著者：陈先发  译者：梁枫

安徽教育出版社 2018年10月第1版

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本书收录诗人陈先发一九九○年至二○一一年创作的诗歌一百四十四首，分“颂九章”“秋兴九章”“杂咏九章”“寒江帖九章”“裂隙九章”“不可说九章”“茅山格物九章”“遂宁九章”“敬亭假托兼怀谢朓九章”“大别山瓜瓞之名九章”“入洞庭九章”“横琴岛九章”“叶落满坡九章”“黄钟入室九章”“脏水中的玫瑰九章”“白头鹎鸟九章”等十六组“九章”。 《九章》在题材、语言、意象上的探索，在体例结构与语体风格上的开掘，都具有原创性和典范性。《九章》的文本特征和精神气质显示了与众不同的新质素，体现了诗人自觉的诗学意识和高超的诗歌技艺。

陈先发，安徽桐城人。一九六七年十月生。一九八九年毕业于复旦大学。著有诗集《春天的死亡之书》（一九九四）、《前世》（二○○五）、《写碑之心》（二○一一）、《养鹤问题》（二○一五）、《裂隙与巨眼》（二○一六）、《写碑之心》（修订版，二○一七）、《九章》（二○一七），随笔集《黑池坝笔记》（二○一四），长篇小说《拉魂腔》（二○○六）等。曾获十月诗歌奖、十月文学奖、首届中国海南诗歌双年奖、首届袁可嘉诗歌奖、天问诗歌奖、陈子昂诗歌奖、安徽文学奖、华语文学传媒大奖等数十种。二○一八年八月，获第七届鲁迅文学奖。

梁枫，哈佛商学院工商管理硕士，世界500强企业高管。现居美国马萨诸塞州波士顿及北卡罗莱纳州凯瑞市。译有梭罗《野果》等。

稀粥颂

Ode to the Thin Congee

多年来每日一顿稀粥。在它的清淡与

For years I have a bowl of thin congee every day.Between its plainness and 

嶙峋之间，在若有若无的餐中低语之间

coarseness，between the indiscernible whispers at table

我埋头坐在桌边。听雨点击打玻璃和桉叶

I'm sitting here，looking down. Listening to the rain drops striking glass panels and eucalyptus leaves

这只是一个习惯。是的，一个漫无目的的习惯

It's just a habit. Yes，a random habit of no purpose

小时候在稀粥中我们滚铁环

With this congee，we rolled iron hoops when we were children

看飞转的陀螺发呆，躲避旷野的闷雷

stared blankly at a spinning top，and escaped muffled thunders in the wilderness

我们冒雨在荒冈筑起

In the rain we built on the desolate hill

父亲的坟头，我们继承他的习惯又

our father's tomb. We inherited his habit and then

重回这餐桌边。像溪水提在桶中

returned to this table. Like a brook now carried in a barrel

已无当年之怒——有时，我们为这种清淡发抖

it no longer has its rage of early years—Sometimes，we tremble for its plainness

这里面再无秘诀可言了？我听到雨点

So no more secret in all this? I heard，before the rain drops

击打桉叶之前，一些东西正起身离去

struck the leaves，some things were rising to leave

它映着我碗中的宽袍大袖，和

It mirrors the loose robe and voluminous sleeves in my bowl，and

渐已灰白的双鬓。我的脸。我们的脸

my graying hair at the temples. My face. Our faces

在裂帛般晚霞下弥漫的

In the diffuse narrow streets and remote alleys

偏街和小巷。我坐在这里。这清淡远在拒绝之先

like torn silk immersed in sunset glow，I am sitting here.

