鄭單衣詩選

鳳兒

今夜，我貪婪的鳳兒是隻狐狸 

她愛我時，猶如夏季 

香水灑過五遍，鳳兒的頭髮輕盈若許 

這別後的小手總是溫軟纖細 

幾日不見，竟如此芬芳迷離

此地是他鄉，夏至也照樣清風徐徐 

這會兒，我見她飲下涼水。再往後 

又點數頸項上的黑痣

入夜時，燈籠微胖，近在咫尺 

我卻想著鹽和一群羊子

哦，有多少珠簾在這時幽閉 

又有多少怨尤，在弄著一件單衣 

夜和夜，如此不同。但鳳兒的房間裡 

一種氣息卻熟悉另一種氣息。這多像 

滿滿一籃鮮梨，心懷柔玉，一隻

又一隻，我為她剝下果皮。就像她對我

重復一席溫存的話語

但所有的話語都只是一句。在今夜

梨兒走遍週身。愛，展開 

火紅之軀，又在我心中佈下了風雨

1988年6月

Phoenix

Tonight, my Phoenix is a greedy fox

When she loves me, it feels like summer

Perfumed five times, her hair is soft and tender

Her small hands delicate as ever

After a few days away they fascinate me

Here is no home, but the summer breeze is just as cool

Now I see her drinking cold water. Then

She counts the freckles on my neck

When evening comes, the lanterns look fat. All is before me

But my mind is on salt and a flock of sheep

Oh, how many bead curtains are closing at this moment

And how many deprived hands are fingering a single garment

One night differs from another. But in her room

One breath is familiar with the rest

Like a basketful of pears, with soft-jade core, one

Another, for her I peel the fruit 

As she repeats those gentle words

All words are but one. Tonight

Pears roll over our bodies as love

Opens its fiery body, then starts a storm in my heart. 

June 1988

夏天的翅膀 

　　 

當所有的夏天都逝去，剩一個，在這兒轟響 

我欠身向內，看你在鬆弛的衣衫裡斂翅 

走在我幹淨的地板上。晚風低低 

納著清涼。在一個秋天吹不到的地方 

　　 

你打哪兒來？像團火，引得我體內的金屬閃爍 

一會兒偏右，一會兒向左，叮噹一片，我們 

在陌生的人群裡折轉、盤旋……啊，夏天 

幸福襲擊著心髒，你為何今我如此迷戀？ 

　　 

啊，再高些，讓我們臨空俯瞰。你看人世 

那些渺小的心靈，蠕動著，那兒，你看--- 

我們命中的家園。啊夏天要讓果實都成熟 

向下！那兒，你看，秋風在翻過眩目的雪山 

　　 

啊，你為何不是蜘蛛的一場大夢？一生穿著 

不合身的衣裳；啊，你為何不是蝴蝶 

心中的蝴蝶？溫柔的身體裡有水一樣的悲涼 

凡是熱的都會冷。啊，迎著你的火光，我要插上 

　　 

插上一雙夏天的翅膀！讓你領著，像團火 

收集著夏日飛逝的陽光。為一支歌 

啊，我的翅膀，你看我離地，騰空，選好了 

方向。為何你姓氏裡有我一生的月亮？

The Wings of Summer 

When all but one summer day is left thundering here

I lean inward, and see you, wings folded in a loose shirt

Walking on my clean floor. Evening breezes are gentle

And cool, in a place autumn wind does not reach

Where are you from? Like a fireball, you make the metals in me shine

And tinkle, now left, now right… We hover

Over a crowd of strangers, in circles and spirals… Ah, summer

Happiness attacking my heart, how do you enchant me so much?

Oh, higher, let us watch like birds. Look, a world

Of tiny hearts, wriggling. Look, there – 

Our fated homeland. Ah, summer wants to ripen all the fruits

Below! Look, autumn wind is climbing over the snow mountains. 

Why aren’t you the grand dream of a spider, all your life

Wearing ill-fitting clothes? Why aren’t you a butterfly

Within a butterfly? In your warm body, there is sadness like water

Hot will turn cold. Ah, in the glimmer of your fire, I want to put on

A pair of summer wings! Following you, like a fireball

Collecting all the fleeting rays of the summer day, to make a song

Oh, my wings, see me leave the ground, elevate, choose a

Direction. Why do I find in your name the moon of my life? 

如果你是玫瑰

如果你是玫瑰

就請在這火紅的夏季深深鞠躬

你是我前天的花朵，也是我後天的花朵

如果你愛我

如果你是玫瑰就燃燒著幸福！

就踏著正步，穿過夢魘

把你的刺，深深留在我肉中

可我，並不在這兒

我是在更高的空中行走

如果你是玫瑰

就把沉重的頭轉向我夏天的道路

就低垂、就緊緊貼住自己的脊背

如果你愛我

如果你是玫瑰就痛哭著虛無！

1992年7月

If You Are a Rose

If you are a rose

Then bow deeply in this fiery summer

You are my blossom the day before, and the day after

If you love me

If you are a rose, then burn with happiness!

