Chua Chim Kang 蔡深江 (b. 1965)

SELECTED POEMS

只要还有一颗树活着

不再有树

其实，这个世界已经无所谓树了，只是按日历的说法，春天该有满山满谷的花，茂盛的枝叶和人类欢愉的歌声……

风找不到休息的角落
这是春天
黄昏距离地平线尚有三十余度
有人在水泥地上凿好了孔
用神话孕育一棵树的种子
并且感到欣慰

而岛已失去了一轮的话题

其实，根据一位匆忙路过的心理医生的说词，仅存的树们已患有严重的性格分裂症，时常将自己误以为是不会发亮的电灯杆，或者以为落叶正是他们不屑的眼神，口水一样往贫瘠的土地猛吐……

不再有树
视线游走在繁忙的空间
许多触礁的眼神痛楚地淌着泪
沉默顿时传染开来
鼻子快承受不住这种年代了
何况鸟

地球一头抱头沉思

其实，从外太空往地球观察，树们就像刺猬一样护着人类，并且不断以他们的身高刺探光的深度，因为树们谨记著历史的教训，知道太阳有一天会为其他九个兄弟复仇……

而鸟已失去了议论的话题
不知道浑沌要持续多久
太阳开始怀念箭亡的弟兄
所有焦灼失去了平息的方式
树枒上垂吊一叶叶干瘦的云
曲扭着身世

街上布满麻木的苍蝇

其实，等公车的人都戴上重重的口罩，苍蝇一样不安地搓揉鼻子，以便把不含氧的空气驱走……

地球一度抱头沉思
很有诚意地要解决呼吸的瓶颈
等公车的人手拿编织的钩子
把街上的废气一针一针的织成网
挂在树枒上
悼念这些肺疾而死的树

每一颗笔直的躯干都不曾背叛月光

其实，树们纵使知道自己被文明骗了，仍衷心地坚守方位，深怕他们一撒走，就会引发一场政变；人类会进而利用他们的躯干制造出印满彼此政诘的纸张……

街上布满麻木的蝇
相互走告腻耳的消息
有人拿一整叠预算赤字开玩笑
在一次全国性的会议上
几万颗被伐的树用洁白的身躯承受
纹身的屈辱

树站着的姿势

其实，你一直都没有想过树们不断长高的用意，甚至在浇水的时候也不知道为什么要让树们长高；自从夸父丢出手中的杖，就托付好树们的使命，希望有一天能缩短天地间的距离……

每一颗笔直的躯干都不曾背叛月光
甚至要努力愈合
日夜的温差
在等公车的时候
有人凝视影子
想象许多叶子被风轻拂的午后

历史一时悬在那儿

其实，树的生理结构肯定比人类更适合拥有历史，他们不刻意使自己看起来长得不象树，也不屑于将任何不属于自己的饰物加诸身上，甚至，因为人类不让他们拥有挺立远眺的自由而愤然自缢……

树站着的姿势
十分困扰戴厚黑镜架的史学工作者
要如何用精密的科学计算
完成个人鉴赏与想象能力
树的影子与实际身高相等时
太阳是不是在指针三点半的位置

只要还有一颗树活著

其实，只要还有一颗树活着就很够了，因为他不会自相残杀，也愿意安于孤寂，他可以与风相处得很好，也可以让人类更懂得自重……

历史一时悬在那儿
等种子发芽
成功地啣接一个新的世纪

by Chua Chim Kang 蔡深江
from Forgetting The Moonlight If One Cannot Start Again (1989)

As Long As One Tree Lives On

No more trees 

        Actually, this world is already indifferent to trees, but it’s just that according to the calendar, Spring should see the valleys and hills filled with flowers, lush greenery and the joyous singing voices of humanity……

         The wind can’t find a corner to rest
         This is Spring
         Dusk is about thirty degrees from the horizon
         Someone has chiselled a hole in the concrete floor
         And has used fairy tales to nurture the sapling of a tree
         And also, is feeling pleased

And the island has already lost track of a round of topics 

         Actually, according to a psychologist who was hurrying past, the remaining trees have contracted severe schizophrenia, often mistaking themselves for broken lampposts, or imagining that the falling of leaves was actually the disdainful expression in their eyes, being hurled, like spit, at the barren land…… 

         No more trees
         With their lines of sight floating to the busy spaces
         Many shipwrecked glances, shedding painful tears
         Silence suddenly spreads
         Their noses will soon be unable to bear these times
         What more the birds

The earth holding her head in her hands, brooding 

         Actually, viewing earth from space, the trees are like the spines of a porcupine defending humanity, constantly using their height to spy on the sunlight’s depth, because the trees remember the lessons of history, and know that the sun will one day avenge its nine brothers……

         And the birds have lost track of the topic of conversation
         Not knowing how long the chaos will last
         The sun begins to yearn for its brothers, shot dead by arrows
         All the ways of anxiety, losing one’s calm
         Leaves of dry, skinny clouds hang off the branches of the trees
         Distorting their life’s story 

The streets are blanketed with numb houseflies

         Actually, those waiting for the bus are wearing masks, and the flies are also uneasily rubbing their noses, to dispel the unoxygenated air. 

         The earth is wrapped in thought
         Very earnestly trying to ease the constriction in breathing
         Those waiting for the bus are holding knitting needles
         Weaving the stale air needle by needle into a web
         Hanging it on tree branches
         To mourn for those trees who’ve died of lung disease 

Each perfectly straight trunk will never betray the moonlight

         Actually, even though the trees know that they’ve been deceived by civilisation, still they wholeheartedly hold to their places, deeply afraid that if they leave, it’d set off a revolution; humans would come and use the tree trunks to manufacture stacks of paper and print denunciations of each other……

         The street is blanketed with numb houseflies
         Buzzing round filling each other’s ears with sickening news
         Someone took a whole pile of budget deficits and made fun of them
         During a nationwide dialogue,
         Ten of thousands of trees which had been cut down used their white innocent bodies to receive
         the humiliation of tattooing 

The posture of the trees while standing 

         Actually, I had never thought about the purpose of the trees’ unceasing growth, even while watering them I did not know why we let them grow so tall; ever since the giant Kuafu threw that club from his hands, entrusting the mission to the good trees, hoping that one day they would lessen the distance between heaven and earth… 

         Each perfectly straight trunk will never betray the moonlight
         Even as they work hard to heal
         The difference in temperature between day and night
         While waiting for the bus
         Somebody glimpses a shadow
         Imagining an afternoon where the leaves are swirled by the wind 

History is, for a moment, left hanging 

         Actually, the physiology of the trees is definitely much more suited to containing history than humans are.  They don’t really cause themselves to look like they’re not trees, nor do they deign to allow ornaments that don’t belong to them to be added to their bodies. And they have even hanged themselves in anger, because humanity doesn’t allow them the freedom of standing upright and looking to the distance. 

         The posture of the trees while standing
         really puzzles the historian wearing thick black-rimmed glasses
         About how to use the most precise scientific calculations
         To complete each person’s powers of appreciation and imagination
         When a tree’s shadow is as long as its actual height
         is the sun at the 3.30 position? 

As long as one tree lives on 

         Actually, as long as one tree lives on it is more than enough, because he will not commit massacres, and is content to be alone. He will get along well with the wind, and humanity will better understand dignity. 

         History is, for a moment, left hanging
         Waiting for the seed to sprout
         and successfully usher in a new era

by Chua Chim Kang 蔡深江
translated from the Chinese by Daryl Lim Wei Jie
from Forgetting The Moonlight If One Cannot Start Again (1989)

 

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