Not like the leaves

不是街頭風中

windswept through the streets.

打旋的樹葉。

Nor still in the sea,

不是死寂的海，

a tethered boat.

系泊的船。

A poem is not the sky’s azure,

一首詩不是天空之藍，

its lucid air.

不是清爽的空氣。

A poem is a stake

它是一根長釘

through the world’s heart,

刺穿世界的心臟。

a glinting blade

一把森冷的刀

driven through the towns.

楔入每一座城鎮。

A poem is pain,

一首詩是痛苦，

a bright splinter of steel,

一塊耀眼的鐵，

ice, a blackened wound.

冰，一個瘀黑的傷口。

A poem is obdurate,

它堅固

its facets diamond.

如鑽石的刻面。

Graved stone.

肅穆的石頭。

A surging Asian river.

奔流的亞洲之河。

A poem is neither voice

一首詩不是輕聲細語

nor winged passage.

不是翅膀掠過的痕跡。

It’s a rifleshot

它是一聲槍響

at history, the skyline.

瞄准歷史，射向地平線。

A poem is no withering bloom.

一首詩是一朵不謝的花。

It is anguish, embalmed.

用香料保存的疼。