Funeral

By Zhang Dan

Beating on a gong now and again, and the Taoist priest sang dimly.
She laid down in a coffin, with musical service no more grieved.
On the path by the wall, the mint and tuberose still mingled.
As walked, we remembered her worldly life before that:
A heavy river, a game of Go that miscarried......
Right now, they were finally scattered beyond the coffin.

                                       translated by Chen Zihong

葬仪

张丹

盆锣过一会敲响一次，道士歌声暗哑。
她躺在木盒里，弦柱已没有哀声。
墙下的小路上，薄荷仍间杂着玉簪。
我们一边走一边忆起她活过的世界：
一具沉沉的河水，满盘失算的星棋……
眼下，这些总算都散放在木盒外面了。