图腾

文/Ken

这片遥远的土地

人和神从没有忘记洗劫

只剩下了荒原和山峦

虽然 天空仍是那么明净

树林  稀稀拉拉

却一望无际

一块不大不小的空地

围上火把

驱走林子的真正主人

客人感到安全感

大盘子上堆满林子里野味

杯子泼洒着红酒

不断的撕咬和咀嚼声

又回到了原始生存... 

半裸的男女们

围成一圈

火焰映照在背上

黑里透红

踏着强劲的节奏

狂呼起舞

双臂急促颤抖

伸向天空... 

背景里那个长者

手里的杵棒

满是缭乱的彩纹

顶部雕了只怪鹰

他全然不动

像一座经典

神秘的淡笑

皱纹里那双深邃的眼睛

依然犀利 晶亮

随着火星闪烁

有人抄起吉他

跳入舞群

在夜幕下弹唱 

长长的黑发

在晚风中飘散... 

啊--

销魂 悲戚

仰天叹 

善哉 哀哉

残酒 洒向四方

祭天地

诵一曲：

遥远东方来客

山峦无际星空

唯有人间多惨剧

幕幕伤心几万重

随风入眼中

怎不一弹小曲

妙娴素手情浓

古老风霜纹折里

亦是深眸泪水朦

何来浅笑容？

注：写于2023年1月，记数次非洲之行。

Totem

By Ken Fan

Even this remote land,

Couldn't escape the lootings by men and God.

Only deserts and mountains remain,

Under a chrystal clear sky.

Forests became sparse,

And yet extending to far distance. 

A piece of open terrain, 

neither too big nor too small,

Is surrounded with fire torches, 

making strangers feel safe,

While driving away the real masters of forest. 

Gigantic plates are full of delicacies from the woods.

Wine are spilling and splashing from bottles and glasses. 

Amid noises of tearing and chewing,

The men have returned to primativity with no hesitation. 

Half naked crowd,

Form a circle.

The fire lighten up their bodies,

Turning bloodstained. 

They start dancing,

On violent beats. 

Arms extend towards the sky,

And shake hastily.

An old man in the background,

Holding a totem pole

With busy and colorful lines,

And a strange eagle carved on the top. 

He sits up there motionless, 

Yet with a mysterious sneer. 

Like a classic sculpture. 

Those deep eyes in a wrinkled face, 

Nonetheless remain sharp and clear,

Winking with flying sparks. 

Someone picks up a guitar, 

And jumps into the dancing crowd,

And sings aloud under the sky. 

His beautiful long hairs, 

Dance with breezes. 

Ah, what an ecstasy and sorrow! 

Profound laments towards the sky, 

Benevolence and grievance! 

Let's disperse the wine in all the directions, 

Paying homage to the Heaven and Earth. 

Then, the crowd chant:

Visitors from the Orient distant and far, 

Endless mountains under starry sky. 

Only the mankind is full of tragedies, and why? 

One after another moves crowd to tears,

And breezes bring them in front of your eyes. 

Why not play a tender melody, 

With delicate hands that sentiment is so high. 

The ageless wrinkles on the old face won't lie. 

Still hold those eyes so crystal clear. 

How come there's still that mystic sneer?