穿越星宿的针孔 | 郑小琼

穿越星宿的针孔

穿越星宿的针孔，警示器像黄昏中的

乌鸦停在钢针机上嘶叫，煤气灯分割的

月亮，它四分之一的光与阴影，被酸液

灼伤的皮肤，除锈剂在太阳的深处清洗

昼与夜。铁，一根工业的肋骨，抚摸

饱受伤害的城市。生存在切割机下

断裂，消逝，绝不妥协。

下午沿着螺丝的纹路徐徐而行

楔入黑夜的沼泽，佝偻的月亮像

职业病患者，在雾霾下咳喘。超声波

起伏、降落，像不知疲倦的饶舌歌手

它不知风趣，睡意从机台爬出来

落在我的睑毛，绿色的指示灯闪烁

机械手从电镀水池取出一捆捆亮晶晶的

黎明。生活从移动滑轮上经过，流逝

沉入工业废水池。

启动器迅速沉入酸液，黑夜脱去

它的黑衣裳。月亮，夜的警报器，

它亮着，雪终于没落下。电镀液冒出的

浓烟与泡沫，一块铁片在死去或诞生

疼，变得迟疑与疲倦，它们被塞入

热处理闷罐，月亮，从天空巨大容器里

逃逸。生命囚于天地间，像铁

在热处理后变得坚硬

A Needle Hole through the Constellations

A needle hole through the constellations, a safety alarm like a crow at dusk

cawing from atop a steel-needled sewing machine, moonlight partitioned

by gaslight, the skin of a quarter of its light and shadow

burned by the acid bath, a rust cleanser purging day and night

from the deep recesses of the sun. Iron, rib of industry, fondles

the injured city. Under the cutting machine, existence

cracks, fades, refuses to compromise.

Afternoon follows the screw-threads’ steady motion

wedging into the marsh of evening, and the rickety moon

is a patient with an occupational disease, gasping in the haze. An ultrasonic wave

undulates and descends, like a tireless loquacious singer

knowing nothing of humor, drowsiness crawling up from the machine

to fall on my eyelashes, the green indicator flashing

the mechanical arm pulls from the electroplated sink bundles of bright shiny

dawns. Life passes on a pulley, elapsing,

sinking into an industrial cesspool.

The machine starter sinks rapidly into the acid bath, the night throws off

its dark clothing. Moonlight, night’s safety alarm,

begins to shine, the snow finally stops falling. Electroplating solution seeps out

in thick smoke and foam, each iron sheet between death and birth

hurts, becomes hesitant and weary, they’re stuffed into

the heat treatment tank, the moon absconds from the enormous container

of the sky. Life imprisoned between sky and earth, like iron

in the heat treatment tank, hardening.

他们

我记住的这些铁，在时光中生锈的铁

淡红或者暗褐，炉火中的眼泪

我记住的机台边恍惚而疲惫的眼神

他们的目光琐碎而微小，小如渐渐的炉火

他们的阴郁与愁苦，还有一小点，一小点希望

在火光中被照亮，舒展，在白色图纸

或者绘工笔的红线间，靠近着每月薄薄的工资

与一颗日渐疲惫的内心——

我记得他们的脸，浑浊的目光，细微的颤栗

他们起茧的手指，简单而粗陋的生活

我低声说：他们是我，我是他们

我们的忧伤，疼痛，希望都是缄默而隐忍的

我们的倾诉，内心，爱情都流泪，

都有着铁一样的沉默与孤苦，或者疼痛

我说着，在广阔的人群中，我们都是一致的

有着爱，恨，有着呼吸，有着高贵的心灵

有着坚硬的孤独与怜悯！

（选自诗集《黄麻岭》，长征出版社，2006）

They

I remember iron, iron that rusted over time

pale red or dark brown, tears in a furnace fire

I remember the distracted, exhausted eyes above the workstations

their gazes were small and trivial, small as a gradual furnace fire

their depression and distress, and a tiny bit of hope

lit up by the flames, unfolding on white blueprints

or between the red lines of a traditional painting, by the meager monthly wages

and a heart more exhausted by the day—

I remember their faces, their wild eyes and subtle trembling

their calloused fingers, their rough and simple lives

I say quietly: they are me, I am them

our grief and pain and hope are kept silent and forbearing

our confessions and hearts and loves are all in tears,

all is as silent and lonely as iron, or as pain

I say, in the vast crowds, we are all alike

we all love and hate, we all breathe, we all have noble spirits

we all have unyielding loneliness and compassion!

♫