Lu Ye translated by Ouyang Yu
Ouyang Yu is now based in Shanghai, teaching at SIFT (Shanghai Institute of Foreign Trade) as a professor. In 2012, he has published a couple of books, including The Kingsbury Tales: A Complete Collection and Self Translation.
B-mode Ultrasound Report, Gynecology Department
On it is written:
Anteversion of uterus and abnormal corpus uteri: 9.1 x 5.4 x 4.7cm
A prominent tubercle on the back wall that is 1.9 x 1.8cm
Its inner membrane 0.8cm in thickness
The appendix (on the left) is 2.7 x 1.6cm and (on the right) 2.7 x 1.8cm
With a clear and even echo
I was drinking till my belly was close to bursting, my legs weakening
And my lower abdomen turned thin and transparent, like the crepe georgette I was in
To make it easier for the instrument to explore the complex topography inside
The doctors thought they were looking at a kaleidoscope
A woman’s final file, her history as much as her geography
The descriptive language on the report, in an objective tone
Is an assessment of the most vital part of a woman
Like the remarks on a student’s performance at school in the old days
The figures accurate and submissive
Suggesting that one had to offer a monthly betrothal present
If the report were written in a figurative language
It would have to be something like this: its shape is closer to a torpedo
Than an opening magnolia denudata
With a garment of pure cotton and silk linings
Hiding nothing in her heart except the depths of her body, in a corner or a far suburb
So remote it almost resembles the western regions in the body
Connected to the outside and heights by dark channels and narrow lifts
With a door ajar, a dream of crowded kids and the courage to be ageing all the way
In a lyrical language, it would have to be written thus:
Ah, this cradle of mankind
Grown on the body of a failed woman
Stops short of germinating despite its rich maternal instinct
Ah, this church of love
Ruins of love to the nth degree, like the Imperial Summer Palace
This other heart, an organ the most solitary and empty in the body
Ah, instead of being a house, an old garden, it often feel s homeless
And does not believe in gravitation as it has an intuition, soft and moist
A memory that flies
《妇科B 超报告单》
上面写着——
子宫前位，宫体欠规则，9·1×5·4×4·7cm
后壁有一外突结节1·9×1·8cm，内膜厚0·8cm
附件（左）2·7×1·6cm，（ 右）2·7×1·8cm
回声清澈均匀
当时我喝水， 喝到肚子接近爆炸，两腿酸软
让小腹变薄、变透明，像我穿的乔其纱
这样便于仪器勘探到里面复杂的地形
医生们大约以为在看一只万花筒
一个女人最后的档案，是历史， 也是地理
报告单上这些语调客观的叙述性语言
是对一个女人最关健部位的鉴定
像一份学生时代的操行评语
那些数字精确、驯良
暗示每个月都要交出一份聘礼
如果把这份报告转换成描写性语言
就要这样写： 它的形状， 与其说跟一朵待放的玉兰相仿
不如说更接近一颗水雷
它有纯棉的外罩和绸缎的衬里
它心无城府， 潜伏在身体最深处，在一隅或者远郊
偏僻得几乎相当于身体的西域
它以黑暗的隧道、窄小的电梯跟外面和高处相连
它有着虚掩的房门， 儿女成群的梦想以及一路衰老下去的勇气
如果换成抒情性语言呢， 就该这样写了吧：
啊， 这人类的摇篮
生长在一个失败的女人身上
虽有着肥沃的母性， 但每次都到一个胚芽为止
啊， 这爱情的教堂
它是N 次恋爱的废墟，仿佛圆明园
这另一颗心脏，全身最孤独最空旷的器官
啊， 它本是房屋一幢故园一座， 却时常感到无家可归
它不相信地心引力， 它有柔软潮润的直觉
有飞的记忆
Perhaps I am Willing
Perhaps I am willing
To be with you every day
Raising ducks.
My heart, for the rest of my life
Is a window pane
Cleaned till it shines.
Early in the morning we go somewhere near
To the simple-minded creek
The sun spreading our skins
With a deep glaze
And the healthy grass reaching over our knees.
I am willing
To listen to you every dusk
Gathering the ducks home with a whist le
When the land becomes quiet
And the sun, brilliant, beautiful.
Because of the lush water grass
Our ducks are over-grown, nearly to the size of geese
Without the red crown
The sign of the geese.
We are so poor at managing them
That these ducks have become like us
Believing only in the poetry of life
Not wanting to go home for the night, and stepping onto a great
wandering journey
Happy or unhappy
Until they move back, from artificial propagation
To wilderness
Laying liberalist eggs, one by one
In the boundless grass.
