第十二章 曹牧云和江惠在苏州久别重逢
秋歌二首--致老友江惠
一
仿佛在梦中看火烈鸟燃烧一团红潮
荒原上野兔奔突，灰狐眼睛闪亮
猎犬狺狺追随弹雨的轨迹寻找
密林深处有狩猎者贪婪狂妄的目光
秋的旋律与芳香迷漫在黄昏的白桦林中
太阳将飞鸟的弧线抛给我一阵阵晕眩
那些伐木者为深深的伤痕而难以入梦
我的爱是悄悄由心底不断滴落的泪泉
曾经携带着青春之梦的熠熠光华
我们正在走向墓地走向虚无缥缈
往昔的路有如高山深谷亁枯的野花
只有你的情和我跋涉的印痕不会衰老
天长地久将是遥遥无期等待，只希望
我的梦会在你心中开花结果，永不消亡
二
久久地、久久地在秋夜的沙滩寻找
月已归去。 只有风与白鸥伴随着我
海岸恰是灵魂任意游荡的场所
没有摄像不用录音自有喁喁波涛
命运之树悬挂起一串串鲜艳果实
酸甜苦辣, 采摘者各显其能
星星在海面上闪动银色的眸子
诗人只能与浪花侈谈迟来的黄昏
仿佛一本读不透的书解不开的谜
我每夜巡访澳洲星与梦的幻境
礁石上端坐一个临海远眺的女人
既然柏拉图仍是你我心中的偶像
我无悔这横渡太平洋的飞行
只为寻找一个永不醒梦的荒唐
Autumn songs to my friend Jiang huí
（1）
As if seeing
The flamingos’ pink plumages as a dance of fire burning,
Whence the startling hare swift leaps，where the gray fox's eyes bright and hounds, barking, follow the trace of bullets;
Among tall woods, the hunter's eyes are peering.
The rhythm of the autumn the fragrance
Hung about birches in dusk darkening,
The sun throws the bird’s flying curve-lines in my dizzy images.
Of those in sleep hewers the scars they made peeped in dreams.
From my heart to you the tears of love-spring in silence growing,
So long, carry the sunny youth dreams on the road,
Till we are near a grave for the title who gives？
Beneath peaks there is the dell—the natural wildflowers dried—
As the road under my feet passed, your love refused to perish:
Be it forever as leads to bloom in the deepest recess of your mind,
A wish of my dream, never a day older grows.
（2）
Searching, so long on the beach, the autumn night,
The moon faded, flapping seagulls in the wind, the seashore
With me, fond of the free spirit of a wanderer:
The only world of the murmuring of waves but
Hung on the boughs of fortune trees the fresh rich-colored fruit
Pickers looking for in their own turn tested the sweet and sour.
The silver pupils in the sky and stars on the sea surface glitter,
Talking the later days at the dusky wave, there is a lonely poet.
As a book unreadable and a mystery unsolved but to admire,
Every night I go round the apparition of Australia starry-dreams;
At a rock near the sea, a woman straight sitting stares the far,
Since the idol of you and I Plato was and is.
Dream a dream is ceasing never：
The trip made across the Pacific Ocean I always rejoice.
