I admit the monotonous days
I admit shadows left by passing years
I admit the enchantment of summer抯 starry sky over a tile roof
I admit the births, I admit the deaths
I admit naked children crawling all over an earthen wall
I admit a disconsolate note in my mother抯 laugh
Ah, I admit this was the homeland that birthed and nurtured me
Even if I go some day to elysian Shymumuhxa [1]
I will sob to return to her embrace
棗一個彝女的囈語
從火塘邊到石磨旁，
白天對於我們來說，很快
就要消失掉。然後
是爬上木梯，然後
是蜷曲著身體睡覺。
每天是這樣，
每月是這樣。
就是半夜醒來，看見
月亮和星星也迷惘。
即使我們到山下的
街上去，買回一個圓鏡，
它也照不見遠處的風景。
最好是坐在木門前，
拿一根針穿透夢，有時
也會把手刺傷，但是
這決不會打擾憂鬱的歌唱。
數不清這是多少個日子，
天亮時總要聽見公雞叫，
隻要一看見那紅黃黑的衣裳，
誰都要說：繡得真漂亮！
啊，明日就是火把節了，
在溫暖的草堆裏，影子聽見
我疲憊的骨節開始發響
WAITING
—Dream-babble of a Nuosu woman
Between the fireplace and the millstone
The daylight hours slip away
Before we know it, and then
We climb a wooden ladder, and then
We curl our bodies and sleep
Every day is like this
Every month is like this
Even while lying awake we feel lost
Watching the moon and stars
Even when we go down the mountain
Onto a street and buy ourselves a mirror
It reflects no distant scenes
It is best to sit before the wooden door
Take a needle and pass it through a dream
Sometimes we prick our hands but this
Never breaks off our moody song
Who can keep track of how many days
I have listened for the rooster抯 cry at dawn
But whoever sees this red, black and yellow dress
Will say the needlework is fine!
Ah, tomorrow is Torch Festival
Shadows in the warm straw-pile know
My weary bones have started creaking