《也许我愿意》
也许我愿意
每天和你在一起
放鸭子。
我后半生的心
是一块擦拭得锃亮的
窗玻璃。
我们一大早就去了不远处
那条心地单纯的小溪
太阳在皮肤上涂上一层
深色的釉彩
健康的青草漫过双膝。
我愿意
每天黄昏听你
用口哨集合起鸭子回家
那时大地多么沉寂
落日多么辉煌、壮丽。
由于水草丰茂
我们的鸭子长得太大，几乎像鹅
只是头顶上缺少红色王冠
那才是鹅的标志。
我们不擅管理
使得鸭子们全都跟我们一样
信奉生活中的诗意
渐渐夜不归宿，踏上伟大的流浪之路
哪管快乐和失意
就这样，它们从人工养殖过渡还原成了
野鸭子
把自由主义的蛋，一颗一颗地
产在无边的草丛里。
You Have Fallen Ill
Separated from you by hundreds of kilometers of a rainy land
I am so concerned about your condition
I misread weather report as cardiograph, CT, colour ultrasound or blood
pressure figures
I shall fast for you, taking only vegetables with little oil and rice congee
And pray for your recovery
Now that you are ill
Please take a good rest like barn grass after the rain
Flashing your tender bud in the afternoon sun
Ring me about your pain and dizziness smelling of Lysol
For life is a debt that needs to be paid off slowly
Please open the ward window and see the morning glow and the setting sun
over the top of the dawn redwood
And the path drifting with the aroma of dinner
Peace and quiet are the best doctors
I have so many things to warn you about but please do remember these:
You have to add a bit of laziness to your virtue
And let the dust gently settle on your desk
Make friends with tea and enemies with liquor or cigarettes
Have walnuts, peanuts, sesame, seaweeds and fish
Take a regular walk along the river
And take medications on time, not afraid of its bitterness
《你在病中》
我隔了上千里烟雨迷蒙的国土
惦念着你的病情
竟把天气预报误读成心电图、CT、彩超和血压数
我还要为此斋戒，只吃一点少油的素菜米粥
祈祷你的康复
如今你在病中
请像一棵雨后的稗草那样好好歇息
在午后阳光下闪烁细细的嫩芽
把来苏水味的疼痛和晕眩打电话告诉我吧
生命原是一笔需要慢慢偿还的债务
请打开病房的窗户， 看看水杉树顶的朝霞和落日
还有那飘着晚饭花香气的小路
安宁和静默是最好的大夫
我还有一大串叮嘱， 也请求你一一记住：
你要在美德里加进去那么一点儿懒
让书桌上轻轻落着尘土
你要与茶为友，以烟酒为敌
你要常吃核桃花生芝麻， 还有海藻和鱼
你要每天去江边散散步
你必须按时吃药啊， 不能怕苦
One
Now, everything has turned from two into one
One cotton quilt, one pillow
One tooth-brush, one face-towel
One chair, and photographs that contain only one person
And there is only one poplar tree outside the window as well
What’s more, I emit one egg in vain as usual every month
All these things are feminine
Shadows matching their shapes, like a widow
Sticking to her chastity, like a nun
Now, I lock my door alone, I walk downstairs alone
I window-shop alone, I walk alone, I go back to my room alone
I read alone, I have a banquet alone, I sleep alone
I live from morning till night
And have to walk to the end of my life alone
The cloth doll, covered in dust, on the bookshelf
Has no spouse, like myself
I am a divorcee and she, an old maid
We suffer from the same condition but have no pity for one another
My telephone remains silent, like a mute
Who can strike my heart’s cord in the stillness of the night?
Even my heartbeat is solitary
Creating an echo in the empty room
I am a compound vowel that cannot find a matching consonant
I am an oblique tone that cannot find a matching level tone
I am a surface that cannot find a match to strike
I am a parabola that cannot find its coordinate system
And I am a dandelion that can find neither the spring nor the wind
I am one, and I am ‘1’
With solitude as my mission
And loneliness as my career
《单数》
如今， 一切由双数变成了单数
棉被一床，枕头一个
牙刷一只，毛巾一条
椅子一把，照片保留单人的
窗外杨树也只有一棵
还有， 每月照例徒劳地排出卵子一个
所有这些事物都是雌的
她们像寡妇一样形影相吊
像尼姑一样固守贞操
如今， 一个人锁门， 一个人下楼
一个人逛商店，一个人散步，一个人回屋
一个人看书， 一个人大摆宴席， 一个人睡去
一个人从早晨过到晚上
还要一个人走向生命的尽头
布娃娃在书架上落满灰尘
跟我一样也没有配偶
我离异了，而她是老姑娘
我们同病却无法相怜
电话机聋哑人似地不声不响
谁能在夜深人静时拨通我的心弦
我连心跳的每一下都是孤零零的
在空荡荡的房子里引起回音
我是韵母找不到声母
我是仄声找不到平声
我是火柴皮找不到火柴棒
我是抛物线找不到坐标系
我是蒲公英找不到春天找不到风
我是单数，我是“1”
以孤单为使命
以寂寞为事业
The International Flight
Across the city wall of the Chinese language
Through the broken limbs of the Japanese language and over the hedge of
the Korean language
Until I, with a leap into the round window of the English language
Am translated into a sick sentence
Passion covers more than a thousand kilometers an hour
There are the sun-threshing-ground and cloud-villages outside the window
It is a gale, I believe, of thirty-thousand feet that is blowing me away
Chucking the absurd first part of my life onto the earth
The International Date Line resembles a jumping rope
As I jump back from the 12th to the 11th
From today to yesterday: Can mistakes be corrected? Can love return?
《国际航班》
跨出汉语的城墙
穿过日语的断臂残垣，翻过韩文的篱笆
最后， 又跳进了英语的圆窗
我被译来译去，成了一个病句
激情每小时上千公里
窗外是太阳的打谷场和白云的村庄
我相信是一场三万英尺的大风把我刮走
将荒唐的前半生扔在了地球上
国际日期变更线像一条跳绳
我从4 月12 日跳回11 日
今天变昨天， 错是否能改，爱是否可以重来
Lu Ye, is a Chinese poet born in December 1969. She has published a number of poetry collections, such as feng shenglai jiu meiyou jia (Wind is Born Homeless), xin shi yijia fengche (Heart is a Windmill) and wode zixu zhi zhen wuyou zhi xiang (My Non-existent Home Town). She has also published 5 novels such as xingfu shi you de (There was Happiness) and xiawu dudianzhong (Five in the Afternoon). She has won a number of poetry awards, including the People’s Literature Award in 2011. She now teaches at Jinan University, China.