This plainness far precedes a rejection

寒江帖

Cold River Post

笔头烂去

Brush nib rotted

谈什么万古愁

What eonian sorrow to talk about

也不必谈什么峭壁的逻辑

No need to discuss the logics of cliffs either

都不如迎头一棒

Nothing compares to the head-on blow with a stick

我们渺小

We are insignificant

但仍会战栗

but will still shudder

这战栗穿过雪中城镇、松林、田埂一路绵延而来

This shudder sweeps through towns，pine woods and ridges in the snow

这战栗让我们得以与江水并立

elevating us to stand side by side with the river

在大水上绘下往昔的雪山和狮子。在大水上

On the vast water，draw snow mountains，lions of the past. On the vast water

绘下今日的我们：

draw ourselves of today：

一群弃婴和

a herd of deserted infants and

浪花一样无声卷起的舌头

silently twisted tongues like spindrifts

在大水上胡乱写几个斗大字

On the vast water，scribble down a few gigantic words

随它散去

Let it disperse

浩浩荡荡

immensely and infinitely

不可多得的容器

A Rare Vessel

我书房中的容器

All the vessels in my study

都是空的

are empty

几个小钵，以前种过水仙花

A few small pots，for narcissus before

有过璀璨片刻

had their glittery moments

但它们统统被清空了

but were then all purged

我在书房不舍昼夜的写作

How is my relentless writing day and night

跟这种空

related to

有什么样关系？

this emptiness?

精研眼前事物和那

My thorough examination of things in sight

不可见的恒河水

and the Ganges River out of reach

总是貌似刁钻、晦涩——

always appears tricky and obscure—

难以作答

hard to answer

我的写作和这窗缝中逼过来的

How is my writing related to that glimpse of blue sky

碧云天，有什么样关系？

pressing on towards me through the window slit?

多数时刻

Most of the time

我一无所系地抵案而眠

I lean on my desk to sleep，with no relationship whatsoever

其身如一

The Body as One

从多义性泥泞上挣脱而出

Struggling to free myself from the muddy，multiple meanings

如今我敢于置身单一之中

now I dare to stand in monosemy

单一的游动

A pure swimming

没有蛇

without a snake

单一耸动的嗅觉

A pure arousal of the sense of smell

无须花香

with no need of floral fragrance

单一光线中的蝇眼紧盯着

In a pure beam of light，a fly is gazing at

玻璃被洞穿时状态的虚无

the void when glass is penetrated

我驻足于它的

I attend to its

一无所见

seeing nothing

单一的味觉掀翻了

The pure sense of taste overthrows

压在舌尖上的

every ridge of vegetable field

每一垄菜地

that weighs on the tongue

无须那么多的名字

with no need of so many names

春枝繁茂

In the lush spring branches

湖心一亭

a pavilion stands in the lake

我坐等它们的枯竭

and I wait for it to wither

我坐等每一次的我

I wait for myself every time

在它们每一种结构中的

in every structure of it

枯竭

to wither

我未曾顺着一根新枝

I have never followed a new branch

到达过它的尽头

to its end

未曾料到在

and never predicted

这单一的

in this pure

枯竭中，明日的诸我全住在这里

withering，reside all my future identities

大河澎湃

Surging， the Mighty River

银白小鱼从河中

A little silvery fish

一跃而起

leaps out of the river

如果角度倾斜，我们看见河是直立的

Tilt the angle，we will see the river stands upright

这条鱼与河水的墙体

A fish and a wall once attached

突然被撕裂了

are suddenly torn apart

有一次我在枯草中滚动

I was once rolling in the withered grass

倒立的一刹我陡然看见

In that upside-down instant，abruptly I saw

鱼在下

a fish was at the bottom

浑黄浩荡的大河从这个

From this glittering and delicate

晶莹又柔弱的

pivot

支点上

the turbid，mighty river

一跃而起

sprang up

涌向终点

surging to its finish line

一个不可能的终点

an impossible finish line

植物志

Plants' Notes

植物和女人对触觉有

Plants and women

神奇的记忆力——

share magic memory towards touch—

一棵梨树这样叙述：

A pear tree thus describes：

第一次开花那年我

The first year when I blossomed

被一个青年僧侣冷漠的

I was touched by

头皮触碰了一下

a young monk's cold skull

有一种东西在心里

Something downy in my heart

毛茸茸地就破壳了

suddenly burst out of its shell

我记住了这个灰色背影

I've since remembered that gray figure

我把它从世间风雨

I carefully carved it out

雷电的黑白影像中

from all the black-and-white images

小心翼翼剔除出来

of wind，rain，thunder and lightning of this world

单独放在一个

and put it away separately

坛子里

in a jar

不允许任何人触碰它

allowing no one to touch it

这就是我的果实甘苦交加

That's why my fruit tastes bittersweet

味道如同秘境的来源

like a secret garden

而她，一个巴黎女画家

And she，an artist in Paris

在另一本日记中写道：

wrote in a different diary：

“二十二年了，一看到这名字

“For twenty-two years，whenever I saw this name

就记起他强韧的手指

I would recall his strong，resilient fingers

我的身体会随之空掉

Then my body would turn empty

而且，要空掉很长一段时间。”

and，stay so for a long time.”

