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Poems on the MRT

青木恋人 / Lover of Verdant Trees by Aw Seow Pooi

 

青木恋人
欧筱佩

（一）

初熟的落叶不断回头，寻找
大树的眼睛。像极了初初
我来到你的小镇上 你的眼神正起舞
你的口音既陌生又像逢绿
的海水，是我养伤的地方

你的年代或许不太潮湿，门前
结的果却是怎么好，怎么好。
我是后来风吹路过的那雨
你一打伞
我便瞬间怒放

（二）
记忆很长，太远的激动我是
不敢再撩。信还是那么整齐的
睡在床头。想说把灯火打开，飞虫
又闯进来绕了几圈。怎么还不走呢
要怎么走，我就是那只不懂平衡的飞虫

三月的风 看著它走 我的背脊难过了
起来。以为朗读几行字就能摆脱
心事铮铮。窗外，有河载著山离去
仿佛世界潺潺在动，而我的世界
动在你的山谷里

（三）
暮色的梦被睡了过半
屋里的漆也让苍茫翻新
我们不再是戏弄脚下影子
的少年。只贪恋醒来时
还能记住一个名字

临别我掌心，花也不愿开得太红
任由雨丝缝补天南与地北。若你
禅定入梦，把来到河岸的蝴蝶遣送
回桥上。收回光线，我将不再是桥下
轻易动心的水草

（四）
瘦成一条小径，住进
你写的街道。树与树
还未命名，我伸出手掌
长成红藤攀缘相思
彳 亍 你 心

字里的杨桃落地，昏鸦枝上
突然回头。湖面有逗点打击
的嫌疑。雨水降至，我从书中
归来。蜻蜓落在楔子前
你双手托腮与它一同发呆

（五）
俯身倾听猫薄荷的味道
在清晨报到，脚下的草伸伸懒腰
捋过摇曳春风的尾巴，橘猫一只
在看烟，烟正侧过身穿越你
甜甜地落地 散开生命

毫无预兆的声音，一想起
就渗漏几行字里。不要在相片
寻找我，我的眼神纷纷
在框外呼吸。你知道的我
根本爱得没有尺寸

（六）
四月翩然，倩倩也仿佛
昼夜淡淡地分离。奉劝
云朵轻轻压在你脸上，当我
吹动手中的风车
让风护你的周全

打开门，把太阳暂时放入兜里
上帝会猜到我需要甚么
我把雨收割，一束一束
赠你伤春时。你如何拒绝
它落地语喃喃，泛起的芊芊

（七）
沿著井口看看会走路
的绿苔，似雨后的你
你踩出的田野。每一步
皆是雾成熟的时令。看井
的日子，像看你横生涟漪

乌云辞行，恰巧你正打听那一棵
树在井边听风吹雨。我不曾
栽种，却随它成形为雾气伊人储水
我没有神的智慧，可我
能在神话里
打捞 你


Lover of Verdant Trees
Written by Aw Seow Pooi
Translated by Shelly Bryant

1
the newly fallen leaf keeps looking back, searching
for the tree’s eyes. Much like me
when I first came to your little town. Your eyes danced
and your accent, so unfamiliar, was like green waves
on the sea, a place where I might heal

perhaps it's less humid in your time, but the fruit
growing in front of your door is good, so good
I am the rain, passing later in the wind
my each drop bursting into bloom
on the tight skin of your umbrella


2
memory is long, and I dare not poke the distant thrill
those letters, so neatly sleeping beside my bed
I want to turn on the light, and the moth
breaks in, keeps circling – why won’t it leave?
how can it? it is me – unable to understand balance

the wind in March watches it leave – my spine aches
I get up, thinking that a little reading
will rid me of my worries. Outside the window
a river carries the mountains away
the world flows so gently, while my world
washes through your valley


3
a dream of dusk, half slept through
the paint inside the house rejuvenated by haziness
we, no longer young folks teasing the shadows
beneath our feet, craving only an awakening
and the recollection of a name

parting from the palm of my hand, flowers
reluctant to bloom too redly
let the rain meld then rent between north and south
if you meditate yourself into a dream, send the butterflies
that came from the riverbank back to the bridge
retract the light, and I am no longer
the watergrass beneath the bridge, so easily moved


4
turning into a slim path, I settle
into the street you wrote – trees, and trees
yet to be named – I stretch out my palm
growing it into red vines, climbing longingly
lingering in your heart

starfruits fall from the words, the dusky crow
suddenly looks back from the branch – on the lake surface
a hint of piercing raindrops – the rain descends
and I return from my book
a dragonfly lands before the preface begins
you rest your chin in your hand, daydreaming with it


5
bend down – listen to the scent of the catnip
checking in in the morning: the grass underfoot stretches lazily
brushing against the tail of the swaying spring breeze
an orange cat
watching the smoke pass you
landing sweetly, spreading life
an unheralded sound, once remembered
leaks into several lines – don’t search for me
in the photo – my gaze breathes beyond the frame’s confines
you know me – my love
is unbounded


6
April flutters by, gracefully separating day from night
I remind the clouds to press gently on your face
I blow the pinwheel in my hand
asking the wind to shelter you

opening the door and momentarily pocketing the sun
God can guess what I need
I harvest rain, bundle by bundle
to deliver spring’s sorrow to you – how can you refuse?
a soft murmur, gentle ripples arising as it lands


7
looking at the moss walking along the well’s edge
like you, after the rain
walking the fields – each step
the season of full grown mist – days observing the well
like I observe the ripples you create

the dark clouds depart, and you ask about the tree
by the well, listening to the wind and rain – I didn’t
plant it, but it forms as mist, such graceful storage for the water
I lack divine wisdom, but
in myth, I might
salvage you


Published in 罅隙 (2022)

Aw Seow Pooi was born in Ipoh, Malaysia, and currently works in Singapore. She has received several literature awards, including the Hong Kong Youth Literary Awards and the Singapore Golden Point Award. Her works have been published in newspapers and magazines in Singapore, Malaysia, China, Hong Kong, and Taiwan. Her most beautiful memory was stroking a Malayan tapir in the mist of dawn.

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Poems on the MRT is an initiative by the National Arts Council, in partnership with SMRT and Stellar Ace. Produced by Sing Lit Station, a local literary non-profit organisation, this collaboration displays excerpts of Singapore poetry throughout SMRT’s train network, integrating local literature into the daily experience of commuters. Look out for poems in English, Chinese, Malay, and Tamil in trains on the East-West, North-South and Circle Lines, as well as videos created by local artists and featuring local poets in stations and on trains. The Chinese, Malay, and Tamil poems are available in both the original languages and English. To enjoy the full poems, commuters may read them on go.gov.sg/potm.

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