A Tribute to L. Cohen

Now Mom takes your hand 
and she leads you to the grassland 
She is wearing a hat and sneakers 
from teenie-weenie her favourite 
And the sun pours down like honey 
on our lady who loves winnie the pooh
And she shows you where to look 
among the garbage and the flowers 
There are kites in the sky
and daisies having grown since July
There are children in the morning 
They are running out for life 
and they will run that way forever 
While Mom holds the thread
and you want to fly away from her 
and you want to travel blind 
You know that you can trust her 
for she's touched your perfect body with her milk and blood

   by  Imyorphan Zen

Morning Hysteria

when I shouted to her
as a desperate father:
DON'T TOUCH IT!
My daughter pounted her lips
and burst into tears--
tears like falling raindrops,

My exploding voice scared her
fingers out of the little rosy plastic potty
she was sitting on and shitting

I dashed into the kitchen
and grabbed her hand
it was late--
her finger tips had already got it

Be your dady's good girl
Don't play with your poo
It's dirty and gross, my wife said
trying to talk sense
to her while preparing breakfast

I felt as if I had wronged her
as she was sobbing in her shaky body
she was only 11-month old
too young to tell
poo from toy

I shouldn't have shouted. I said
in an eased voice, and then
cleaned her and washed her hands
I gave the potty a glimpse--
her poo was innocent and healthy

I couldn't ask for more
after days of her indigestion

Scarborough Fair

The original Chinese is written by Scavenger, which can be read HERE. I don't think my translation does justice to his delicate and beautiful description of the sad story. I just couldn't help translating it into Engilsh.


Before I broke into pieces, I was in love with a girl.
I won't say silly words like each girl is different in her own sweet way,
for I had never known any other girl before her.
or rather, had never GENUINELY known any.
We have discussed this many times.
Even now, I can still feel in her young heart, deep down,
that my self is still there.
Her heart is warm.
Apart from that, I can't tell you more.

When dusk was falling, that girl would cook a wok of tasty Russian soup.
To do that, she would rise early in the morning and
climb over the mountains and valleys all the way to Scarborough Fair.
Her shoes and socks were soaked in dew
must have been uncomfortable, wasn't it?
But she still carried a delicate smile on her face and walked through the fair
picked out the suitable ingredients, whose names I couldn't tell,
nor their distinctive colours and scents.
But I stood by her quietly afterwards, listening to the things
she described to me one by one and that--
that black little cat hiding in the shop.
She asked me, with pushiness, to find
that kind of black little cat for her.

I pulled at her hair, and said "Don't worry."
Then I started on my cause to look for the cat she wanted.
I had no idea that I could have walked for so long.
News came from the other side that she dropped many tears
into the soup that had already become cold.
She sewed winter clothes in the hope of my return
but the needle pricked her fingers.
I also heard that they burried us in the mountain of Scarborough
because when we were in love we had dated
at the mountain foot in the early morning.
We quickly walked up to the top.
Her face was redened and she gasped
as she pinned a little flower onto my collar.

You probably don't know that we still meet in the morning
only we are never able to come down the mountain together
I have a messy memory but I remember in my descent
I've seen numerous cats, cats of all colours and ages
but never did I find a black little cat.

Trickitty Tracy

*A Poem for Jiang Xiaomao (Tracy)

I saw that cat sitting on the wall every morning
while I was carrying the crazy stone on my way to work

I broke down one day and threw it off my shoulder
I said hi to the cat and she greeted me with a Chesire grin

A trick? I thought, gaping
at the empty space which had been filled by a cat

"No, Trickitty"
A small voice broke into my ear

A trick-kitty?
Like an appiration, she was sitting on my right shoulder

"I'm Schrodinger's cat with ever-changing appearances
and an ever-lasting spirit"

What's your name? I asked
with my head turning to the right

But there was nothing, not even
a cat paw's mark left

A trickitty? I murmured
wondering whether it was me who'd been tricked

"No, Tracy" A small voice rose again
and climbed into my left ear

Tracy Cat? I turned my head to the left
trying to catch the source of the voice

A furry tail flashed in front of my eyes
before I could follow its trace

There she was, on the wall again stretching her legs and
arching her back as all cats do after a sweet nap

