桌前坐下

At my desk I remember

想念那片窗

looking through another:

液光柔雨，來去都那麼單薄

fluid light, now and then soft rain,

零碎的黃葉慢慢滑出風的大弧

yellow leaves strewn along the wind’s arc.

破爛的簷瓦互相切入

Between the lapping, broken rooftiles,

瓦坑上，幻青的苔蘚向東流滲

a green and eastward creep of moss,

嬰孩毛髮一樣幼微的小草

grassblades tender as infant’s hair

癢癢地搔著季節的腋窩

tickling autumn’s armpit.

下面是母雞和許多的小雞

Below, the hen jabbering

吱吱咯咯，鄰居木屐

with her chicks. On the long slate beside the well,

得得敲響井旁的長石板

a neighbor’s clogs,

their wooden clatter.

我常常看著雨水

在拱起的圓瓦上騰跳、滑脫

I’d watch rainwater slide

春天好像永遠乾不起來

leaping from the roof.

餘下的小片天空

Spring was never dry.

也一點一滴給浸濕

The one clear patch of sky

溶溶軟爛，像紙要破

surrounded bit by bit, sodden

as a paper sack before bursting.

我坐在枯舊的小木桌前習字，發呆

溫暖的墨煙味

I’d sit at my old desk, practicing characters,

和飄忽的白蘭花香

mind adrift. The scent of warm ink,

把風景都染成黑白了

the waft of magnolias,

餘下的光慢慢褪落

dyed the landscape black and white.

綠暗了，褐重了，赭紅灰淡

As light drained,

深淺交蝕的疊影

greens deepened, browns grew heavy, ochres thinned.

再分不出真幻

Shadows melded dark and light, swallowing

till the real fled the unreal.

鍵盤下著密密的秋雨

窗台上，依然活著一點光

Now beside my keyboard,

一閃而過的窗景碎塊

dense November rain.

夾雜著童年和童年的等待

On the windowsill, a feather of light.

那時我竟對窗難過

Beyond the glass, broken visions

以為討厭的習字功課

laced with childhood’s wish.

一定永遠寫不完

How sad it seemed,

bound to my lessons,

thinking they would never end.