Tashi Lhunpo Monastery. Photograph from https://bloogs.com/
“I Remember Shigatse”
that day in red Shigatse when I was young with a travelling bag and a drinking-flask on my back and on my feet a pair of Liberation running shoes
I strode across fields of highland qingke barley a forest combed its hair in the mist dawn rinsed its face crows bore the name of a divine being
a snow leopard flew in the Himalayas some Tibetan’s white house stood poised on a hill-top prayer-flags
fluttered with a pantheon of gods a paper lion overcame its altitude sickness as imps and a fine steed
rolled in its erect body I strode past villages fortresses temples cream-coloured tents a Tibetan mastiff
roared against a railing this mighty collector took care of a Black Hole from the Middle Ages I had no way of getting near to
bells tolled from high up in the clouds the Doors of a Whole Household opened a crowd of matsutake mushrooms put on their caps
the Doors of a Hundred Rivers opened a hundred thangkas bloomed riotously on slopes covered in a hundred kinds of flowers a hundred bronze cauldrons
were brewing a whole day’s yak-butter tea Baidumu stood in a country fair of weiqi chess-players bearing Tibetan woollen pulu cloth and a love
very soon to be realized Sakya Monastery was raining Mount Qomolangma was chanting scriptures the Doors of the Galsang Flowers opened every horse
in a pack of horses had lowered its head to the ground having found the root a vermilion monk with one shoulder bare pulled out a key from somewhere at his side
the Doors to the Sun opened wide its brilliance lighting up the Tashi Lhunpo Monastery lost in thought Doors of Stone opened
the Doors of Wood opened Doors of Eggs Doors of Orchards fathers and sons
worked on the rooves of Autumn fifty-one years old, Jiangmu’s mother had a row of white teeth
in her apple of a face the Doors of the White Poplars opened I met people spinning prayer-wheels
made of sheep’s hide people dancing behind white clouds people offering their hands in support people walking along roads people on their way
to Lhasa these joyous clocks crawled along the ground and moved more slowly than time itself I met with people
lying stretched out in fields of grass and I met kings without crowns the mothers of mothers riders on horseback ladies of noble birth
necks encircled with turquoise beautiful woman cooks a reincarnated descendant of King Gesar just like a stupa I met with young girls
like white cranes bronzed boys and at the long-distance bus station I met with butter gilded with gold-leaf as well as people
carrying scars fleas and love songs people come from corn and potato who led me
and guided me past precipices and streams with hands scythes had once cut into o that day in faraway Shigatse
the Doors of the Choir opened everywhere lips were singing Jamyang Gyatso sang in each and every prayer wheel
sorrowful songs that day Shigatse was bathed in an auspicious glow that day all the doors opened
the white hair of grandmothers hung down in doorways the world was so old Beauty was slow in coming but how I hoped that this was not
the End of the World that day, with Shigatse lit up in the light of the setting sun I found the main gate to an Old Heaven sheep
making their way back home trod my footprints into the mud’s oblivion as they passed there was no electricity in Shigatse that day
no hotels the Doors of the Stars opened and together with the motionless yaks on a plain of grass
I was glad to be darkness
Notes:
① 勃起的身体中滚着 / 骏马和精灵
I asked Yu Jian about the horse and the imps and he said that all this was in him: “I had become a steed” [我自己的身体内，我成了一匹骏马].
② 一头藏獒 / 在栅栏旁咆哮 伟大的收藏家 保管着中世纪的黑洞 我无法走近
I am still puzzled about the dog being described as a “mighty collector”. Yu Jian explained that he saw it as a kind of spirit [你可以那么想，藏獒在我看来就是神灵]; perhaps he means the kind that protects house and home from unwanted influences. The phrase “meaner than a junkyard dog” also springs to mind in this context: in a way, the dog is both collector and protector of such a hoard. The image of the black hole may refer to the gaping mouth of the dog and to unmodernised Tibet (one characteristic modernization is perpetual bright lighting and the loss of complete natural darkness) and, taking things a step further, to the difficulty modernized individuals experience in approaching other kinds of societies
③ 白度母站在手谈者的集市
Yu Jian does like to literalize words. The word for “chess” here is 手谈, literally “hand talk”. He could have in mind here the scenario he describes in the prose piece “In Lhasa”: “In a certain spot on Barkhor Street, groups of Khampa men do business by thrusting a hand into the sleeve of their trading-partner and moving it around inside. They look as if they’re putting on some kind of play with hand-puppets. An expert on local affairs told me that this was how they haggled. They bargain with their fingers in their sleeves, communicating prices by means of gesture.”
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回忆日喀则
那一天在红色的日喀则 我正年轻 背着行囊和一壶水 穿着解放鞋
大步穿过青稞地 森林在雾中梳头 黎明洗脸 乌鸦有一个神的名字
雪豹在喜马拉雅山中飞 藏族人白色的房子停在山岗 风马旗跟着
诸神飘扬 一头纸狮子在克服它的高原反应 勃起的身体中滚着
骏马和精灵 大步迈过村庄 城堡 寺院 奶油色的帐篷 一头藏獒
在栅栏旁咆哮 伟大的收藏家 保管着中世纪的黑洞 我无法走近
钟声响起在云端 一家人的门打开了 一群松茸戴好了它们的小帽子
一百条河流的门打开了 一百张唐卡盛开在百花山坡 一百只铜锅
在煮着一日的奶茶 白度母站在手谈者的集市 带来氆氇和将至的
爱情 萨迦寺在下雨 珠穆朗玛在颂经 格桑花的门打开了 马群
低着头 它找到了根 朱红色的僧人袒露肩膀从腰间取出了钥匙
太阳的门大大地打开了 光辉照亮沉思的扎伦布寺 石头的门打开了
木头的门打开了 鸡蛋的门打开了 果园的门打开了 丈夫和儿子们
在秋天的屋顶上干活 降姆的妈妈五十一岁 苹果般的脸上含着一排
白牙齿 天空的门打开了 白杨树的门打开了 我遇见摇着羊皮转经筒
的人 尾随白云跳舞的人 彼此搀扶的人 走在路上的人 要去拉萨
的人 这些快乐的表 匍匐在大地上 走得比时间还慢 我遇见躺在
大草原上的人 遇见无冕的国王 母亲的母亲 骑士 戴绿松石项链
的贵妇 美丽的厨娘 格萨尔王的转世后裔 像一座塔 我遇见白鹤
少女 古铜男子 在长途汽车站我遇见镀着黄金的酥油 遇见那些身上
有疤痕 跳蚤和情歌的人 那些来自玉米和土豆的人 他们牵着我
绕过悬崖和溪流 用被镰刀割伤的手 哦呀 那一天在遥远的日喀则
唱诗班的门打开了 所有嘴唇都在歌唱 仓央嘉措在每一只经筒中唱着
伤心之歌 那一天 祥光笼罩日喀则 那一天 所有的门都打开了
门洞里挂着祖母们的白发 世界如此老迈 美姗姗来迟 但愿这不是
末日 那一天在夕光中的日喀则 我找到旧天堂的大门 一只只羊
在归家 我的脚印跟着它们在泥泞中隐去 那一天日喀则没有电
没有旅馆 星星的门打开了 跟着草原上那些一动不动的牦牛
我甘于黑暗
2018年8月1日星期三在理塘