She squinted at me against the sun and
with a "Meow" she jumped off the wall

I looked down at the heavy stone, not knowing how to continue
the ever-lasting routine with an ever-changing heart

这颗星球上最高的男子

“你听听这个人的歌，应该会喜欢。”柏桑说，“叫地球上最高的男人（the tallest man on earth）,其实个子可小了，真的是个小个子，又瘦又小。”柏桑像捏着一粒芝麻那样并住两根手指，好像那人就捏在指间。
“哪个国家的？”我问。
“瑞典的。所以这名字取得很有意思吧。歌写得也有意思。”
不久柏桑去了Green Man艺术节，见到了这个“地球上最高的男人”，回来后又兴奋地提到了他。

那差不多是一年前的事了。去年9月离开英国的时候，我带着着行囊在开往机场的大巴里听着他的歌，听着他唱到“I plan to be forgotten when I'm gone. Yes, I'll be leaving in the fall.”立马就神伤了。你看， 好歌的出现总是需要天时、地利、人别。

还是一把吉他，加上出色的歌词。只靠这两样东西立足的人一般都活得很艰辛，Nick Drake, Leonard Cohen, Damien Rice，英国人不到30便抑郁而死；加拿大人命硬，但也直到74岁才被晚生Lou Reed引入摇滚名人堂，致辞时老头子仍不忘翻出陈年往事揶揄在场的美国乐评人John Landau；爱尔兰人也是在退出了唱片公司、怀着一颗破釜沉舟大不了在意大利做农民的心才大器晚成的。如果Bob Dylan不是身处那个越战、嬉皮士、民权运动风起云涌的年代，凭他的嗓音条件要成名还真不好说。高中刚脱离后街男孩、西城男孩、辣妹组合的那个阶段，我读到了那时流行的音乐杂志上介绍Bob Dylan的文章，心潮澎湃，于是跑到镇上唯一一个能买到40岁以上西方男歌手的CD店，找到了一张Dylan的大拼盘碟（当时盗版的惯常做法，即把一名歌手的歌曲尽可能多得塞到一张碟里）。回家后我怀着景仰、敬畏、期待的复杂心情，按下了CD机的播放键。一分钟后，我在一种听完恐怖故事的氛围里按下了停止键，并惊魂未定地告诉自己“他的嗓音不可能这样的，一定是盗版碟的原因。”直到进了大学再次听到Dylan，终于确信那个来回颠簸、四处漏风的声音就是他的真声。所以说，破嗓音的成名总是需要天时、地利以及John Baez.

这名“地球上最高的男子”叫Kristian Matsson，嗓音倒也没有Bob Dylan那样不堪，但是想从他的歌声里获得些愉悦也不容易。吸引我的，无非是漂亮的吉他和弦和别致的歌词（几首歌里还能听到他弹奏的banjo）。不知道为什么要给自己起这么个艺名，不过在Gardener这首歌里，他倒是唱了为什么要做“最高男”的原因——为了女人。这是一首很邪恶的歌，因为欢快的曲调之下歌唱者以第一人称讲述了一桩连环杀人案，叙述的场景丝毫不带血腥，相反让我们看到了阳光，闻到了花香、听到了爱情密语——但美丽的花圃之下却埋着三具尸体，凶手骗取了女主人公的芳心，并以一个胜利者的姿态向我们讲了这个故事。是不是很邪恶？

歌词将这个故事处理得很好，首段不露声色地出场、抱怨了一下自己变坏的头脑后，“凶手”以相同的结构讲述了三件命案的起因、结果和动机，很像三张同主题邮票并成的小型张。最后的结尾宣告了黑暗势力的胜利：死神出场，但没有黑斗篷、冷风、枯叶这些肃杀的意象，而代之以簇拥的鲜花和安宁的情绪，这样将恶与美放一起制造的诡吊效果在《香水：一个谋杀犯的故事》里有精彩的呈现；“不会再有青蛙吻你的手了”——坏蛋以这样自信的胜利口吻宣告，童话被终结。很邪恶，不是吗？