Then stride through the nightmare

And leave your thorn deep in my side

But I am not here

I am walking higher in the air

If you are a rose

Then turn your heavy head toward my summer path

Then droop it low, and press it close to your neck

If you love me

If you are a rose, then cry over nothingness!

July 1992

獻 詩 

　　 

給你，這四月和五月吐血的黃金。給你，七月 

這魔鬼的輪子、帶電的天空、已經 

撲滅的火種。給你--- 

一把彎刀、一個失常的比喻、一個打翻的 

酒瓶，我的最後一點財富，也給你 

　　 

寶石、毒藥、一個砸開的地獄，都給你 

即便，你是天堂，是紙上的月亮 

我也要---給你。即便它 

只是個幌子，再騙我一次。即便它 

是一把收不攏的雨傘、一筆花掉的錢 

　　 

即便它，是石頭，充當著白玉。是退化的魚 

登上絕望的樓梯。即便它 

是一袋沉悶的土豆，埋在深深的歲月裡 

即便它是投身大海的泥船，是瘟疫、陣雨 

一列脫軌的火車在喘著粗氣 

　　 

但我，還是要---給你！給你一個 

倒塌的家園，任意的肉中的秋天 

因為等待，急得繃直的彈簧---它癱瘓著 

像一條抽累的皮鞭，像一句空話 

一堆失效的藥片---給你，給你一個 

　　 

終止的行動、折斷的刀鋒、已經 

遺忘的疼痛。還有，還有這隻

摔碎的鐘---我的心---哭喊著，卡住 

這隻鐘，我的最後一個天堂，也拿去吧！ 

即便，你是廢墟，是地獄，我也已經給你

Dedication

This is to you: bleeding gold of April and May. To you: July

The devil’s wheel, electrified sky, and

Extinguished fire. To you – 

A bent knife, an odd metaphor, a split

Bottle of wine, my last bit of wealth, I give to you

Gem, poison, broken hell, all to you

Even if you are a paradise, a paper moon

I’d still give – to you. Even if 

It’s a ruse, fool me again. Even if 

It’s an umbrella that won’t close, money already spent

Even if it’s a stone faking jade, or a regressed fish

Climbing the stairs of despair. Even if 

It’s a sack of dull potatoes buried in the depth of time

Even If it’s a mud boat thrown to the sea, or a plague, a shower

A derailed train heavily panting

I’d still give – to you! To you: a collapsed

Homeland, a rampant autumn

Or after too much waiting, a metal spring now paralyzed

Like a belt tired from whipping, an empty promise

An expired pill – this is to you, all to you

A halted action, worn blades, pain

Already forgotten. And here is more:

A broken clock – my heart – crying, trying to stop

This clock. My last paradise, take it!

Even if you are ruins, or hell… It’s all for you

刺 (2000年7月30日)

　　 

而記憶總是一本書最後的頁碼 

而告別沒有內頁 

　　 

而我，已告別告別本身 

用三個月 

　　 

我研究地圖 

我已來到紙上 

　　 

而紙，只有摺痕，沒有記憶 

而第一頁也是最後一頁 

　　 

我坐氣墊船也坐計程車 

在許多快速移動的平台上 

我，任意地出現

在你的記憶裡 

像一根肉刺，我 

固定著那本叫告別的書 

　　 

而刺不需要地圖 

它，從不告別任何事物

此詩送給你

輕輕地，我掏，輕輕往外掏，這首詩，春天啊，這首詩

用舌頭尖，小心又小心，用舌頭尖

掏出堅硬的核，飲完核裡的冰，再送給你

耐心地，從衣兜裡……我繼續往外掏，這首詩

忍不住……又再掏一遍……春天啊

吹去上面的灰，再送給你

這雙寂寞的出血的手，和指頭上的髒繃帶

輕輕地，為什麼這些樹枝仍要吐出纖維和風？

輕輕地，挖，輕輕往外挖，埋在肉裡

那個不綠的核，用舌頭尖

在這張不夠綠的紙片上，用舌頭尖

使勁兒舔著我裡面那個黑色的春天啊

在空白處，為什麼那些纖維仍要吐出樹葉和風？

在指尖上，送給你這首詩的最後一行：

「我在挖自己肉裡埋得太深的綠樹與星空……」

This Poem Is For You

Gently, I pull – gently, I pull out a poem. Ah, spring and this poem!

With the tip of my tongue, carefully, I carefully pull out

A hard pit, drink up the ice inside, and present it to you

Patiently, from my pocket… I keep emptying out this poem

I can’t help… emptying it out again… Ah, spring!

Blowing away the dust, I present to you

My lonely bleeding hands, and the dirty bandages

Gently, why do branches breathe out fibers and wind?

Gently, dig, gently dig out the pit buried in my flesh

The pit that is never green enough… use the tip of my tongue

On a scrap of paper not green enough….Oh, worms, with sharp tongues

With quick strength, are licking the black spring buried in my fresh

On the margins, why do fibers breathe out leaves and wind?

On my fingertips, I present you the last line of the poems:

“I am digging the green trees and starry nights buried too deep

In my flesh…”