我是無名河 

歲月  在淺淺的河床上奔波

留給地圖的  卻往往是省略

短短的麯綫  構不成激動人心的畫圖

平緩的行吟  留不下磅礴激越的詩歌

沒有造訪  沒有和聲  更沒有

黃河那衝决三門  一瀉千裏的氣魄

衹有汗珠般璀璨的太陽

隨着我從石隙間滾出

又隨着我滲入沙漠

——我是無名河

也許命運註定  我幹不成轟轟烈烈的事業

甚至沒有成功   終生奮鬥也衝不出沙漠

就像這小草  衹能在希望的河邊生長

就像這星光  衹能在夢幻的海上閃爍

平凡  微小  也許是我永恆的主旋律

沒有名字  沒有記憶   更不會有

為我打開的輝煌的史册

衹有純貞的熱情永不消失

成為戈壁荒灘上沙礫和風景的作者

——我是無名河

涓涓細流  衹能多幾道麯折

纔可穿過這起伏的沙丘和溝壑

既然我的使命已經從腳下開始

我就不會停留  我就不會喑啞

露珠和牧草  會承認我的開拓

即使等待的   仍將是蒸發

我也要變成雲  我也要變成雨

再播灑進這片需要我獻身的曠野

——我是無名河

無名  並不是我的過錯

既然歷史已把我列入河的傢族

我就應當奔流  我就應當放歌

就應當用每一滴水

去擴大緑樹的篷帳和春草的視野

衹要有希望  就會有力量

衹要去奮爭  就會有結果

於是  我讓水流和着駝鈴在風沙中奔走

日夜不停的  是一支唱給大海的歌

——我是無名河

1982年12月16日

《天津青年報》1985年7月13日

I Am a Nameless River

Years, flow on the shallow river bed,

Omission, is what often left on the map.

Stirring pictures, cannot be drawn by short curves;

Powerful poems, cannot be sung by slow whispers.

Without company, without harmony,

Let alone the courage of the Yellow River

To burst the Dam of Three Gate Gorge, to run on thousands of miles;

Only the sun shining as beads of sweat

Accompanies me, as I roll out of the stone cracks;

Accompanies me, as I seep into the desert sands.

—I Am a Nameless River

Maybe it is my destiny, that I will never accomplish a magnificent career,

That I will never succeed, escaping from the desert after lifelong struggles;

Just like the grass growing, merely by the river of Hope,

Just like the stars twinkling, merely in the sea of Dreams.

Maybe it is my musical theme, that I will remain ordinary and tiny eternally;

Without name, without memory, let alone

The annals of glorious history opened for me;

Only the ardor of purity will never extinguish,

To be the author of the sand and scenery of desert and wasteland.

—I Am a Nameless River

The trickling stream, only with more twists and turns,  

Can traverse the undulating dunes and gullies;

Now that my journey has begun from beneath my feet,

I will not stop running, I will not stop singing.

Even if Evaporation, ever awaits for me ahead,

I still yearn to be the clouds, I still yearn to be the rain,

To plunge myself into the fields that need my devotion;

Dewdrops and pasture grass, will remember my pioneering.

—I Am a Nameless River

Being nameless, is not my fault;

Since I have been listed in the river family by History,

I am supposed to flow, I am supposed to sing;

I am supposed to use every drop of water,

To enlarge the canopy of trees and broaden the horizon of spring grass.

As long as there is faith, there will be strength;

As long as there are efforts, there will be rewards.

So I let the streams flow through the wind and sand, day and night,

In tune with the Camel Bells, singing the songs of praise to the Sea.

—I Am a Nameless River

Written on December 16, 1982

Carried on Tianjin Youth Daily, July 13, 1985

Notes：

①Yellow River, principal river of northern China, is often called the cradle of Chinese civilization; with a length of 3,395 miles (5,464 km), it is the country’s second longest river.

② Dam of Three Gate Gorge (Sanmenxia Dam) is the largest dam built on the Yellow River; the three gates refer to the three gorges on the Yellow River, “Gate of Human,” “Gate of God” and “Gate of Ghost.” 

