北岛 《古寺》

消失的钟声
结成蛛网，在裂缝的柱子里
扩散成一圈圈年轮
没有记忆，石头
空蒙的山谷里传播回声的
石头，没有记忆
当小路绕开这里的时候
龙和怪鸟也飞走了
从房檐上带走喑哑的铃铛
荒草一年一度
生长，那么漠然
不在乎它们屈从的主人
是僧侣的布鞋，还是风
石碑残缺，上面的文字已经磨损
仿佛只有在一场大火之中
才能辨认，也许
会随着一道生者的目光
乌龟在泥土中复活
驮着沉重的秘密，爬出门槛


Ancient Temple
Bei Dao

Faded chimes
Woven into cobwebs
through the columns’ crevices,
Have proliferated into innumerable year-rings
Without memories, the stones
Transmit echoes in the valley;
The stones are without memories.
When the footpath wound away from here
The dragons and strange birds also flew,
Bearing the mute bells from the eaves
The weeds grow year by year,
Indifferent, careless whether they submit
To monks’ cloth shoes
Or the wind.
The broken steles and their worn legends
Are decipherable as if only in a consuming fire.
perhaps a glance from the living will bring
The turtles back to life
And, bearing their heavy load of secrets,
They will crawl out across the threshold.