逺去的羣山 Distancing Mountains
Daylight is fading away, fuzzy-edging shadows
Of the dusk make animals on the earth stopped daily
Hard workings to rest, but alone with double struggles
I am ready to keep on the journey,
And bear the pity within it: this
Lore well-shaped would be given by my clear memory.
An uprooted wanderer without any border
In the Yi-Meng Mountains
The moon bright and stars have been thin; all
The mountains ragged make fancy within it.
See skywards the casted wild road of a waterfall
On the peak of the mountain—of my being that
Is a cornered condition: With silver dots flashing,
Rippling like a will-o'-the-wisp, dancing
Upwards the peaks
The skylines of hills the waving length endless；
The vague dreams fancying alternated with real ones.
A gray-haired man with a Sophora japonica stick
Over the precipice and stone shoots,
In a walking tour to a grave of the whistling autumn-wind
Of the lonesome earth, which surrounded by the low bushes
And wasted land of grasses. He bends to memory dear:
His wife with him in her eyes.
In the world as a qualified old solder
He is a tramp of the war to resist the U.S. and aid North Korea;
Now He kneels down in front of the gloomy grave,
The bitter earth so cold touching his palms, the tears
Streaming down mutely hot on his cheeks.
Where could be found those fragments
Of Time while have hurriedly gone the forty years?
Emotion-burning young blood flowed through their vein-valves,
Many soldiers trod the never-cleared way across the war field,
Disappeared in a split-second, without a trace,
Left their promise for dating again In the Shen-City
They departed from, forty years since.
His wise face in the stream of life withered
As a rock erected
On seashore with carved traces
Of knocking swells beneath the days
Of black suns and dark moons，
When the storms and lightings
Of life still could not strike down the thick frowning brows
Of him and his big dark hot eyes
Keep used to laughing with the rich
And yet in the calm rhymes
And patrol the floating gray skies.
He was the major character of
This true story, now named Cao Mu-Yun as one of
The correspondents of the Chinese army news-paper
That time; in the fighting front with death and live nearby,
He had fallen in love with a mountain-girl, Yang Yi-pin,
An actress who was well-known in
The Chinese Army-cultural Troupe.
They had seen each other in love’s eye in
a glimpse of war fire；But the fortune
Put a false construction on
Owes of their all outcast life.
Sitting on the top of the grave, a few crows
Fascinated the noisy cries; and the hazes
Fluttering the sense of the pale Asian dusk.
He, Cao Mu-Yun, in front of the grave murmured,
And the flowing of a valley-stream with signals never-tired.
“Dear, you are, so lying down in the depth
of the deepest earth,
Being my bosom love in the dreamless age;
Now I come to see you in this place through thousands of miles
But you've kept sleeping in the silence of years.
I do want to wake you up over and over again，
Ask you and myself where is
The floating impresses of our love the wings of hope on?
“Being held beneath the hometown's soft earth
Still and low without nipping and eager airs
in the shade of beech in the valley；
In front of the sunburn Meng-Liang hills，
And at the end of the narrow path familiar to our childhoods：
Do you hear that：after the rains of bullets
fell down the earth and the hate burned buried，
Left the Mountains in silence and hill-wind sounding of cloudy-fog of moo-moo of a single horn yellow-cow and
The Chinese francolins and hill-magpies
Chasing after through the woods are chatting in the wind.
“Come to you and stand your side,
I have through a half-century walked in this earth
For my day of returning and, under my feet
There is a half-circle of the mountains and silent rivers
on the other horizon；
Come to you and stand your side,
Sharing with your vow your dream.
And nor could I forget the scars carved
On your storm-tossed heart
That could never be cured.
That takes me lands away wandering on the world
To my native shore,
I am alone drifter of the true spirit
As a duck-weed on wild current.
“Always remember the vows of you and me
—The song of it sung within my heart:
《Wait to me》,
Always keep waiting for me.
Far away， the noisy world to put
And return to our homeland,
Re-cast our souls along with the Yi-Meng Mountainside...
“When I stand here taking every breath
With the green mountains,
I touch the air I feel the wind that with
The smell of you seem not so long ago,
And, hear the sounds of a distancing song.
“Why you say nothing at all or even give me one word?
Instead of bearing that all is against all odds?
“So many years so many a time，
Hold your cold hands in my dream
Still sharing no word;
As if we had wandered on an icy-snowy road.
This world that lost its sun into the void
The lips broke and
The proud hearts shrinking
Barely stop the tears dropping;
The two retired soldiers are reaching
But left alone in the silence of an odd wild
There is no other way chosen allowed.
“Even a sea can dry
Turned to dust,
As time goes by,
Never have lines on its faces of our vows hot.
Yet the bodies getting old,
In the hearts the scars still fresh-true.
And then, like the time for forgetting steals over the earth
The war and the yesterdays of the memories，
Are be wrapped up in the lays of blood-soaking tears.
“Yi-Pin, the world around us so eerie with savage delight
Is there someone who could peer through its thick mask?
What is the meaning of revolution and true love for what?
The questions you asked carved on my heart.
Through the burning fire of war, through the life of the Peace;
Walked on the circling circles unlimited of virtue and vice
That as many a trap flashing as the young spring gives
Deplete the whole life of believers.
“Behind the bars, there were the sleepless nights;
At the labor camp, the snowy chills put aside all yearnings
Which, waked up every time from a nightmare, always
Touched at a sore point of my soul-depth.
Through the terrible muse of the night your eyes
Peering strictly at me hopelessly with
A sea of sorrows and full of doubts
As if asking what is
The meaning of the Revolutions
And the core of true love is?
“The dusk -fogs spreading around,
While I turn around
Watching the soundless steep hill-tops,
Those dotted low inconspicuous bushes
And thick sour jujube trees in which
There have been buried your childhood's dreams
And your cool smells of youth
have accumulated，also bearing the voice
Of a distancing song fades.
“Dear, so lying down in
The depth of the deepest earth,
As my bosom love in
The age dreamless;
Your soul and piles of hope never die,
And it must be homing in the roman trees’ blooms.
Cao Mu-yun he, so fainted,
Falls on the grave-top of his wife's
Within a lot of nightmares approached:
Pale moonlights of river-ripples
Thousands of millions of blades
Of greeny grass and flowers;
And, autumn windy-rains
And the fallen of the yellow leaves.
As if he had seen his wife
In the air reaching for his hands
In her white-skirt fluttering with
shine smiles of her face—
Their youthhood and green-dreams
Of the guidance of goodness of love
Were eagerly going towards