漁村公墓

走過這裏 便會久久地伫立

把視綫遠遠地拋擲

聳立的浪 以凝固的姿態

分割出鋸齒狀的藍天

暴露一個偈語般的神秘

這裏 是海和漁村間的灘地

漁民死了 就在這裏舉行葬禮

一口木棺 幾抔鹹泥

濃濃的海腥味 才能

使這些高傲而不安的靈魂安息

每一個沉重的棺頭

都朝嚮海

朝嚮涌浪

朝嚮魚群

朝嚮白帆的軌跡

喧嘩的海水 會把一切遺憾

都變成生命完美的結局

海嘯 每年一次地掠過墳頭

瘋狂的手指扒開泥土扒開棺板

使這裏低窪使這裏像海

使這裏擁有海的一切神秘

親吻這些屬於海的靈魂吧

欲望像愛 充滿神秘的魔力

雖然 並非每一座墳頭

都擁有墳墓完整的涵義

幾件衣冠 不也代表

那早已奉獻給海的精神和軀體

每塊肌肉 每條骨骼

都是為海所生

即使死了 也要讓魚

變得肥美 變得親昵

三兩老翁 一輪落日

釣綫總是沉沉地綳直

卻釣不起這無邊的空曠和肅穆

他們已經習慣

就這樣平平常常地生活

就這樣平平常常地死去

衹有那些遠方來觀海的大學生們

對這一切不住地嘖嘆和驚奇

衹有關於海關於漁民的無數傳說

像身邊丟落的一堆堆煙頭

開成黃黃的矢車菊……

1985.6.天津東沽  

《黃河詩報》1986年1月號

The Cemetery of Fishing Village

I walk down here, standing for a long time,

Staring into the distance.

The zigzag blue sky is carved out,

By the stiff towering waves, in an upright posture,

Unraveling the mystery of a Buddhist chant.

Here is the beach, between the fishing village and the sea;

Here funerals are held, when the fishermen pass away.

Only several glasses of salty mud and wooden coffins, 

With the strong smell of the sea, can rest

These stubborn and restless souls.

Every heavy head of the coffins

Turns towards the sea,

Towards the surging waves,

Towards the shoals of fish,

Towards the trails of white sails.

The roaring waves, will turn every regret,

Into a perfect ending of Life.

Once a year, tidal waves sweep over the tombs,

Crazily parting the mud and tearing off the coffin planks with their fingers,

Making here low-lying and making here like the sea,

Bringing here all the mysteries of the sea,

Kissing these souls that belong to the sea.

Similar to Love, Desire is full of magic and mystery.

Although, not all graves 

Are with the complete meaning of tomb,

Several garments and hats, are still on behalf of

The spirits and bodies having been dedicated to the sea.

Every muscle, and every bone of the fishermen

Are born for the sea.

Even if they are dead,

They still endeavor to make fish plumper

And more delicious, in a different way.

Two or three old men, a setting sun.

The fishing lines are always heavy and straight,

Yet they have never fished out the boundless emptiness and solemnity.

These old men have been used to

Simply leading a normal life,

Simply dying a normal death.

Here are only college students who come to watch the sea from afar,

Who marvel at all things here and gasp with admiration;

Here are only countless legends about the sea and fishermen,

Like the piles of cigarette butts thrown everywhere

Blooming as yellow Cornflowers...

