It was too difficult to translate Heaney well, and the precision required, after all, he was a poet with profound linguistic and literary skills, and he described rural life so exquisitely. If you read more poems that are truly duan, you will not worship Yu Xiuhua.
Police visit
His motorcycle stood under the window,
A ring of rubber like a hat bucket
Surrounded the front fender,
Two thick handlebars
Steaming in the sun, motorized
The lever flashed, but it was closed,
The chain of pedals hangs empty,
Just removed the legal boots.
His police hat was upside down on the floor,
Leaning against the chair he sat in,
A ditch where the hat is pressed
Appeared in his sweaty hair.
He unbuckled his belt and removed it
That heavy book, my father
Counting my family's income from the fields,
Use acres, yards, and feet as units.
Arithmetic and fear.
I sat and looked at his shiny pistol holster,
The lid is tightly clasped and there is a rope
Attached to the butt of the gun.
"What other crops?"
Are there any beets, peas, etc.? ”
"Nothing." But there is no such thing as a ridge
Turnips, not planted over there
Potatoes in the field? I expected it to
Little cheat, sitting in silence thinking
The look of a black cell in the barracks.
He stood up and straightened out
The baton hook on his belt,
Covered the big ledger,
Put on the police hat with both hands,
He said goodbye and looked at me.
A shadow flashed out of the window.
He took the iron bars of the rear chassis
Press on the ledger. His boots kicked a little,
The motorcycle just beeps and beeps.
(Translated by Wang Zuoliang)
Illegal elements
Kelly raised an unlicensed bull, far from
The road is dodged: want to get there to breed the cows,
You risk penalties, but you have to pay as usual.
At one point I was dragging a nervous Frisian
Walk through the fluffy alder-lined paths,
Come to the wooden shed where the bull is kept.
I stuffed old Kelly with a slippery silver coin, why
I couldn't tell, and he muttered, "Go,
Go upstairs to that gate." High and near,
I watched this trade-like conception.
The door, latched open, when the light crashed back into the wall.
The illegal breeding stock groped out of the stables,
It's like an old locomotive that has changed tracks, like it's not slow or hurried.
He circled, snored, sniffed. No wheezing of excitement,
Only the kind businessman seems to be calm;
And then there's a clumsy and sudden leap,
His lumpy front legs straddled her crotch,
Cold as a tank, he knocked life home;
When it came down, it was like a sandbag, falling to the ground and overturning.
"She's on her way," Kelly said, tapping with a stick
Her hind legs. "If not, bring her back."
I walked in front of her, and the reins were now loose;
And Kelly yelled and poked at his outlaws:
The guy had space, went back into the shadows, and ate.
(Translated by Fu Hao)
Hang up the book and buy it, what does it mean to live without buying a book:
