Friday, March 27, 2009

纪念海子--Remembering Hai Zi

Twenty years ago today, Hai Zi chose to leave. His poems and words, full of color, sound and passion and longing for the faraway lands, have made him one of our most intimate speakers among that generation of Chinese, of touchable pain and aloneness of youth, and that longing of unknown coming days with nameless excitement and fear.

So this is for him, that timid, short and skinny law school teacher who remains with us, with me, burning with dreams and colorful of imaginations, and never lost in our hearts. Above photo is his beloved, and because of that, our beloved as well, qianhai lake. I remember when I was asked to cite a Chinese poem in English, I cited Gu Cheng, instead of Hai Zi, because Hai Zi's hard to translate between languages and also I could never remember the words, they are long poems, I just read as reading a life.

铁轨,不再伸向远方
你的热情已冻结
青海湖变成银灰的铅块
你独自一人
选择了那样一种离去
二十年
你的读者和爱人都已失去了光泽
而你的闪光仍是金黄和铜绿
那是你的麦,青草和刀锋的颜色
原来死亡可以真的不朽
但那不是你的本意
我但愿你如每一个凡人
娶妻,生子,繁衍,不去想死亡的事
但将没有人在一个共同的日子
提起你的名字
海子,那是镜子一样的湖泊
映出云的影子和山的影子
映出我们的脸和身体
和鸟的影子
然后你选择干涸
消失在大地和远方
那是孤独的断裂
没有声音
但你依旧面向大海
说话,做梦
生活和死亡

If you want to know what it is about, you can read what Babel Fish did of my Chinese Words here. Oh, Babel Fish....

1 comment:

Albatross said...

写得好。

必须承认,我一首海子都没有读过,或者是读过后都没有印象。诗真是很个人的东西。