June, 1985, Donggu, Tianjin

Carried on Yellow River Poetry Daily, January, 1986

孤馬

風凝固成山了

山 凝固成你

你站立成山頂一塊突兀的岩石

目光起伏成連綿的草坡

草坡 是野馬群的村落

你漠然地看着山下

草灘如浪

羊們牛們馬們悠然遊動如歌

尾巴為了蠅子們的熱戀而舞之

蹄腳為了水草的豐美而蹈之

乳頭晃動如雲

留下一片片白蘑菇的倒影

雄性的風暴 不時地掠過

草原上的金蓮花一茬茬盛開

成了洪水 成了漩渦

無世紀無朝代無年月的故事

永恆地流過 流成一條條季節河

高原依然寂寞

草灘寂靜如死

山峰冰冷似鐵

殘陽涌動 如一汪污血

遠天模糊 地平綫散淡成煙靄

你目光默然而痛苦

頭顱沉重 墜成彎月

猛然如弓彈起

你仰天長嘯嘯聲如雷

撕裂一身鬃毛抖落幾世霜雪

願天薄如紙願路明像河

願長嘯之後再不會空落

你屬於野馬群的後裔

你不過一匹生馬客

沒有鞍韉

沒有轡頭

沒有繩索

甚至不必站立山頂

讓孤獨的痛苦把你淹沒

你也許仍得老成一匹野馬

衹屬於某一片荒寂的山地或草坡

無論悠然無論焦灼

無論痛苦無論歡樂

你都無法追回歲月改變歲月

你卻依然伫立 依然渴望

渴望戰陣  渴望廝殺

甚至渴望——

有一道鞭影

有一陣馬刺

或者 有一挂大車

讓鞭痕深深讓刺痛徹骨讓車轅重壓

讓你的靈魂沉重地復活

復活得大唱大笑 笑聲如歌

歌聲使太陽雄壯地起落

也許 暗夜就將帶你去了

夕陽墜成的銅鈴不再在你頸項間挂着

轟然成殺聲轟然成號鼓轟然成熱血

都不過是你伫立山頂的幻覺

草灘消失 馬群消失

星星隔得太遠 勾不出目光的輪廓

你卻依然倔強地站立

站立成岩石 站立成雕像

站立成一麯

轟響震蕩了千百年的大風歌

讓痛苦而高傲的孤獨

沉雷般從這片草原上憂鬱地滾過

使遠方的牧人從這裏歸去

便再不敢安睡得昏昏噩噩

1986.7.多倫到渾善達剋沙地

《天津文學》

A Solitary Horse 

Winds have solidified into mountains;

The mountains, have solidified into you;

You stand like a rock on the top of the mountain.

Undulating grassy slopes, the villages of wild horses,

Grass fields become a vast expanse of green stretching to infinity.

You cast an indifferent downhill look:

The grass is waving in the wind;

The carefree cattle, horses and sheep swim like melodies,

Rejoicing in the love with flies, their tails dancing;  

Celebrating the richness of weed, their feet dancing;

Staring at white mushrooms and their images in the water,

Their nipples shaking like clouds.

Masculine storms sweep over, from time to time.

Golden Globeflowers bloom in the grassland one after another,

Blooming as a flood, blooming as whirlpools.

The stories forgotten for years, dynasties and centuries

Flow through Eternity, like hundreds of seasonal streams.

The plateau still lies there alone,

The grassland as silent as death,

The mountains as cold as steel.

The setting sun surges, like the stained pool of blood;

The distant sky blurs, vanishing into the haze near the horizon.

Your eyes silent and painful,

Your head bent heavily, like the crescent moon,

You plunge and rear all of a sudden;

You jerk your head up and cry into the air like thundering;

You toss your mane and shake off the snow of centuries.

May the sky be as thin as paper and the road as bright as a river;

May the loud cry never end and never fade into emptiness.

You are the descendant of wild horses;

You are the solitary horse without an owner,

Without a saddle,

Without a bridle,

Without a rope;

You stand on the top of the mountain,

Let yourself be drowned in the agony of loneliness.

You have grown into an old wild horse,

Only belonging to the desolate hill and grassy slope.

No matter how carefree or anxious you have been,

No matter how painful or joyful you have been,

You can never turn back time to the good old days.

Yet you still stand and still yearn,

Yearning to battle and fight again;

Yearning for—

The shadow of whips,

The push of spurs,

Or the rumble of large chariots.

Let the whips hit faster, let the spurs push harder,

Let the chariots rumble longer,

To bring you back to life with a brand new soul;

Let your new soul laugh like singing and sing like laughing;

Let the sun rise and set majestically with the songs and laughter.

Maybe the dark night will take you away;

You will no more wear the bronze bells of setting sun around your neck.

You stand on the top of the mountain alone with your illusions,

The roar of killing, the roar of drumming and the roar of burning blood.

