《佛罗伦萨》
和平岛
这里的艺术气息
实在太浓郁了
浓到石头
都要大喊
大卫
还以为是在叫自己呢
我尴尬一笑
其实我去过的每一个公司、办公室
都有好几个大卫
但没一个
与米开朗琪罗有半毛关系
他的铁锤
锤出谁的名
谁就死去
在几个世纪之后
我要是不来
都不会醒来
从大理石的黑匣子里
逃出来的
只是他
肉体的复制品
很容易与太阳神阿波罗
混为一谈，谁让我们都是美男子呢
在乌菲兹美术馆溜达两个半小时
才看不到一半
馆藏的精品
冷不丁听见有人喊自己
一下子呆住
石化
像极了一件冰雕
立体的被平面化
平面的又透视到凹凸有致
这里的艺术气息
根本化不开
谁都想把我翻译成
冷翡翠
真受不了米开朗琪罗
一锤
Florence
By He Pingdao
The air of art here
is simply too thick—
so thick that even the stones
shout out:
David!
I thought they were calling me.
I gave an awkward smile.
The truth is, in every company or office I’ve visited,
there are always several Davids,
yet not a single one
has a damn thing to do with Michelangelo.
His hammer—
whosever name it strikes out,
that person dies.
Then, centuries later,
if I hadn’t come along,
they wouldn’t even wake up.
What escaped
from that black marble box
is merely
a replica of his flesh.
Easily mistaken
for Apollo the Sun God—but then again,
we are all handsome men, aren't we?
Strolling through the Uffizi for two and a half hours,
I haven’t completed even half
of the masterpieces.
Suddenly, hearing someone call my name,
I freeze,
petrified.
Like an ice sculpture,
the three-dimensional is flattened,
while the flat is rendered into perspective, curving with life.
The air of art here
refuses to dissolve.
Everyone wants to translate me
into Cold Jade.
Can't even stand
one single strike
from Michelangelo’s hammer.