翻译歌词是一件吃力不讨好的事情，因为歌词本身的歌唱性（音节、韵脚都踩着音符走）几乎是不可译的。所幸这首歌的故事性比较强，换做Dylan的歌，虽然叙事性强，但光是对称的结构和连串尾韵一致的单词就让人断了翻译的念头。再说，干嘛要翻译歌呢？好歌就要听原文歌词。以后我再也不翻译歌了，下不为例。




园丁（Gardener）

我察觉到有人在花园里奔跑
不过你也知道，我的判断正在衰老
我曾在草坪上造过一艘蒸汽船
但我已忘了如何驾驶

我知道那个人会跑去告诉你
我的头发里并没有住着牛仔
因此他被埋在了雏菊旁
这样我可以继续是你眼中最高的人，宝贝

我察觉到有个探子伏在烟囱上
根据我烧掉的证据
我猜他会在烟雾里将毁证宣读
那样我就很快会化为灰烬

我知道那个探子会告诉你
旗杆上挂着的并非我的旗帜
因此他被埋在了水仙花旁
这样我就可以永永远远留在你的眼中，宝贝

我觉察到我的电话里有了漏隙
过去撒谎的经验告诉我
他已得到了你的私人号码
他很快会给你打一个恶毒的电话

我知道那个漏隙会告诉你
你的绳索并没有系着狗崽
因此，他成了滋养玫瑰的肥料
而我可以继续做你眼里的国王，宝贝

现在我俩在花园里跳舞
看啊，这花园多么美丽
死神养护着我的茉莉花
我得说我感到了内心的安宁

再也没必要疑神疑鬼
不会有什么青蛙吻你的手
而我要对你说的下面这话也不再是谎言：
我是个园丁，我就是你眼中的
男人，我的宝贝

the story is so meaningless and I don't know why I translated it

The following article and poem are translated by me, and edited by Robert Berold, from the original Chinese written by Wuqing (乌青, meaning Bruise, pseudonym of Zheng Gongyu), who quited college in his second year and led a normadic life since then. Wuqing published his own books and sells them online. He also made short films, which I haven't seen.


Smash slate on chest

It was a hot and stuffy afternoon, and I was feeling in low spirits. Even a cigarette wouldn't have made me feel good. So I walked over to the cold drink shop at the gate of our compound and bought a cup of cucumber juice. I wandered through the neighbourhood as I drank it. A girl was pushing her bike along in front of me. She had a nice ass. So I followed her for a while. I kept walking between the apartment blocks. Water was oozing out of the air conditioners. I spat and my spit was cucumber-green.

I felt bored and restless.  Then suddenly I was overcome by this strange desire.  I wished I had a board with nails on it. I wanted to lie on it, and then have a heavy piece of slate laid on my chest, so heavy that I wouldn't be able to breathe. Then a person with a hammer would come along and hit it onto me. Think of that! Wouldn't that be fun!

When something comes up, act on it – that’s what I believe. There was an old woman who collected garbage where I lived. I could get anything from her. So I said to her, I need a wooden board studded with nails, a heavy slab of slate and a huge hammer. But she couldn't understand Chinese. So I explained to her with gestures. I said, wooden board, board with nails, full of nails coming out of it; slate, big big piece of rock, and very heavy; hammer, huge hammer, to hit the rock.

Nothing would lift my spirits that night. So I went back to the cold drink shop and ordered another cucumber juice. I walked out of our compound as I drank it. I decided to fritter away the time in the supermarket nearby. There was a woman on the slow escalater. Her legs were huge. I came up with a kind of desire.
‘When something comes up, act on it’. So I walked up to her and said, Your legs are fat. She responded, It's none of your business! I had said the one thing I wanted to say, so I went away without a word.

I walked to the section selling sanitary pads, and my mind got carried away while I was standing there.  It's not that I was watching the stuff on the shelves, it’s just that I wanted to let my mind drift. After a while I noticed that a woman next to me was staring at me. Without saying anything, It forced a kiss on her for about 10 seconds. Then I spat out a gum and gave it back to her. It's yours, I said.

