有一次我要一只鸟唱歌

它说我唱
不出来也不想唱
这不是春天

我捏著它的脖子
说
唱呀唱呀
不唱歌算什么鸟

它挣扎著
但终于没唱成

我现在想
其实鸟没错
又不是诗人
哪能一年到头
说唱就唱

但那时候我祗一心
要它唱歌
竟没注意到
春天就在我手里
微颤著
断气

ONCE I ASKED A BIRD TO SING

he said no, I can't
and I won't
it's not spring

I grasped his neck
and yelled
SING! SING!
WHAT KIND OF BIRD ARE YOU IF YOU DON'T SING
he gasped and struggled
but to the end he did not utter
one single note

I now realize
it really wasn't his fault
not being a poet
he could not sing
uninspired

but possessed by a burning passion
I insisted on his singing then and there
and did not notice in my hand
spring had expired in agony

原载: 诗天空 (第五期, 2006.2.15);
The Poetry Sky Anthology of Contemporary Chinese Poetry, 2005-2006