Jadeite Plate,” written on the first day of the Gregorian calendar. Zhang Lian uses the same sequence of the four-word line in the original Chinese, mu-ran hui-shou (All of a sudden turning my head) but applies a new expression, bu-jue hui-mu (When all at once turning my gaze), replacing mu-ran (suddenly). The latter is an example of high literary diction drawing on the Chinese classics, while bu-jue (with little notice or suddenly) is a common example of vernacular expression. The original shou (head) is replaced by mu (eyes), a clever application of synecdoche.
6 The poet subtly suggests, invoking an ancient aesthetic of feminine beauty, the farmer’s desire for a traditional lady with enticing bound feet, sashaying around unlike the woman next to him in the field. Yet, he cannot afford such luxury on the farm. It leaves to the readers imagination to comprehend the farmer’s longings and his helplessness at being a poor farmer while watching the young ladies in high heels on sophisticated TV shows.
本期翻译：刘克明 （ 美国）