is the red bird that has just started a strong song.
In the dark of a january morning her notes are ours;
the chorus of us. And there is nothing small about this,
our voices singing together in the darkness, as if we
knew that darkness was always for this, music, always
music; and always song. And always on a small branch
wavering in red, on a black morning
7th January 2025
Helen Pletts
Translated by Ma Yongbo 7th January 2025
⿊暗为我们保留的 what the darkness keeps of ours
是那只刚刚开始⾼歌的红⻦。
在⼀⽉清晨的⿊暗中，她的⾳符属于我们；
我们的合唱。这其中没有什么是微不⾜道的，
我们的声⾳在⿊暗中⻬唱，仿佛我们知道
⿊暗永远是为此⽽存在的，⾳乐，永远是
⾳乐；⽽且永远是歌声。永远是⼀根⼩树枝
在红⾊中摇晃，在⼀个漆⿊的早晨。
2025 年 1 ⽉ 7 ⽇
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