于岚

疑问

太阳是亮的
月亮也是亮的
太阳和月亮
却是不一样的
血是红的
象火一样红
火总是热的
血却会冷

假如月亮能时刻照耀
又何必怕它寒光似刀
既然太阳能给予光明
又何必让它越俎代庖？

假如世界原浸在血里
生命凝固了也没关系
既然人类点燃了火炬
为何不让它长明不息？

09/10/79

Questions

The sun is bright
So is the moon
The sun and the moon
Differ as we know
Blood is red
As red as fire
Fire burns hot
Blood turns cold

If the moon shines forever
Its cold blade is nothing to fear
Since the sun can gives us light
Why then is the moon there?

If the world has been soaked in blood
Who cares about life being frozen dead
Yet man has lighted the torch
Why not keep it burning red?

恨

恨是一棵参天的大树
深深植根在爱的土中
假如没有深厚的爱情
浮萍便将是恨的象征
恨是一片多情的山岚
日夜眷恋着爱的群峰
假如没有坚实的爱情
流云便将是恨的身影

恨是一颗奇异的种子
是爱之花的生命结晶
埋入心底开出的花朵
每片都有旧日的笑容

我从来不敢轻易去恨
恨的代价是这样沉重
你们看到我诅咒人生
有谁知道我心的苦境

01/80

Hate It is a tree that reaches into the sky Yet deeply roots in the earth of love Without the depth of the soil of love Duckweed will be the symbol of hate Affectionate as the lingering mist That clings to the hills of love It will disperse like fleeting clouds If the solidity of love is not there As a wonderful seed, Hate Is the crystal of the blossom of love With petals growing deep from the heart Carrying the smile of old days I never dare to proclaim hate For fear of its heavy cost When you see me cursing the world Do you see the bitterness of my heart?

比喻

她笑着， 象一只猫
我是一只被俘的耗子

02/28/80

Metaphor She smiles like a cat I am the mouse in captivity

春

灰色的幕布
镶几朵粉白的花
褐色的树枝
把褐色的雨留下
孤独地挂在林中
该责备哪一位画家
那一抹明亮的淡绿
当树枝还没有发芽

03/30/80

Spring Pinkish white petals Framed against a grayish curtain The dark brown boughs of trees Catch and hold the rain, of the same hue The solitary existence of a bright touch of green Testifies the impatient piece of art work When no buds are coming out of trees

琴台

我来这里
怅然若失
不知是怀念什么
还是期待什么

数年的分别
老墙已一片斑驳
琴台故地
是空荡的庭院一座

没有瑶琴的残骸
更莫说笙管箫歌
鹦鹉洲上芳草萋萋
这里却是一片冷落

高山谁去咏它巍峨
龟蛇徒然在这里守着
流水谁去咏它坦荡
大江滚滚虽不曾干涸

是怀古还是伤今
我把陈旧的栏杆抚摸
叹长江东去
流尽坎坷

别了， 琴台
暂且在心上挂一把锁
放走怀念， 将期待关着
等一个什么来打破这沉默

04/80

The Musician's Place Here I come As if at a loss Knowing not what to recall And what to expect After year's separation The walls appear more haggard The musician's place Is but now an empty yard No traces of the fine stringed instrument Not to say a symphony of songs Grass is thick on the Parrot Isle Here it is silence No praise of mountains' loftiness In vain the Turtle and Snake stay No praise of the River's magnificence Despite its ever lasting flow