for Zhuo Qing

為卓青

The world rains all night long

世界下著一夜的雨，

this common night—

這尋常一夜——

someone casts away his useful life before the TV,

有人在電視機前消磨著有益的人生，

someone drifts and sinks in a wine glass,

有人在酒杯裏沉沒、浮起，

someone drowns weakness in desire, tempering an ego.

有人在欲望下捏碎懦弱、鍛造自我。

No mere concepts, you’d agree,

這些並不僅僅是概念，

the world must be classified.

你會同意，世界必須歸類。

I’m thinking of spring weather, trees in the garden,

我想著，仲春天氣，園中的喬木，

water plants, couples dancing by the shore.

水草，以及人在岸邊舞蹈。

The rum ice-cream we enjoyed.

我們享受過的朗姆酒冰淇淋……

If I offered you

如果把生活中的傷痛

life’s wounds, things might have been different.

呈現給你，也許就有變數。

Or not. To you, others’ healing’s irrelevant.

但也許不，他人的癒合與你無關。

That spring I hesitated,

我遲疑在那個仲春，

our genial and dark meeting, beer, embraces,

溫暖而黑暗的聚會，啤酒，擁抱，

lipstick in the morning, camera.

早晨的口紅，照相機。

Zhongguancun. Lunch with a beloved.

中關村。與愛過的人一起吃午飯。

Jewish history. Stuffy cafe.

猶太史。悶熱的咖啡廳。

The details of life mounting like a tide.

全部的生活細節正在漲潮……

That one night

唯一的一個晚上：

you returned from mountain climbing,

你爬山歸來，剛剛度過一場危機。

just overcoming a crisis.

你不是第一個，也不會是最後一個。

You were not the first, nor the last,

我堅信：

but I believed those moments with you,

那一刻我與你同在。

how the night rain drenched us both.

那一夜的雨同樣淋濕我。

Your sense of it I dare not guess.

你意味著不敢想像，

Crows in the countryside speak for death,

鄉村上空的烏鴉是死亡的符號，

but are not necessarily ominous.

但未必不祥。

Now I recall only the hand whose warmth I held.

此刻我只能緬懷那隻溫暖的我握過的手。

You’ve become a shared memory,

你成為眾人分享的記憶，

my task in this life to engrave.

而我此生的工作是對記憶的鐫刻。