Poem
Yang Lian
BUTTERFLY—BERLIN
The father’s grave sinks deeply into many more gravesCovered stone crushing like cloud
A great weight tamping down and surprisingly out from under it a thin wing
Leaping to find you when you were still comely
Slender captivated by the swaying flower fanning itself
In the park one organ burning another, a kiss
Slender captivated by the swaying flower fanning itself
In the park one organ burning another, a kiss
The obstruction of the air must be learned
The wall tightly pressing the colorful painted shoulder
The falling evening color sets off a little shining leap
When your heart suddenly feels this moment
This city holds tightly your ancestral origin, your fated ending
Old age has no words but only the choked-back moan
Then to know the thinner betrayal is the more extreme
One kind of force driving the golden yellow eyespot to grow
Pushing open the concrete waves floating above the world only by an inch
The sea butterfly doesn’t dream of migrating far from Terror
Flying Tamala and the father flickering
Carrying bodies lightly pat to sleep the next generation of exiles
The ashes’ contents have no horizon
You perch at the address where upon waking you shrug off the weight of home
The leaves’ dark green lampshade moves closer
When you don’t fear to be caught by a thread of fragrance
You yourself are becoming the fragrance delivering back the letter the dead left
Bearing its stamp of ocean waves: Berlin
You yourself are becoming the fragrance delivering back the letter the dead left
Bearing its stamp of ocean waves: Berlin
© Translation: 2013, Joshua Weiner and Yang Lian
VLINDER – BERLIJN
het graf van de vader onder zoveel gravenbedolven neergevallen stenen als wolken
onder het drukkende gewicht steekt onverwachts een tere vleugel uit
je op en neer springend vinden toen je nog knap was
en slank geboeid door het schommelende waaiertje van een bloem
een kus in het park een orgaan verzengt een ander orgaan
de weerstand van de lucht moet ook worden geleerd
de muur drukt hard op de kleurig geverfde schouders
de schemering valt in steekt af tegen het kleine stralende sprongetje
in het ogenblik dat je hart plotseling ontwaakt
grijpt een stad stevig de geboorteplaats van je zelfdoding vast
oud zijn heeft geen woorden alleen gekreun dat in de keel blijft steken
dan pas begrijpen dat het verzet hoe fragieler hoe extremer wordt
een kracht die een goudgele vlek voortbrengt
duwt de betonnen golven uiteen maar een duim hoger dan de wereld
zee vlinder zonder illusie om uit de terreur te migreren
vlieg Tamara en de vader kristalhelder
een lichaam hoog houden de volgende generatie ballingen in slaap kloppen
de inhoudsopgave van de as heeft geen verste punt
je strijkt neer op een adres waar je bij het ontwaken het gewicht afschudt
de lampenkap van donkergroen boomblad schuift dichterbij
wanneer je niet bang bent te worden gevangen door een geurflard
word je die geurflard brengt als dingen van de doden een brief terug
met het poststempel van zeegolven: Berlijn
© Vertaling: 2013, Silvia Marijnissen
蝴蝶——柏林
父亲的墓地 被更多墓地深深盖住 塌下来的石头像云
夯实的重量里一只薄翼意外析出
一跳一跳找到你 当你还英俊
细长 着迷于花朵摇荡的小扇子
公园中器官烫伤器官的吻
空气的阻力也得学
墙 死死按住彩绘的肩膀
暮色垂落 反衬小小明艳的一跃
当你的心惊觉这一瞬
一座城市已攥紧你绝命的籍贯
老 没有词 只有扼在咽喉下的呻吟
才懂得反叛越纤弱 越极端
一种长出金黄斑点的力
推开水泥波浪 只比世界高一寸
海蝴蝶 不奢望迁徙出恐怖
飞啊 塔玛拉和父亲 粼粼
扛着身体 轻拍下一代流亡者入眠
灰烬的目录没有最远处
你栖在醒来 就脱掉重量的住址上
树叶暗绿的灯罩挪近
当你 不怕被一缕香撅住
成为那缕香 遗物般递回一封信
打着海浪的邮戳：柏林
© 2013, Yang Lian
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Poems of Yang Lian
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BUTTERFLY—BERLIN
The father’s grave sinks deeply into many more gravesCovered stone crushing like cloud
A great weight tamping down and surprisingly out from under it a thin wing
Leaping to find you when you were still comely
Slender captivated by the swaying flower fanning itself
In the park one organ burning another, a kiss
Slender captivated by the swaying flower fanning itself
In the park one organ burning another, a kiss
The obstruction of the air must be learned
The wall tightly pressing the colorful painted shoulder
The falling evening color sets off a little shining leap
When your heart suddenly feels this moment
This city holds tightly your ancestral origin, your fated ending
Old age has no words but only the choked-back moan
Then to know the thinner betrayal is the more extreme
One kind of force driving the golden yellow eyespot to grow
Pushing open the concrete waves floating above the world only by an inch
The sea butterfly doesn’t dream of migrating far from Terror
Flying Tamala and the father flickering
Carrying bodies lightly pat to sleep the next generation of exiles
The ashes’ contents have no horizon
You perch at the address where upon waking you shrug off the weight of home
The leaves’ dark green lampshade moves closer
When you don’t fear to be caught by a thread of fragrance
You yourself are becoming the fragrance delivering back the letter the dead left
Bearing its stamp of ocean waves: Berlin
You yourself are becoming the fragrance delivering back the letter the dead left
Bearing its stamp of ocean waves: Berlin
© 2013, Joshua Weiner and Yang Lian
BUTTERFLY—BERLIN
The father’s grave sinks deeply into many more gravesCovered stone crushing like cloud
A great weight tamping down and surprisingly out from under it a thin wing
Leaping to find you when you were still comely
Slender captivated by the swaying flower fanning itself
In the park one organ burning another, a kiss
Slender captivated by the swaying flower fanning itself
In the park one organ burning another, a kiss
The obstruction of the air must be learned
The wall tightly pressing the colorful painted shoulder
The falling evening color sets off a little shining leap
When your heart suddenly feels this moment
This city holds tightly your ancestral origin, your fated ending
Old age has no words but only the choked-back moan
Then to know the thinner betrayal is the more extreme
One kind of force driving the golden yellow eyespot to grow
Pushing open the concrete waves floating above the world only by an inch
The sea butterfly doesn’t dream of migrating far from Terror
Flying Tamala and the father flickering
Carrying bodies lightly pat to sleep the next generation of exiles
The ashes’ contents have no horizon
You perch at the address where upon waking you shrug off the weight of home
The leaves’ dark green lampshade moves closer
When you don’t fear to be caught by a thread of fragrance
You yourself are becoming the fragrance delivering back the letter the dead left
Bearing its stamp of ocean waves: Berlin
You yourself are becoming the fragrance delivering back the letter the dead left
Bearing its stamp of ocean waves: Berlin
© 2013, Joshua Weiner and Yang Lian
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