Back to my living area, I saw a stray cat. I wanted to catch it. ‘When something comes up, act on it’. So I dashed towards it, but it sprinted away without a trace. I shouted out loudly to the old woman, Where is my board with nails,  and the slate and the hammer?


*“想到了就要做”原本译成do it when something comes up，改成when something comes up, act on it之后，要切合得多。

Crying

I think crying is useless
mom cried
grandma cried, too
even papa's and grandpa's crying
didn't solve anything

when they were crying
they put everything aside
tears
blocked the whole world
not even God could stop them
from crying

学单车的大龄宅男你伤不起！

谨以本文献给即将离开校园的pia叔


我满以为骑单车泡妞的时代已经一去不复返了，直到pia叔告诉我，为了载一个女生，他在29岁的高龄决定学骑自行车。

其实在这样一个岁数决定对自己的人生重新洗牌的人不在少数，有人30岁决定做建筑师，有人40岁开始写歌，有人50岁丢开老婆、小孩徒步穿越中亚，前者如安藤忠雄，次者如罗思荣，第三者如20年后的我。但问题是，pia叔是为了一个女人——确切的说，是为了载女生在校园里兜风的一个承诺——决定学自行车的，这样大一新生头脑里才有的动机着实令我有些猝不及防，要知道pia叔已经研三了啊！

pia叔是一个本硕断断续续读了9年的老研究生。我第一次去见他的时候，他一个人在寝室里，四人间的寝室空着三张床。
“这个人是博士，一直跟导师在外地做项目。”pia叔指着其中一张床道。
“这个人有老婆，已经搬出去跟老婆住了。”pia叔指着另一张床说。
“这个人是富二代，每天泡妞、开房，而且是希尔顿。”pia叔指着一张下面有辆自行车的床说，左眼里写着嫉，右眼里写着妒，“我因公因私都没有住过希尔顿，这他妈天天开房希尔顿。”
发黑的蜘蛛网从寝室的天花板垂下来，纠成一团。
柜子上是一张关之琳的海报。
“是我贴的。”pia叔说，“我最喜欢的女明星，小时候常幻想她。”
“我懂的。”我说。
“你懂个屁啊，我那时就幻想和关姐姐一起上下学。”

后来我把希尔顿开房富二代的自行车拿出去在重庆大学的校园里骑了一圈，听pia叔说，车主为了跟寝室打赌能从重庆骑到成都，专门花了1600块钱买了辆车，用了3天时间随车队在成渝间骑了个来回，赌注是30块钱。

这件事对pia叔的影响有二：一，pia叔在那个赌中压了5块，并从中获利5块，这进一步刺激了pia叔买体育彩票的热情；二，pia叔因此爱上了自行车运动。

但去过重庆的朋友都知道，想在那个地形凸翘起伏的地方骑车无异于自虐，这就好比生活在水里的鱼突然决定到岸上走走，难度可想而知。当然我们知道世界上确实有这样一种会跳出水面到岸上行走的鱼，正因此，世界上也就有了pia叔这样的人。

pia叔是在QQ上告诉我这个决定的，这多少让这个决定显得不够酷，如果换做G-talk或是Skype，效果可能会好一些。其实我白天很少上QQ，更何况是在办公室，大家都忙着淘宝或是斗地主，但是因为上司要我给他的一个女同事传份文件，所以我就配合着对方用起了QQ。

我得交代一下办公室的状况，因为这对我之后的影响很大。我后面坐着一个不太年轻、但总喜欢把自己称为“小姑娘”的——怎么说呢，叫她王姐吧。王姐的一大爱好是时不时地欠过身看我在做什么，并附上简短的评论，“哎哟，小郑，你好厉害哦，英文的网站都看得懂。”“哎哟，小郑，你好用功啊，那么复杂的表格能看嘎久。”我的左边是一个瘦瘦的姑娘，在淘宝上买衣服的时候总是能坐出一副刚正不阿的样子，并会有一句没一句地接过王姐的短评，“那是，人家学历高啊。”“那是，人家年轻力壮啊。”我的左边是一个胖胖的姑娘，喜欢团购，每天吃过午饭都会在网上拍下两杯奶茶。我的前面是一个净水器。我们三人之间只有一块短短的塑料隔板，这不仅让我们看对方时无所不见，也让我们的关系很廉价。

