| ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
Attributed to Qu Ding
Mark Sullivan
Though we gather ourselves
and mountainside pavilions（楼阁，大帐篷）, from the absence
of sound that attends the ending of a sudden shower,
and the return of daily sounds rushing into this void --
geese signaling their pleasure, laundry clapped
against stones -- we will never be more
than apart from all this. It makes a kind of clothing
for comfort or protection, but as though an alb
made of mists hung in the vestry（教堂法衣室）,
awaiting certain ceremonies
and sacraments（圣礼）, the evening's late hesitation
above the river, the avenues turned to glass
in the chemistry of rain. Nothing, it goes
with everything, and so we bring it out
as one might have the imperial librarian descend
silk and uncoil its soft cinema
between royal hands, right to left.
where the rain stands for the fertility of rain
and the host peak and its attendants range like a court
that will rule forever, but with the benign
impartiality of rock and water. Whether memory
or mirror we could hardly say,
yet this slip of cloth woven from unwound cocoons（蚕茧）
and deepened with valleys and sheltered retreats
seems to give us back to ourselves,
an urgency of air we hadn't noticed
but was with us all along, when the wind, for instance
came in through the window with transparent5 messages
that announced the storm and were the storm.
点击  收听单词发音
|
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
上一篇：Slack Action 下一篇：Lost Civilization |
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
- 发表评论
-
- 最新评论 进入详细评论页>>
