漂木年会

1、

胸怀敞开

阳光像大海一样打开水龙头

这时候，你务必选择一个语种

来皈依

blah, blah, blah, …

二十六个流窜犯

把大脑搅成浆糊

你也可以选择把大海当作一纸空白

洋流的边旁

岛屿的部首

需要坐多少次渡轮

你才能进入这样一种灵魂的状态

把轮船提炼成一根有血有肉的漂木

漂木提炼

成一支笔的空灵

直直落向空白

宇宙苍茫

意难平处

惟有太阳之一腔热血

哪怕彼岸遥不可及

惟有暗香飘来

2、

只有他怀抱石头沉下水底

只有你化身木头浮出水面

这是流传于湘江的巫术

巫师利用石头和木头

这样一些常见的媒介

来沟通天地鬼神

发展出来的巫语

是最接近于诗歌的

一种原始的法术

如果说巫医是中医的源头

巫师就是最早的诗人了

如果在荒漠之中

能发现一片文化的绿洲

也许可以借助于红葡萄酒

和你的鲜血

就有那么一丝的可能性

点燃第九颗太阳

利用这种超乎寻常的能量

撕开时光隧道

所谓天人合一的体验

就是你蜕变成巫师手里的媒介

我怀抱石头沉下海底

我化身木头浮出海面

3、

诗巫的诀窍

在于化身为漂木

然后献祭

将完整的象形文字

肢解成部件、边旁

更小的器官

相当于从植物纤维中

抽取血脉纹理

拆分骨髓

至简的笔画

湘水是这样一个祭坛

在诗巫的吟唱声中

一笔一画火花四溅

当古老的汉字被一块块重新铸造出炉

拼装成为一盘盘武装到牙齿的美食

香溢舌尖

怎样欢呼雀跃的

每一个细胞

让我们高举葡萄美酒

再配以诗意的酒酿圆子

神迹就被创造出来了

骨头纷纷沉入海底化作石头

血肉渐渐浮出海面重组为木头

一个头对应于一颗星

Driftwood Annual Meeting

1.

Chest wide open,

The sun turns on the faucet like the Great Ocean.

At this moment, you must choose a language

In which to take refuge.

Blah, blah, blah…

Twenty-six fugitives

Churn the brain into a thick paste.

You may also choose to treat the ocean as a blank sheet—

The ocean currents as radicals,

The islands as components of characters.

How many ferry rides must one endure

To enter such a state of soul?

To refine a steamship into a piece of driftwood with flesh and blood,

Then refine that driftwood

Into the ethereal essence of a pen,

Falling straight onto the void.

In the vastness of the cosmos,

Where indignation finds no peace,

There is only the passionate blood of the sun.

Even if the other shore remains unreachable,

Only the faint, hidden fragrance wafts through the air.

2.

Only he, embracing a stone, sinks to the riverbed;

Only you, transformed into wood, float to the surface.

This is the sorcery passed down through the Xiang River.

The shamans utilize stone and wood—

Such common mediums—

To bridge the realms of heaven, earth, ghosts, and gods.

The shamanic tongue they developed

Is the closest thing to poetry,

A primal form of magic.

If the witch-doctor is the source of Chinese medicine,

Then the shaman was the earliest poet.

If, in the heart of a wasteland,

A cultural oasis could be found,

Perhaps with the aid of red wine

And your own lifeblood,

There might be a sliver of possibility

To ignite the ninth sun.

Harnessing this extraordinary energy

To tear open the tunnels of time—

The so-called experience of "Oneness between Heaven and Man"

Is when you transfigure into the medium in the shaman’s hand.

I embrace the stone and sink to the seabed;

I become the wood and surface upon the waves.

3.

The secret of the Poet-Shaman

Lies in becoming the driftwood,

Then offering oneself as a sacrifice.

To dismember the complete pictographs

Into parts, radicals,

And even smaller organs—

It is akin to extracting veins and textures

From plant fibers,

Or dismantling bone marrow

Into the simplest of strokes.

The Xiang River is such an altar;

Amidst the chanting of the Poet-Shaman,

Every stroke and line sends sparks flying.

When ancient Han characters are recast, block by block, from the furnace,

Assembled into platters of delicacies armed to the teeth,

The fragrance overflows upon the tongue.

How every cell

Leaps and cheers!

Let us raise high the fine grape wine,

Paired with the poetic fermented rice balls ($Jiuniang Yuanzi$);

A miracle is thus created:

Bones sink one by one to the seabed, turning into stone;

Flesh and blood rise gradually to the surface, regrouping into wood.

One head corresponds to one star.