父亲的村庄, 闭着眼睛想想就疼

庄稼地里长满苍耳, 荆棘和奶奶的泪水

盐碱蒙盖了种子，疲乏的羊群, 寻不到一点青草

记忆中只有抖动的篱墙

半扇柴门和弯弯的羊肠小道

 

古老的阳光

把村庄烤晒的干瘪枯瘦

荒野无际无涯

父亲以莫测无奈的视线估量荒野的长度

心也无际无涯

 

父亲的锄头，在日光与月光的沐洗下

釉上一层又一层希望的光芒

阳光每日堆叠在父亲的脊背上

我用尽一生的颜料

始终无法调出父亲褐红色的脊梁

 

多年了

我还是回来看你了

远远的看着，看着

不忍心推开那扇早已斑驳的门

生怕我一动，你就会浑身都疼

 

门前的果树跟我离开时候一样茂盛

而你，和我的父亲一样苍老

[Father’s Village]

Father's village, whenever I think about it my eyes start to hurt

The fields are covered by cockleburs, thorns and Grammy’s tears  

Saline and alkali mask the seeds; the tired sheep flocks can't find a sight of grass

What left in my memory were these shaking fences 

A half firewood door and a curved small trail

 

The sunlight from ancient time

Roasted the village into a dry and skinny shape

Wilderness is extended far beyond, with no boundaries

Father estimates the length of the wilderness with his
unpredictable and yet helpless sight

His heart also becomes so endless and boundless

 

Father's pickaxe, after bathing with lights from sun and moon

Were glazed with layer after layer of hope

Every day, sunshine piles up on his back

Attempting to use up all colors in my life 

I still cannot come up with something similar to burgundy red on my father's backbone   

 

Years passed

I still come back to see you  

Looking at you from afar 

I couldn’t allow myself to push the door that was already mottled

So much to fear that once I touch it, you will get hurt all over

 

The fruit tree at the front door is still as green and abundant as before

But you, my village, is as old as my father

 

我稀罕一江春水花正月

是伊没有出生之前的事了

那时候我相信地老天荒

相信生命的长度

长，能相伴山水

短，可以弹指一挥

半生光阴在诗里度过了

如今我更稀罕理解

 

女儿，有场冬风吹过

故乡的白雪

你可闻到

I was fascinated with everything symbolized love such as a flowing river and flowers in the months of spring 

Of course, that was long before you were born

I believed that love can last until the end of the world

Believed, it can last long, as long as the existence of mountain and water being together

Believed, it can be short, as short as a second of snapping your fingers

After spending a half of my life in poetry

Now I more appreciate someone who can really understand me

 

My daughter, there is a winter wind passing by

The white snow from your hometown

Could you smell it?