Talk about water is talk about gentleness,

說水，就是說溫柔：女人在岸邊

women washing clothes by the riverbank,

捶洗衣裳；劃竹筏的男人用魚鷹打魚。

on bamboo rafts, men poling, fishing with cormorants.

我漫步石砌的堤壩，無所事事地打量他們

I stroll the stone dam, idling, watching.

——說水，也是說古舊的廊橋，夜晚，

Talk about water is talk of the ancient bridge,

燈火亮起來，猶如一片燦爛銀河，人民

night, lamps, the bright Milky Way,

在燈火下歡天喜地載歌載舞——說水，

people singing, dancing their joy. Talk about water

更主要是說心情；這個冬天，我以隱逸的方式

is talk about mood—this winter, secluded

打發寒冷，覺得自己就像水上靜靜飛翔的鷺鳥，

from the cold, I’m like a heron gliding above the surface,

看起來形影孤單，卻很驕傲——說水，

alone with its shadow, self-possessed. Talk about water

也是說歲月，一年又一年，不管是洪流滾滾，

is talk about time, year after year

還是波平如鏡，都消失在歷史的長河中，

rolling in torrent or smooth as glass,

而未來，不知道會出現什麼——說水，

all of it sliding down the long river of history,

因此也是說一種認識：應該向捶洗衣服的女人，

the unknowable future in wait. Talk about water

打魚的男人，燈火下舞蹈的人民學習

is talk about knowledge: one may learn

——他們平淡地對待生活，不想高深的問題

from women beating laundry,

（不想哲學、文學，也不想天文、地理）

from fishermen, from those who dance in lamplight,

——當然，說水很可能最後什麼都不說，

to live casually, without great questions,

只面對著水中的倒影發呆：向下的白色房屋，

thinking neither of philosophy nor literature,

向下的幢幢樹影——當微風突然吹皺水面，

astronomy nor geography. But of course

它們不停地搖晃著，呈現出破碎的美麗。

talk about water may end

as talk about nothing,

merely gazing at water’s inversions in a trance,

trees, white houses pitched upside down,

until a breeze wrinkles the surface

and unceasing, everything undulates,

a kind of shattered beauty.