至简之物

Objects of Extreme Simplicity

信任那些最简单的

Trust the simplest

那些最简单的形体里犹存喘息

The simplest forms and bodies still hold gasps of breath

比如这

like these

黄叶飘零

yellow leaves falling

梧桐叶。桦树叶。苦栌叶

Phoenix tree leaf. Birch leaf. Bitter nouelia leaf

头盖骨

Skull

忽明忽暗的山坳

The dim and bright valley

黄叶飘零

A yellow leaf falls

犹似教诲

still like some sort of teaching

对最简单的事物我不能直呼其名

I cannot call the simplest objects by their names

对他们所予之物我应该一饮而尽

but drink every bit of whatever they might offer

从赤壁西到岳阳东

From Chibi1 West to Yueyang East

湖水与语言的战争

The battle between the lake and the language

不会留下硝烟

won't leave a trace of gunpowder smoke

失速的车玻璃中丘陵、矮坝和

Through the speedy train's window，the hills，

湿漉漉的松林语调清凉

the dyke，and the soaked pine forest present a chilly tone

碎片式水泊像幻觉的残兵

Fragmental ponds are like remnant troops of illusion

盆地、隧洞和村庄在

The basin，the tunnel and the villages

一条白色直线上移动

all moving along a straight，white line

炊烟：一种接近消失的存在

The chimney smoke：an existence close to disappearance

视觉所示的真理宛如窗外

When our vision tells the truth，it feels

光秃秃的荒岗而偏见和

as barren and desolate as the hills outside while prejudices

命名，历来多彩如谜——

and naming are always mysteriously colorful—

我嘴唇干燥。在闪过脑际

My lips are dry. In some words flashing through

的一些词中半睡半醒

my mind I am half awake

时而与邻座的西北女子

chatting occasionally with the woman

有一句、没一句说着话

from the Northwest sitting next to me

终点站不在一处却

We are not going to the same destination but

必须紧挨着坐在一起。早餐的

have to sit closely together. The tea-boiled egg

茶叶蛋剥开了，黄色与白色的

for breakfast is cracked open，with the yolk and the white

两块是晨雾中醒目的

like a pair of striking contradictions

一对矛盾，但往往又无法归类

in the morning mist，which usually can't be classified

我们仍将在最熟悉的战场上死去

We will still die on our most familiar battlefield

广播员煮着蛋壳。车厢内

The broadcaster is boiling the eggs. Filling the carriage

飘荡着纯粹的稀粥之香

is a pure aroma of congee

我拖着拉杆箱，走出车站

I pull my luggage and walk out of the station

像任何一个幸存者那样

like any survivor

被放下。被忘记。被分解

Dropped. Forgotten. Decomposed

以病为师

Illness as Teacher

经常地，我觉得自己的语言病了

Very often，I feel my own language is ill

有些是来历不明的病

An illness of sometimes unclear origin

凝视但不必急于治愈

Give it a deep stare，but I am in no rush to heal it

因为语言的善，最终有赖它的驱动

for the kindness of language would ultimately derive from it

那么，什么是语言的善呢

But then，what is the kindness of language

它是刚剖开、香未尽的柠檬

A lemon just cut open，whose fragrance hasn't dissipated

也可能并不存在这只柠檬

Or perhaps there is not such a lemon

但我必须追踪她的不存在

Then I would have to trace her non-existence

静脉

Veins

推窗看见叶落了

Pushing the window open to see leaves falling

秋天的静脉冷而灰蓝

Cold，grayish-blue autumn veins

枯萎不是爱在远去

Withering is not love's retreat

而是爱在来临

but its arrival