梅绍静 《日子是什么》

日子是散落着泥土的小蒜和野葱儿
是一根蘸着水搓好的麻绳
日子是四千个沉寂的黑夜
是驴驮上木桶中撞击的水声
日子是雨天吱吱响着的杨木门轴
忽明忽暗地转动我疲惫的梦境
日子是一个含在嘴里止渴的青杏儿
是山原上烈日下背麦人的剪影
日子是那密密的像把伞似的树荫
正从我酸痛的胳膊上爬进地垅
日子是储存着清甜思绪的水罐儿
正倒出汗水和泪水来哽塞我的喉咙

What are Days?
Mei Shaojing


Days are garlic and wild scallions, still sprinkling loose dirt,
Days are newly rolled hemp ropes, still damp with water
Days are four thousand nights of deepening stillness,
The sound of water rocking in a wooden bucket on a mule's back.
Days are the revolving poplar door that squeaks on rainy days,
That keeps turning in my tired dreams, now bright, now blurred.
Days are a thirst-quenching blue plum, a papercut silhouette
Of farmers bent with grain under fierce sun on hills' plains.
Days are thick leafy shades, umbrella-like,
Skidding down my aching arms to burrow underground.
Days are water cans storing up sweet and clear thoughts,
Pouring out tears and sweat to choke my throat.