我无法拒绝你手指的对抗
就象镰刀 放倒自己心爱的女人
磁性的月光穿过午夜 化着水 化成雾
唤醒了林中沉睡的鸟鸣
你是一株麦子 在我的麦田里
等待收割又害怕收割 你熟透的心
与麦香一样熟透的身体
害怕成为太阳的断章和祭品
我不是一个浪子 所以
开镰之前就修好了爱情的粮仓
和责任的堤坝 那扇水泼不进的大门
就是我们一生的守望……
The harvest season of wheat
I can't resist your fingers.
Just as the scythe put down his beloved woman
The magnetic moonlight through the midnight watering into the mist
Woke up the sleeping birds in the forest
You are a grain of wheat in my field
Waiting for but also afraid of harvesting, your mature heart
And your body as flavor as the ripe wheat grain
Both fear to turn into the sun’s fragments and offerings
I am not a prodigal, so
Before the harvest I would have repaired the granary of love
And the responsibility of the dam, the door keeping water from pouring into
Namely is the watch of our whole life......
◎父亲和鸟
独坐于黄昏 我看见忧伤在父亲的额头叹息
他打满老茧的手上 落日正一点点滴落和苍老
找不到归巢的鸟儿咽咽地望着他
期待被树枝切割的月光在午夜的琴声里取暖或者歌唱
而村口那眼旺盛了几代人的老井正在奄奄一息
复垦的机器如醉酒的镰刀割去了大山的满头黑发和庄稼人的希望
那一排排倒下的树枝象地震又象余震
砸在父亲的心里很疼很痛
鸟儿在父亲的头上盘旋了几圈然后不忍地飞走了
它长长的悲鸣算是与父亲作最后的道别
虽然眼含残疾 但父亲发誓
一定要找一个医术高明的医生来医治大山的疾病
101能让光头变森林 当然也可以让大山回春
父亲向村口走去 转过一道弯就是山外
朦朦的夜色里留下他星星点点的汗烟和绿色的影子……
Father and the bird
Sitting alone in the dusk I saw sadness on his forehead sigh mutely
He’s got calluses on his hands, and the sun is setting and getting pale little by little
The bird could not find the homing looking at him sadly
Expecting the moonlight cut to pieces by branches to keep warm at midnight sound or singing
But the old well at the entrance of the village which has been exuberant for several generations is dying
Reclamation machines such as a drunken sickle cut out the hill’s black hair and the hopes of the farmers
The rows of trees fell down like earthquakes and aftershocks
Hitting Father in the heart so painfully and sorrowfully
The bird circled over Father's head and then it didn’t have the heart to fly away
At last with its long sighing cry left to say goodbye to Father
Although Father had a disability in the eye but he swore
He must find a good doctor to cure the disease hill
101 could make the bareheaded hairy of course it could also make hills in spring rejuvenation
Father walked to the entrance of the village, rounding a bend and going outside the hill
At the dim light of night there left the tiny spots of Chinese tobacco and his green shadow behind......
英译/王光娟 Translated by Wang Guangjuan
作者简介：许星，男，1962年11月生于四川绵阳，媒体记者。世界汉诗协会、中国诗歌学会、四川省作家协会会员。有作品在《人民日报》《人民文学》《诗刊》《解放军文艺》《北京文学》《四川文学》《星星诗刊》《文学界》《山西文学》《山东文学》《边疆文学》《天津文学》《西部》《Prosopisia》《Eastlit》等国内外130多家报刊发表并多次获奖，著有诗集《虚掩的村庄》。现居四川绵阳。
Bionote
Xu Xing, born in November 1962 in mianyang, sichuan, is a media reporter and member of The world Association of Chinese poetry, Chinese Poetry Academy, and The Writers' Association of Sichuan Province. His works has appeared in the People's Daily, People's Literature, Poetry, PLA Literature, Prosopisia, Eastlit and 130 other publications. He has won awards both at home and abroad. Now he lives in mianyang in sichuan.
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