The grassland disappeared, the horses disappeared;

The stars are too far to draw the outline of their eyes.

Yet you still stand stubbornly,

Standing like a rock, standing like a statue,

Standing like a song

About the gales that have been howling for thousands of years;

Let the pain and pride of solitariness

Thunder across the grassland gloomily;

Let the shepherds dare no more to sleep one night here,

Rushing back to their distant home.

July, 1986. From Duolun to Otindag Sandy Land, Inner Mongolia

Carried on Tianjin Literature

斜屋

陽光扭麯着進來

窗子開得很怪

上午十點  樓下小店鋪的門

準時被客人打開

樓梯旋轉了很久

你的連衣裙旋轉了很久

我的快要傾倒的門旋轉了很久

終於 陽光斜斜地進來

房間很小  

盛不下長久的等待

你的連衣裙很小

幽幽的藍眼睛是夜晚的光彩

我的心很小

怎麽也想不起那些空洞的表白

我把房間和心都放在盤子裏

讓一陣甜蜜的惶恐啜成葡萄

任你隨心所欲

為我係好斜斜的領帶

窗外的世界很大很大

我們卻無法穿過這小小的斜屋

走上陽臺

         1987．9．1．

     原發於《天津文學》1990年2月號

The Inclined House

The sunshine slants in;

The window opens in an odd way.

The door of the small shop downstairs, is opened by guests

Exactly at ten in the morning.

The stairs have been whirling for a long time;

Your long dress has been whirling for a long time;

My nearly fallen door has been whirling for a long time;

Finally, the sunshine slants in.

The room is too small

To be filled with a long wait;

Your dress is small too,

Your blue eyes faintly glowing in the dark night;

My heart is too small

To be filled with those empty confessions of love.

I put the room and my heart on a plate,

To be soaked as grapes in sweet timidness.

I let you adjust my slanting tie

As you wish.

The world outside the window is very, very big,

Yet we cannot walk across this tiny, tiny inclined house

To step onto the balcony.

Originally Carried on Tianjin LiteratureSeptember 1, 1987

風蝕城

     ——西行記事

羌笛在這裏吹了很久

吹大漠孤煙吹斜陽殘月

而野駱駝仍然步履匆匆

成為時間蒼老的過客

戈壁灘在時間中深深沉淪

一片黃土雕塑

使視綫野性而樸拙

祁連山上有常常消融的積雪

大戈壁上有常常颳風的寂寞

常常消融的積雪裏

可聽洪水咆哮的黃鐘大呂

常常颳風的寂寞裏

可聞古人徵戰的浩歌鼓角

常常泛濫的季節河一律嚮北

毀滅和新生的故事相互泛濫

在荒涼的石灘上瘋狂地切割

這裏的季節河都是內流河

就像性格內嚮的西北漢子

即使發瘋時也不對海訴說

這裏的城池無須磚石堆壘

黃土夯夯打打亦便堅如鋼鐵

任風任雨摧摧打打

仍然站穩了這千秋歲月

衹有城池的內容沉默不語

由你在這裏徘徊

由你在這裏撫摸

由你想那曾有的呦呦鹿鳴

由你想那曾有的亭臺樓閣

由你想那生生不息的母愛親情

由你想那人類再次的繁衍滅絶

每一座圓雕般的土柱墻垣

都有颶風般冷峻的目光

從你的骨髓間幽幽地穿過

風蝕了你的想象

風蝕了你的思索

就連最大膽的牽駝人

也從不敢在這裏宿夜

      1988．4．嘉峪關至陽關

      《天津日報》1990年5月23日

The Wild-Erosion Cities

—On the Westward Journey in Gansu, China

Melodies have been floating through the Qiang flute for a long time,

Floating towards the desolate desert and lonely smoke,

Floating towards the setting sun and waning moon.

Wild camels have been travelling enormous distance in haste,

Travelling as old passers-by on the journey of time;

Time has been sinking deeply into the Gobi desert.

Pieces of sculptures made of brown dust

Are dotted in the wild and simple scene.

