In the depths of night, the train whistle,
Its origin unknown,
Faint, deep, almost a sigh,
Intermittent, with long pauses
Before a similarly faint response arrives,
Like a lonely watchman flickering his lantern across the valley,
There are no stations or rails nearby,
The stations lie north of Purple Mountain,
And across the vast Xuanwu Lake.
These days, the train sounds are clearer,
They traverse the increasingly sparse plane tree tops,
Trembling like white frost,
The departures and farewells of dawn
Always seem frost-covered,
For instance, at the humble terminal in my hometown,
Shadows are vague on the pitch-black platform,
The tremor from afar travels through the tracks,
The train with its giant eyes wide open, exhales white steam,
Running towards me, comes to a sudden stop,
Back then, I was young, excited by distant places,
The darkness and chill before dawn,
But now, the dawn train
Leaves me hesitant, reluctant to wake up.
Translation by Mǎ Yongbo and Helen Pletts 2024
Painting: Claude Monet
黎明的⽕⻋ Dawn Train⻢永波
深夜⾥的⽕⻋汽笛声
不知从什么地⽅传来
隐约，低沉，近乎叹息
断断续续的，隔很久
才会传来同样微弱的呼应
像寂寞的守夜⼈隔着⼭⾕闪⼀闪⻢灯
附近没有⻋站和铁轨
⻋站远在紫⾦⼭的北⾯
⽽且还隔着偌⼤的⽞武湖
这些⽇⼦，⽕⻋声更加清晰了
它们越过⽇渐稀疏的梧桐树顶⽽来
像⽩霜⼀样颤栗着
黎明的出发和别离
也总是蒙着霜的
譬如在家乡的末等⼩站
⿊漆漆的⽉台上⼈影绰约0
远⽅的颤栗从铁轨上传来
⽕⻋⼤睁着巨眼，呼哧着⽩⾊蒸汽
奔跑到⾯前，突然停住
那时我年少，陌⽣的远⽅，兴奋
黎明前的⿊暗和冷
⽽今黎明的⽕⻋
却让我如此犹豫着不愿醒来
.