一天早晨，我背靠落枝

One morning, my back against fallen branches

寫一封私人信件：你好，沙漠之子

I write: hello, son of the desert,

你好，親愛的魚鰭

hello, dear fish fin.

到了中午，我把信封好

At noon I seal the letter,

系在風的脖頸。我寧願相信風

tie it to the wind’s neck. I trust wind

也不願相信信鴿，信鴿總是

more than homing-pigeons,

相似的，成群的

their flocks all alike.

風獨來獨往，可並不完美

Wind’s alone, though not perfect.

每當它路過或只是到達，它總會說

Coming or going, it says only

哦，我來了

Ah, I’m here.

你好，草根

Hello, grass root.

你好，失業的中年女人

Hello, middle-aged woman out of work.

我的房間是一把斷腿的木椅

My room is a wooden chair with broken legs.

我只能站著，即使在黑夜

I stand, even at night.

我住的城市則是一些拼湊起來的

My city’s pieced together from copies.

複制品。我看到的實情是：

The truth is

人人都在鬧饑荒，人人都做出

everyone’s starving, yet all

飽餐饜足大腹便便的樣子

walk around with pot bellies,

pretending they’re well-fed.

當我從夜裏醒來，我像一支鋼筆

浸泡在夜的濃墨裏——

When I wake in the dark

I’m a pen dipped in night’s thick ink.

僅僅寫信，就要繞許多圈子

我必須繞過被老鼠咬壞的

Writing a letter, I have to get past many difficulties:

信封，潮濕的郵票，

mouse-gnawed envelopes,

和極易寫錯的漢字

damp stamps,

words I easily miswrite.

我已經注意到，一封沒有錯別字的信

並不能使一個地址

I’ve noticed: a letter, even without mistakes or misspellings,

更悠閑，或更健康

can’t easily or safely

compose its own address.