A blanket of snow on the Qilian Mountains melts perpetually;

Solitary strong winds in the Gobi Desert whistle perpetually.

I hear the resonant sound of roaring flood and ringing bell

In the melting snow perpetually;

I hear the resonant sound of drums and horns from ancient battles

In the whistling winds perpetually.

The seasonal rivers in frequent flood flow northward together,

Cutting the rocks and pebbles on the bleak beach frenziedly,

The stories of death and rebirth alternating with each other.

All the seasonal rivers here are inland ones,

As introverted as the men from northwest China;

Even when they are in a temper, they will not lash out at the sea.

Without the contribution of bricks or stones,

The wild-erosion cities are built with brown dust;

Battered and washed by the wild wind and heavy rain,

They stand firm for thousands of years as steel and iron.

Yet the cities keep everything inside and stay silent,

Letting you wander around the streets;

Letting you caress every wall of them;

Letting you wonder about the bleating sheep and deer that once lived;

Letting you wonder about the pavilions and terraces that once existed;

Letting you wonder about the endless love of all mothers and siblings;

Letting you wonder about the endless circle of human birth and death.

Every wall and column made of brown dust

Cast a deadly look like a biting wind against you,

Chilling you to every marrow of your bones.

Your imagination has been eroded by the wind;

Your contemplation has been eroded by the wind.

Even the boldest man who travels with the camels

Is not bold enough to spend one night in these cities.

April, 1988, from Jiayuguan Pass to Yangguan Pass, Gansu Province

Carried on Tianjin Daily, May 23, 1990

Notes:

① Qiang flute is an ancient single-reed gas singing instrument in China with a history of more than 2000 years.

②Qilian Mountains is a rugged mountain range on the border of Qinghai and Gansu provinces, west-central China. 

③ Gobi Desert is a great desert and semidesert region of Central Asia. The Gobi (from Mongolian gobi, meaning “waterless place”) stretches across huge portions of both Mongolia and China.

重訪咖啡屋

屋裏的燈光很熟悉

橘紅色的浪漫重新把你洗滌

火車座很熟悉

文學沙竜的朋友們總在這裏相聚

吧臺很熟悉

賣咖啡的女孩常把你默默註視

爐臺上的咖啡壺很熟悉

濃濃的黑咖啡曾使人忘乎所以

太熟悉的空間裏  你沒有一個朋友

周圍熟悉的目光

都在非常陌生地看你

你對咖啡女孩莫名地發火

看看那美麗的臉龐驚恐失色

卻記不起她的名字

加糖加奶當然還要加酒

滴滴香濃意猶未盡

廣告語言忽然使你心緒頓失

喝咖啡的人們不是尋找新的話題

咖啡屋不過幾年已經老了

卡拉OK比文學沙竜更有名氣

桌上的咖啡壺如一架旋轉的日晷

繽紛的液體從杯子裏出出進進

卻已經找不回過去的日子

皺紋奇怪地伸縮

常常聯想起了皮的奶子

朋友們紛紛在說 咖啡屋太小了

喝着咖啡聊天總感覺有個框子

火車座太高了 靈魂流浪過整條大街

仍然越不過感情的距離

黑咖啡太苦了 加了那麽多佐料

常常懷疑如今的文學不過如此

天亮之前 朋友們紛紛告別

在告別的時刻忽然醒悟

屬於咖啡屋的那些夜晚

不一定是回憶錄中的空白

將來再喝起咖啡 可以嚮孩子們

講講那些現在不得不忘卻的故事

         1989．3．16．

The Coffee House Revisited

The light in the room is very familiar to you;

The orange romance refreshes your memory repeatedly.

The booths are very familiar to you;

The friends of Literary Salon used to meet here.

The bar is very familiar to you;

The girl who serves coffee used to watch you in silence.

The coffee pots on the stove are very familiar to you;

The visitors used to immerse themselves in bitter black coffee.

Any friend is not with you, in the too familiar space;

All strangers around cast a familiar look

At you in a strange way.

You get angry at the coffee girl for no reason;

You stare at her beautiful frightened face,

Her name having escaped you for the moment.

