复活节的纪念                               

            在耶稣死去的星期五

            你的脸 被一个拳头重击后

            右眼向右斜去

            紫裂的唇 血水下流

            挂着青兀的面孔

            硬底的拖鞋

            你成为节日的流浪汉

            夜空耸立着十字架

            路灯昏暗 寂静

            雨开始为耶稣低哭

            耶稣在星期五死去

            你右斜的眼

            从右边看到圣母

            再向右 看到姐姐

            小时候 她是你的母亲

            长大了 她一次又一次做新娘

            她五十岁依然千娇百媚

            让所有情人为她心碎

            让你犯下原罪

            躺在街头的长凳上

            像耶稣被钉在十字架

            又一只拳头对准了你的左眼

            但停滞在空中

            是什么唤起怜悯？

            你脸上淌的不是泪

            是眼中流出的汗水

            太阳升起的时候

            你从身上捡起

            飞蛾空弃的卵壳

            它在阳光下闪耀

            玲珑剔透

            那是星期一的早上

            耶稣开始复活

                  1995年4月

         A MEMENTO OF EASTER   SYDNEY :HELENJIA

            Fridays of Jesus died

            A thump hit on your blank face

            Made your right eye more slanting right

            The lips broken openly, spitting blood purple beneath

            Showed on the livid face

            And tough-soled slippers

            You were as a vagrant of The Holiday

            The Cross erected into night sky

            And road lights dim, silently

            The rain-drops

            Spatted on crying for Juses

            Christ died Friday

            And you, the right-slanting eye

            Squinted the Blessed Virgin

            And moreover saw your sister

            She used to give you the mother‘s care when u was a girl

            And grown up then her bride hoods bent beside her

            At aged fifty she still so ravishingly beautiful

            And exquisitely dainty

            That really broken all of her lover’s heart

            And let you have GUILTY

            Lying on a street bench like

            Christ being nailed to the Cross.

            Once again there was a thump pointed at your left eye,

            Hung on in the air with fancy of Mercy

            It wasn’t tearing now on your face

            There were long sweats from your eye

            Sun rising, on your body you pick up it

            Of moth the hollow egg-shell, left

            Shining under sunrays, the best in fact

            So lend your eye

            That Monday Morning

            Juses is resuscitating.

     译者附言：

      这诗，是娴静的女诗人西贝在上个世纪九十年代四月天写下的。我没有去询问诗人写时想到了什么，是什么世俗的场景孕育出这样的诗句、那些隐喻，也不分神去想那是怎样的一个盛大“节日”的景象，会如此血腥暴戾？却浸透了信仰的挣扎与坚守，即便这或许只是我的理解。

      二十多年过去了，95年清明后生的年轻人也已经在日月光照下23岁了，陪着这《复活节的纪念》，虽然她或许还是躲在字形里，却在临近2018的这个圣诞节获得了现实有力的烘托。这是该诗的一次奇妙的“复习”，匪夷所思地全新展示，谁说“前不见古人后不见来者？”没那么苍凉矫情，读到《复活节的纪念》的心灵该会喜欢这些诗句：太阳升起的时候 /你从身上捡起 /飞蛾空弃的卵壳/它在阳光下闪耀, 玲珑剔透。

   如今,还有诗人如此写《复活节的纪念》吗？会有年轻人继续写下去，但那场景属于他们自身的复活。