By An Ran
That narrow door opens without a sound,
As if I had stumbled into the era of silent films.
Oh, so you are still here.
Behind the door, a familiar smile,
A instant of brightness vividly frozen in time.
Is it Carl Jung’s house, now open for a visit,
Or a return to Freud’s dark basement?
The scene fades to dimness,
Where day and night no longer matter.
Beneath the window of the outer room,
Cousins crowd together on the heated brick bed.
Shadows cast water-ink masks,
Worn on the face of every single soul present.
Rising and falling,
Moments of long-lost flashforwards
Collapse into the final line on an ECG.
原来你还在这里
文/安然
那道窄门开启无声，
我像误入了默片的时代。
喔，原来你还在这里。
门后是熟悉的笑容，
清晰定格刹那的光亮。
是允许探访荣格的老屋，
还是回到了弗洛伊德的地下室？
画面转暗，
昼与夜此刻不再重要。
外间屋的窗下，
表兄弟们坐满一炕。
阴影铸成水墨的面具，
戴在每个在场者的脸上。
高低错落，
多年不见的闪回瞬间，
坍缩成最后的心电曲线