A cup of coffee with sugar, milk, and, of course, wine,

“Every drop tasted, savored, and still lingering on your lips;”

The words in the advertisement suddenly upset you.

Coffee drinkers do not look for new topics any more.

The coffee house has grown old only over a few years;

Karaoke has been better known than Literary Salon.

The coffee pot on the table revolves like a sundial;

The cups are emptied and filled with colorful liquid again and again,  

Yet they can never turn back time to the good old days.

The surface of coffee is strangely cleft with lines,

Which often reminds you of the skin of breasts.

“The coffee house is too small,” always complain the friends;

They feel shackled all the time when chatting over coffee.

“The booths stand too high.” Souls aimlessly wander around the streets;

They can never traverse the bridge of romantic relationships.

“Black coffee tastes too bitter,” with so many ingredients;

They doubt that the present literature is nothing more than this.

The friends bid farewell one after another before the dawn;

At the moment of parting, they are in for a rude awakening:

Those nights spent in the coffee house

Are not necessarily blank pages in their life memoirs;

Those stories born in the coffee house, which have to be forgotten now, 

Possibly will be told to their children over coffee some day.

March 16, 1989

盤古爺

盤古爺是開天的爺

盤古爺是闢地的爺

盤古爺開天闢地把那混沌打破

是為了後代不再糊裏糊塗地活着

盤古爺是人之祖

盤古爺是人之父

盤古爺沿着黃河留下子孫千千萬

是為了後代不再糊裏糊塗地活着

盤古爺是沒有傢的爺

盤古爺是沒有廟的爺

盤古爺浪跡天下不停地走啊

是為了後代不再糊裏糊塗地活着

盤古爺流出了血

盤古爺燒起了火

盤古爺把歲月寫成血與火的歷史

是為了後代不再糊裏糊塗地活着

  1989年 4月 河北青縣盤古村

 《天津文學》1990年2月

Lord Pang Gu

Lord Pang Gu was the creator of the heaven;

Lord Pang Gu was the creator of the earth;

Lord Pang Gu separated the heaven and earth to end the chaos,

So that the future generations would no longer live in disorder and foolishness.

Lord Pang Gu was the ancestor of human beings;

Lord Pang Gu was the father of human beings;

Lord Pang Gu left thousands of his descendants along the Yellow River,

So that the future generations would no longer live in disorder and foolishness.

Lord Pang Gu was the lord of no family;

Lord Pang Gu was the lord of no temple;

Lord Pang Gu kept walking and wandering around the world, 

So that the future generations would no longer live in disorder and foolishness.

Lord Pang Gu shed his blood;

Lord Pang Gu started a big fire;

Lord Pang Gu wrote the history of Blood and Fire by Years,

So that the future generations would no longer live in disorder and foolishness.

April, 1989, Pang Gu Village, Qingxian County, Hebei Province

Carried on Tianjin Literature, February, 1990

Notes:

① Pan Gu, a figure in Chinese Daoist legend of creation, was the first man that came forth from chaos. Some accounts in China credited him with the separation of heaven and earth, setting the sun, moon, stars, and planets in place, and dividing the four seas.

樓上的房間

落滿灰塵的角落裏

是誰  彈響那把竪琴

你何必，讓往事

再紛紛揚揚地飛起呢

如果不往下看

你找不到我的房間

你給過我的 那些

丁丁當當的聲音呢

我找不到鑰匙，開你那扇門

當樹蒼老的時候，季節不老

當山蒼老的時候，水依然流動

當水流動的時候

魚和水草互稱生命

衹有時間死了

在你的琴聲裏

衹有我死了

在那些灰塵下面

       1990．8．13．

     發表於《天津文學》1991年12期

The Room Upstairs

Who is it, that plays the harp

In the dusty corner?

Why should you, let the past memories

Flood and flood back again?

If you do not look down,

You cannot find my room.

The tinkle and jingle, that you gave me,

Where are them now?

I cannot find the key, to open your door.

When trees are old, seasons are still young;

When mountains are old, rivers still flow;

When the rivers are flowing,

Fish and weed call each other Life.

