March 27, 2013
Two Cedars piercing the Sky
For fun, a colleague and I translated a poem Master Tam wrote in 1976 (published in Mingpao Monthly in April 1976), in memory of Emily Dickinson for the 90th anniversary of her passing. The left column is his original poem, the right column is our experiment. Enjoy.
| 兩株刺天的麻栗 如祭燭 幽幽供列廊前── 你自己的祭壇 夜色如壓 |
Two Cedars piercing the Sky Like candles, a faint light At the end of the hallway— Night falls on Your altar. |
| 娑婆的髮髻曾凝初露 素衣拖曳於迴廊盡處 彷若分開渾沌 何其冷寞的，第一綫 孤光 |
Morning dew on Saha’s tresses White silk sweeps winding halls Cutting through early chaos Bitter first rays Lonely light. |
| 枝上的黃鸝不唱於枝上 你說 故無需月色 痕跡你二萬個清淡的日脚 更無需墓誌 也無需省認 當日徘徊於草徑的 鞋幫與心跳，以及 拂走最後一個五月的南風 攀過流虹的手 |
It is not of the oriole who sings The tune in the tree. You say the moon Follows soft not the sun’s 20,000 footprints. No reason for epitaph or To flee from shoe flaps And heart beats that once stroked The fields, and roughing The south winds of May was The hand that climbed the rainbow. |
| 倘說此地曾有謫仙小駐 風過處 當如鹿女步步踩出蓮花 此地即是蓮花國度 人若片雲從此飛越 |
Say a banished immortal briefly lighted here And like wind it passed If the deer girl took lotus steps This is the land of lotuses Like clouds we drift from here. |