Autumn Afternoon

By Zhang Dan

Autumn afternoon, I stood by the bronze lion outside temple gate, exactly right my childhood dress.
While blowing bubbles I was pictured. The bubbles that kept popping were the boundless world
even soft touch was forbidden. My reaction to them, dazzling for a while then shattered one after another.
A nameless stream behind the temple, getting on a boat with sunshade, and
we went boating. Now, I can't remember any other kid who rowed like me.
With the paddles moved, the boat wasn't far away, just moved ahead slowly on
golden age of it: on both sides, reeds withered and yellow, one point after another.
Things changed as time faded out, the sky inverted, birds and fish, drifted away from my life.
Not always it was, our boat was also in midstream on and off,
grabbing gunwales with one hand, playing in water with the other, and washing our feet.
In those moments, just like statues of clay, we let the world saturated our
bodies and minds. In those moments, I didn't know that the future was in ruins, even
the sensory world is an illusion. We went ashore when the stream became the abyss of misery.
Some time after, I couldn't see my silhouette in memories.
An empty autumn afternoon, stopping over there,
the time had no past, nor had it a future.
And we might vanish into thin air. It's a possible explanation,
we amused ourselves by visiting the temple.

                                        translated by Chen Zihong

秋日

张丹

秋日午后，我站在寺门前的铜狮旁，童年的衣裙正当其时。
我被拍下一张吹泡泡的照片。轻触也被禁止的大千世界
从那源源冒出。印象中它们夺目了一会儿，就相继破灭了。
寺庙背后有一条无名小河，跳上一只带篷的船，
我们就荡舟。我不记得和我一样的孩子，还有谁。
小浆起起落落，船却并没有走得十分远，只是平缓移动在
它的黄金时代：船两边，是一秒接着一秒，枯黄的芦苇。
境随时移，水中的天空，飞鸟和鱼，不断从我的生命中飘逝。
并非总是如此，我们也偶尔滞于河心，
身体吊在船舷上，手伸向水中搅动，再洗了洗脚。
那些时刻，我们像些泥菩萨，由着世界
浸进了身心。那些时刻我不知，未来已是废墟，
色竟是空。小河泛为苦海之时，我们似乎也上岸了。
其后一段时间，我在回忆中不见自己的身影。
一个空荡荡的秋日下午，停在那里，
一阵“既无过去，也无未来”的时间。
而我们会消失得那样无影无踪，是因为那天下午，
我们去了寺中游玩。