21 August 2011

Paul Celan


Flower           。Paul Celan

The stone.
The stone in the air, which I followed.
Your eye, as blind as the stone.

We were
hands,
we baled the darkness empty, we found
the word that ascended summer:
flower.

Flower - a blind man's word.
Your eye and mine:
they see
to water.

Growth.
Heart wall upon heart wall
adds petals to it.

One more word like this word, and the hammers
will swing over open ground.
 

Homecoming

Snowfall, denser and denser,
dove-coloured as yesterday,
snowfall, as if even now you were sleeping.

White, stacked into distance.
Above it, endless,
the sleigh track of the lost.

Below, hidden,
presses up
what so hurts the eyes,
hill upon hill,
invisible.

On each,
fetched home into its today,
an I slipped away into dumbness:
wooden, a post.

There: a feeling,
blown across by the ice wind
attaching its dove- its snow-
coloured cloth as a flag.
 
(保罗·策兰,德国犹太诗人,是二次大战后最重要的德语诗人之一,
1942年双亲皆死于集中营。) 
 


13 August 2011

壳剥。花开九层





太陽從芭蕉樹後注入草地
在枯枝上閃著光,這些不會是
虛假的,在有限的溫暖裡
堅持一團龐大的寒氣 

-《有人問我公理和正義的問題》/楊 牧

03 August 2011

哈娜 2.0



刚来一晚,隔早起来已经自顾自扑草玩耍,看一眼就知道又是一只天生天养的小猫。

长大一定是好猎人。 :-)