Yu Xiuhua
Translated by Cecily Chen
因为爱你，我原谅我不愿奉献的心
今夜我原谅春天过去了没有打开的花
原谅啃食花瓣的虫，原谅残缺，原谅破损
原谅偷了一个苹果的孩子，原谅他的颤抖，悔恨
原谅生下私生子的少女，原谅她的恐惧
不，不只是原谅
如果有一个面包，我要给他
如果有牛奶，我要给孩子
如果在这之外，我还有多余的爱，我要给他们
——给枯了的河床上的蚯蚓和秋风，石头和枯萎
给夜幕里，逆风行走的逃犯：不管逃债或逃婚
给打不出镰刀的铁匠，和她不安于生活而出轨的妻子
给写不出故事结尾的小说家
给一首好诗歌没有写出就已经白头的诗人
给清明
给一个个做了懦夫的勇士
给你爱过又忘记的女子，给忘记你的人们
今夜我打开自己挥毫泼墨：画山画水画人间
画一条河九曲十八弯。
也画你：你在晨曦里和在黄昏里的不同
画你穿
黑衬衫和穿白衬衫的不同
画我们遇见的时候，时间波动频率的不同
画我自己，在遇见你的时候，眉梢的不同
今夜我原谅世俗里泥泞不堪，原谅走失在人间的爱情
包括明天的我们
今夜我原谅我残疾的身体和不想奉献的心
原谅我的污垢，你的多情
原谅正在赶来爱你的女子，
并且告诉她们
我爱她们
今夜我要沐浴
然后长久沉默
because of loving you, i forgive my solipsistic heart
tonight i forgive the flowers that failed to bloom in spring
forgive the bugs that had chewed through their petals, forgive imperfection, forgive defacement
forgive the child that had stolen an apple, forgive his trembling, and his regret
forgive the young girl that bore a son out of wedlock, forgive her terror
no, not just forgive
if there were a loaf of bread, i will give it to him
if there were milk, i will give it to the child
if, beyond all of this, i still have an excess of love, i will give it all to them
—to the earthworms resting atop dried-up riverbeds and the gusts of autumnal wind, the stones and the decay
to the fugitive that, in the dead of night, treads a precarious path: to escape debt or marriage, it does not matter
to the blacksmith that never learns how to forge a sickle, and his wife, dissatisfied with life and desirous of other lovers
to the novelist that never finishes the end of a story
to the poet that starts going grey before writing even one good poem
to the first light in the morning
to all the fearless warriors that eventually end up a coward
to the woman that you had once loved and then forgotten, and to the people that had forgotten you
tonight i throw myself into a whirl of ink wash with abandon: painting mountains and bodies of water and also the world
painting a sinuous river that meanders endlessly into the distance
painting you, as well: the difference in you between dusk and dawn
painting the difference in you
when dressed in a black shirt or white
painting the difference in temporal vibrations in the instance that we had met
painting myself, the difference in my own countenance in the instance that i met you
tonight i forgive the wretched hypocrisy of propriety, forgive love, which had lost its way while wandering through the earth
and the “we” of tomorrow
tonight i forgive my disabled body and my solipsistic heart
forgive my filth, your wandering eye
forgive the women that rush over just to love you, and tell them
i love them
tonight i will bathe
and fall into eternal silence
Yu Xiuhua (1976~) is a Chinese poet residing in the small village of Hengdian, Hubei Province. Born with cerebral palsy, she started writing poetry in 1998, and has since published multiple collections of poetry and personal essays.
Cecily Chen is a PhD student in English literature and gender and sexuality studies at the University of Chicago. Her work focuses on fucked up Chinese women and bad sex. When she isn’t pampering her cat, Colette, she also edits poetry for Chicago Review.