譯者附言：
雙語《遠去的群山》已交到出版社，正在付印。遵冰夫先生囑，將定稿的內容十二章及尾聲拍上澳華文學網。恰逢又一波的“抗美援朝”的熱情，所以，收尾時還將拍上收入的中文第一版《遠去的群山》的張奧列先生的評論《英雄的悲歌》與已故的陳振鐸的《巍峨群山天地隱》，相信讀者會有歷久彌堅的感慨：時代在延展，記憶在更新，新世紀的期待獲得了縱深的依托，而當年上甘嶺的死去的英雄們，值得人們再去憑吊，這是歷史的輝煌一頁，不該湮滅或被淡忘。
01/11/2020 於悉尼。
逺去的羣山 Distancing Mountains
序诗
人事有代谢,
往来成古今.
江山留胜迹,
我辈复登临.
——孟浩然
一
浩瀚宇宙，
苍茫云雾，
时代在攀登，
新的高度。
人类,不幸丢失掉
诚实书写的字符，
越来越可怕的近视，
愈走愈荒唐的迷途。
云朵与星群，
在慧眼中变成泪珠。
因为一场小雨，
一行行史诗模糊。
旷野上
莽苍的群山，
扬起云帆，
摆脱大地的羁绊；
我那些战火中挺身而出的伙伴，
已经随溪流悄然远去
鲜血浇灌松涛，
大山繁衍的子孙，
奔腾咆哮，
烦躁不安。
二
爱与恨的波浪，
云与水的变奏，
在眼底起伏翻滚；
听，谁在彼岸呐喊？
谁在抚摸岁月的伤痕？
时光与死亡结伴。
黑暗意识的甬道。
生命从未停步。
怎样深入灵魂的过去，
告别躯壳的现在。
谁肯在伤疤撒盐？
沉重的历史，
柔弱的手无法掀开。
荒原上，
猎人与狼群，
一起追赶烟尘。
夕阳， 橙红的火球，
反复地描绘，
群山重叠的剪影，
传出沉重的回声。
远去的群山，
破译宇宙的奥秘。
一把烈火，
焚毁万古的箴言。
战争，和平，
谁在衡量人类良心？
无数平凡茁壮的手，
挥刀斩断罪恶的祸根。
第一章
一个海外游子迷醉在沂蒙山麓
白昼正在消逝，朦胧的黄昏
使大地上的动物停止了
它们一天的辛苦：而我独自一人
正在准备着自己来支持
旅程和怜悯这两种搏斗，
这个，我的不误的记忆将要叙述。
——但丁
月明星稀，
群山幻象丛生。
抬头仰望，峰颠上
瀑布抛一条大道；
那人生的险境，
仿佛铺砌白银，
闪闪烁烁，
直达山顶。
山，无边无际。
梦，似幻似真。
一个白发苍苍的老人，
手持古槐虬枝，
翻过断崖石笋，
孑然独行于寂寞大地。
萧瑟秋风中，
匍匐在矮树荒草的坟茔。
这个海外归来的游子，
抗美援朝的老兵，
跪在妻子坟前，
手摸泥土，冰冷，
脸頬上，热泪滚滚：
“四十年匆匆草草，
时光的碎片哪里追寻？
激情点燃的血液，
曾在年轻的脉管流动；
多少人穿越战火，
转瞬间消失了踪影。
相约四十年后再相见，
当年的出发地——申城。”
他脸上饱经沧桑。
苦难的岁月，
犁下深深皱纹；
两道浓眉尚未衰落，
深邃坚毅的目光，
闪烁漂泊人世的风云，
仿佛海岸的礁石，
历经浪涛冲刷捶打，
依旧挺拔坚韧，
笑看冷暖人生。
他是这个故事的主人公，
当年军报记者曹牧云。
在战火纷飞的前线，
出生入死中巧遇爱神；
她是文工团著名演员，
沂蒙山姑娘杨艺萍。
两个热恋的情侣，
结下恩恩怨怨的一生。
几只暮鸦在坟头聒噪，
雾霭弥漫，
黄昏朦胧。
曹牧云在坟前喃喃自语，
山谷里流泉淙淙。
“深藏大地怀抱的人呵，
无梦时代的知音，
我万里迢迢寻到此处，
你却睡得好沉、好沉；
难道你我之间，
情缘殆尽？
“躺在故乡的泥土里，
在山毛榉掩蔽的沟壑，
在阳光烤焦的孟良崮前，
在儿时那条小路的尽头。
你可听见？
静静的沂蒙，
仇恨呼啸的弹雨消失之后，
云雾中走动的山风，
传递独角黄牛的哞叫，
鹧鸪与山喜鹊，
在林间嬉闹，
啼鸣。
“为你——
半个世纪我跋山涉水，
半个世纪划出半圆；
为你——
你的梦幻，
你的誓言，
以及那无法消除的
心头创痕。
我四处流浪，
孤蓬飘零。
“还记得我们的约定：
那首歌刻骨铭心，
《等着我》
《等着我》
一辈子远离喧嚣的浮华，
回归沂蒙故土，
重铸灵魂。
“我又来到这个地方，
环视静静的沂蒙山，
空气里有你青春的气息，
还有那遥远的歌声。
“你为什么不说话？
只是默默承受？
“多少年来多少次，
梦中握住你冰冷的手,
相顾无言：
仿佛仍在冰雪小路徘徊。
冷却了太阳的忆念，
咬破嘴唇，
孤傲的心在颤抖，
任凭泪水流；
两个退役战士，
寂寥的荒野无路走。
“尽管时事沧桑，
岁月流逝，
那火热的誓言却未曾衰败。
订约的人苍然老去，
无法消除那创痕的存在；
于是，用浸血的泪水，
将昔日、将战争、将记忆
层层包裹起来。
“艺萍，世道如此诡诈
谁透析苍茫的人世：
何为革命?
何为爱情?
你的话铭刻我心头。
走过战争，走过和平，
走过大大小小无数的圆环，
像一个个闪光的陷阱，
消耗整个生命。
“在铁窗无眠的夜晚，
在霜雪捶打的劳改工地，
每一次睡梦中回首，
都要触到灵魂的痛处。
深深的静默中，
你哀怨绝望的目光，
紧紧盯住我，
仿佛总在探究：
何为革命?
何为爱情?
……
“黄昏的雾帐，
正在延伸，
我环视静静的
山峰峻岭，
矮树丛与酸枣林，
埋藏着你童年的梦；
储有你青春的气息，
和那遥远的歌声。
“深藏大地怀抱的人呵，
无梦时代的知音，
我知道，
你并未走远，
你不死的灵魂，
飘荡在山梨花丛中。”
曹牧云昏昏沉沉，
匍匐在亡妻的坟头。
无数梦魇，
向他走来：
月光，水波，
芳草，花朵，
秋风秋雨，
黄叶纷纷，
他仿佛看到杨艺萍，
身穿洁白连衣裙，
紧握他的手，
笑意盈盈，
他俩跟随着爱神指引，
无怨无悔地走向
那一场青春梦幻的战争。
（原载《上海诗人》2009年5月号）2010-9-23改写
Chapter 1
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.
——Dante
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
Of mountains.
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
The war.
