海边的钓者

《海边的钓者》| 双一

海边有风，有羊群般

涌向岸边的白浪

他，不像有备而来的钓者

没有鱼桶，没有装鱼饵的口袋

在一起一落的浪沫里

贴着我镜头里夕阳的腹底

把鱼线甩出去，收起

再甩出去……

我在岸上变换位置

捕鱼一样

把他茕孑的身影

网入画面

夕阳烧尽怀中最后的碳

他仍然站在浪里，空空的

没有鱼，没有鱼桶

没有装鱼饵的口袋

许多年后，偶翻照片

被那渺小的持杆而立的孤影

勾住了视线，我发现一个

当时不知道的秘密——

他早就钓起了一条鱼

一条与他伶仃的身姿相仿

在时间下游望着他

空空背影的鱼

2018/08/14

The Fisherman at Seashore

By Jacob Yang

At seashore, there are winds, and flocks

of white waves rush to the shore.

He, a fisherman, does not look like prepared.

No fish barrel, no pockets for bait.

Standing in the foams surging up and down,

at the belly of the sunset in my camera lens,

he casts the rod, retrieves,

and casts again……

I switch my positions here and there on the bank,

trying to capture his lonely figure into my frame,

like catching a fish.

The sunset has burned out all the charcoals in its stomach,

and he is still standing in the waves, empty handed.

No fish, no fish barrel, no pockets for bait.

Many years later, when I open my album,

my eyes are caught by that lonely figure holding a rod.

I realize a secrete that I did not know at the time

—he has caught a fish long before,

a lonely fish with a shape similar to his, watching

his empty back, from downstream of the time.