Only time is dead,

In the tune of your piano;

Only I am dead,

In that dusty corner.

August 13, 1990.

Carried on Tianjin Literature, Issue 12, 1991

威海觀海

可以想象你的深厚

卻無法明晰你的內心

可以體味你的溫柔

卻無法承受你的激情

以俯視的目光看你

是我的悲哀

以仰視的目光看我

是你的悲哀

融為一體的快樂如此神聖

卻終於無法逾越現實的斷層

站在夜的邊緣聽潮漲潮落

是真誠的靈魂使海永恆

1991.7. 29.天津作協文學院詩歌夏令營

《今晚報》1992年1月28日

Watch the Sea in Weihai

I can imagine your depth,

Yet I fail to perceive your heart;

I can appreciate your tenderness,

Yet I fail to bear your fervor.

It is my sorrow

To look down on you;

It is your sorrow

To look up at me.

The joy of being One is so sacred,

Yet I finally fail to cross the line between reality and the sea.

I stand at the edge of the night listening to 

The flood and ebb tides alternating with each other,

Thinking, it is the sincere souls that make the sea eternal.

July 29, 1991. The Poetry Summer Camp of the College of Arts in Tianjin Writers’ Association

Carried on Evening News, January 28, 1992

Notes:

① Weihai, a port city in eastern Shandong province, eastern China, lies on the north coast of the Shandong Peninsula.

感謝生活

我感謝生活

為了春天這一個乍暖還寒的季節

冰雪  孕育了陽春

痛苦  孕育了歡樂

邪惡  孕育了美好

善良  戰勝了暴虐

我感謝生活

為了被彈雨洞穿的歲月

從血染的旗幟上認識歷史

在敞開的國門外深深思索

在崎嶇的山路上學會行走

從平民的心靈中徹悟詩歌

作為一個詩人

我感謝生活

我感謝生活

為了生活中那些感情的折磨

為了愛  需要不愛

為了恨  需要笑着

為了真誠  需要學會欺騙

為了自由  需要一條又一條繩索

作為一個詩人

我感謝生活

我感謝生活

為了那些活潑的靈魂開成美麗的花朵

莊稼  要感謝土地

河流  要感謝溝壑

果實  要感謝花蕾

成功  要感謝挫折

作為一個詩人

我感謝生活

我感謝生活

因為生活給予我的

實在太多太多

1992.2.19.

發表於《城市人》雜志1992年第三期

收入作傢出版社1998年7月中國詩人自選叢書《若夫詩選》  

《中國詩人》報1998年10月20日轉載

《天津新詩選編》（1917-2016）中英文版.五洲傳播出版社2016年2月出版

I Am Grateful to Life

I am grateful to Life,

For Spring, a season turning coldness into warmth.

Snow, gives birth to Sunshine;

Pain, gives birth to Joy;

Evilness, gives birth to Goodness;

Kindness, triumphs over Violence.

I am grateful to Life,

For those years shot through by raining bullets.

I understand history from the blood-stained flag;

I think deeply outside the open gate of my country;

I learn to walk on the rough mountain tracks;

I understand poetry thoroughly from ordinary people’s hearts.

As a poet,

I am grateful to Life.

I am grateful to Life,

For those torment of complicated emotions.

Do not love, in order to love;

Keep smiling, in order to hate;

Learn to cheat, in order to be honest;

Use one rope after another, in order to be free.

As a poet,

I am grateful to Life.

I am grateful to Life,

For those lively souls blooming as beautiful flowers.

Crops, give thanks to the earth;

Rivers, give thanks to the gullies;

Fruit, gives thanks to the buds;

Success, gives thanks to the setbacks.

As a poet,

I am grateful to Life.

I am grateful to Life,

For Life has given me

So many things, so many.

February 19, 1992

Carried on the third issue of City Man, 1992

Carried on Selected Poems of Ruofu, a series of collections of poems of Chinese poets, by Writers’ Publishing House, July, 1998

Carried on Chinese Poets Daily on October 20, 1998

Carried on Selected Poems of Tianjin Poets (1917-2016) in English and Chinese, by Five Continents Communication Press in February, 2016