好了，说了那么多办公室的姑娘，我得回到pia叔身上啦。当时pia叔在QQ上向我汇报了最近学骑自行车的动态：因为在拐弯、下大坡时没控制好车子，在毁了一个尾灯的同时，也把自己摔得浑身是伤。然后pia叔补了一句：“我浑身擦伤得都木法穿衣服，我现在裸体呢。”

当时我的大脑里立马浮现出了一丝不挂的pia叔坐在空荡荡的寝室里，咂吧着舌头在电脑上跟我打字。这让我始料未及，因为我是一直习惯于幻想女人裸体的，所以那一瞬间我对自己有些失望。

pia叔继续向我陈述他摔伤的各个部位以及断了的指甲，我以男性特有的方式安慰他，并建议他去豆瓣景涛咆哮组用排山倒海的“伤不起”让更多的人知道他的不幸。

也就是在那个时候，pia叔做了一件改变我整个下午的事情——他拍下了自己赤裸的腿、胳膊、小腹和胸，并截图在QQ对话框里发给了我，而王姐也就是那个时候欠过了身子来看我在做什么。“哎哟，小郑，你……”我当时的第一反应是——就像许多人在家看毛片父母突然闯进来时的反应一样——手忙脚乱地去关那个对话框。但是一切都晚了，王姐看到了那些在不仔细看的时候很像是毛片截图的东西，更糟糕的是，毛片里的主人公是个男的。

瘦姑娘转过脸，有些迷茫地看了一眼我和王姐，因为只听到了王姐半句话，她不知道该怎么接。我红着脸马上说了一句：“我在给客户传文件呢。”这句话事后经我的分析，效果无比糟糕，因为这在王姐听来是做贼心虚、欲盖弥彰。当时我还不如说“我在和一个要好的朋友聊天呢”。不过那在王姐听来，肯定会是恬不知耻之类的了。总之发生了那样的事，我是跳进黄河也洗不清了。在那之后，王姐整整一个下午都没有探过来瞧我在做什么。

更让我郁闷的是，我上完厕所回到办公室时看到王姐在和胖瘦二位姑娘窃窃私语，她们看见我进来马上做鸟兽散，各自回到座位上。更反常的是，胖姑娘一下子在团购网上买了8杯奶茶，像是在庆祝一件喜事，分发给了办公室里的每一个同事。

就这样，我在一种无比郁闷的心情和诡异的办公室氛围中度过了余下的一个下午。

下班时，我和王姐、胖瘦二位姑娘站在电梯口等电梯。我想说些什么，可脑中除了pia叔的裸体，愣是找不到可以开口的话题。进到电梯之后，王姐又和胖瘦二位姑娘耳语了几句，三人捂着嘴窃笑，并朝我看了看，这让我我又羞又臊，只感到血流一个劲地拍打着脑门。“你看到的不是裸照，那是我朋友！他在给我看他学自行车时摔伤的照片！”我差点把这句话喊出口，但在把脑门里的血流摒回去一点之后，我马上意识到这么解释下去只会越描越黑，因为一个男人给另一个男人看他受伤的肉体照，在我们这个小地方已经够骇人听闻了，再向她们解释一个男人在29岁的时候开始学骑自行车更像是天方夜谭。所以我就憋屈地看着她们窃笑私语，并和她们默默地对眼，直到走出电梯。

我觉得我在这个单位已经很难“直”着做男人了，就在几天前三番五次要给我介绍小姑娘的人力部主任，下班临走时也给了我一个意味深长的眼神。

但我一想到pia叔可以在一个礼拜后学满出山，载着姑娘在校园里上坡下坡、过弯道而不摔跤，单想想此情此景，我就觉得被办公室里的人误会又算得了什么呢？

pia叔真名陆续，来自四川泸州，因为从小被人唤作阿pia，岁月的流逝让他变成了现如今的pia叔。因为某种说不清道不明的巧合，我俩原来还同过一年校，只是那时候我不知道身边有个叫阿pia的人，阿pia也不认识那个忧郁的一心想着要退学的小郑。