曹谁的十二首诗
——选自《帝国之花》，意大利花达西亚出版社，2019.
曹谁简介：
曹谁，诗人、小说家、剧作家、翻译家，北京师范大学文学硕士，中国民主同盟盟员。原名曹宏波，字亚欧，号通天塔主。曾参加鲁迅文学院第14届作家高研班、中国文联第9届编剧高研班、中国作协第10次作代会、第8次青创会。1983年生于山西榆社，2008年去职远游，在西藏、新疆周游数月而返青海，开始职业写作生涯，现居北京。2007年发起大诗主义运动，2017年倡导剧小说运动，2018年发起曹伊之争。著有诗集《亚欧大陆地史诗》《通天塔之歌》《帝国之花》等十部，长篇小说《巴别塔尖》《昆仑秘史》（三部曲）《雪豹王子》等十部，文集《大诗学》《可可西里动物王国》《西藏新疆游历记》等四部，翻译《理想国的歌声》《太阳中的黄金鸟》《伊斯坦布尔的脚步》等三部，电影剧本《昆仑决》《子弹上膛》《一个王朝的背影》、电视剧本《孔雀王》和舞台剧本《雪豹王子》等百余部集。作品发表于《人民文学》《诗刊》《作家》等文学杂志，入选上百部权威选本。有多部长篇小说改编为影视剧、广播剧、舞台剧等。有作品翻译为英、法、德、俄、日、韩、瑞典、希腊、印地、意大利、西班牙、土耳其、阿拉伯等20余种文字，在国际诗坛有三十多位著名诗人写作评论，被中国诗坛称为“国际曹”，被印度杰出诗人拉蒂·萨克塞纳称为是“领导新世界的年轻一代”的代表诗人。曾获首届中国青年诗人奖、第7届中国长诗奖、第5届青海青年文学奖之“文学之星”、第4届曹禺杯剧本奖、第8届意大利罗马当代国际诗歌艺术学院奖之阿波罗·狄奥尼索斯诗歌奖诗歌奖、第12届俄罗斯金骑士奖、第5届华语诗歌春晚2019年度十佳诗人等50多项省级以上文艺奖。曾参加第30届麦德林国际诗歌节、第26届哈瓦那国际诗歌节、第14届印度Kritya国际诗歌节、第4届青海湖国际诗歌节等多个国际诗歌节。系中国作家协会会员，中国电影文学学会会员，世界诗歌运动成员，《大诗刊》主编，《世界诗歌》副主编，《世界诗坛》副主编，《世界诗人》英文主编，《国际诗人》副主编，《国际诗歌》英文主编，华语诗歌春晚副总导演，博鳌国际诗歌节常务副秘书长，丝绸之路国际诗歌节常务副主席。
雪豹王子
长长的尾巴盘卷在头顶
黄白的花纹映照着雪山
锋利的爪子在闪耀星光
震耳的呼啸如大风穿过
我多年后回头
总是跟他蓝色的眼睛相对
如同闪电一样照亮时空
你这万兽之王看着自己的王国
野牦牛是忠诚勇敢的武将
藏羚羊是心怀谋略的文臣
藏野驴是圣洁神圣的隐士
白唇鹿是看破红尘的僧人
苍狼可以组织军队
猫头鹰是夜间杀手
黑颈鹤是少有情圣
棕熊是伪装高手
鹰隼控制着天空
雪鸡是神的家禽
我从长江第一峡谷穿过
我们的四目相对
多年以后我总是记得那颤抖的相遇
为什么我总忍不住流下眼泪
因为我是时空的囚徒
你永远是自由的王者
雪国
大雪把所有的山口都封死
我们纵马在天地之间奔跑
马背上的笑声在风中飘荡
你的唇如野玫瑰一样血红
我的发如黑烟雾一样弥漫
我们在河流的两岸相望
我们是隔着两个人世在张望
我们在古堡的内外相望
我们是隔着两个世界在弥望
我们恍然晕眩
在一瞬间经历爱恨情仇
在一刹那体味悲欢离合
我们同时伸出手
冰雪在指尖传出彼此的心跳
我们就这样并马前行
在这雪国度过一天
从日出到日落
一旦醒来就将结束
这一日就是一生
美人鱼梦
我带着一条受伤的鱼前行
这只坛子只能容下一条鱼
鱼是怎么受伤的？
这个秘密我也想知道
只有破解才能知道她死的原因
我走过千山万水
我走过千年万年
大河穿过大谷
我在一个夜里摔倒在大洪水中
这条鱼从坛子跑掉
我只能眼睁睁看着她离去
人们都说我善良
鱼在此时化为美人鱼
她的两边有伺候的丫鬟
我的头顶上是弯弯的月亮
美人慢慢升起到月亮上
月亮的中间滴下一颗浓浓的露水
我伸出双手抓住
恍然明白前世来生
2014.10.6于西宁
当我老了
当我老了
走在摇摇晃晃的石路
黄色的小花摇动
白色的蝴蝶飞舞
许多事已经模糊
记不清谁是谁非
太阳会一直照下去
月亮会一直明下去
我却马上就要离开
我只希望最后脑中只有你的影像
模模糊糊摇摇晃晃
也许不记得我们的故事
我们怎么相识
又是怎么分别
只有你的笑脸
我希望看着你的脸
消逝在另一个世界
在永恒的宇宙中我们最后一次会面
大悲舞
你站在舞台的中央
他们都在推你走向悲伤
有的人在舞台背后为你伴乐
有的人在你身后随哀乐起舞
站在舞台中央痛哭的只有你一个人
大舞台在亚欧大陆地中部
你站在帕米尔之巅痛哭
人们从四面八方赶来
亚细亚人在为你奏哀乐
欧罗巴人在随音乐摇摆
唯有你一个人站在那里痛不欲生
你是世界中一个最普通的人
所有的人仍不会放过你
他们为你歌舞
一齐助你悲伤
直到你绝望
直到你离开这个世界
他们就会一哄而散
去为下一个人哀歌
天安门前的卫兵
无数的人对你微笑
无数的人为你拍照
你每天都见到重要人物
他们都围绕你欢呼
他们却从来没有看见你
从生到死你就固定到天安门前，脸上没有表情
冷冷地或热热地看着人民英雄纪念碑
前面和后面都是毛主席头像
天安门前的卫兵看着这个世界
无数的男人匆匆而过，他们去悲欢离合
无数的女人匆匆而过，他们去爱恨情仇
无数的重要人物匆匆而过，无论贤愚忠奸
他们都在天安门广场这大舞台上演戏
天安门前的卫兵在想：我在风和云下静静地看着这世界
二十亿年的爱：宇宙通信
我在本超星系团本星系群银河系遥望
你在本超星系团后发星系群后发星系
我们隔着室女星系群写情书
我在本超星系团本星系群银河系写信
你在本超星系团本星系群仙女系写信
我们在遥远的星空通信
星空就是大海，星球就是岩石
这信在光中要行走二百万年才能到我们手上
我们的家在二十亿年后才能成邻居
我在本超星系团本星系群银河系猎户旋臂地球上向
银河系英仙臂、天鹅臂、人马臂上的人写信
我们的四周都是暗物质
我们的中间是巨大的黑洞
我们在暗能量的推动下旋转
我们都在竭力寻找时间通道
那样我一回头就看见，宇宙深处的你在微笑
双头的白天鹅
双头的白天鹅从两个方向赶来
双头的白天鹅在夜晚赶来
双头的白天鹅停在亚欧大陆中部我的头顶
她看着太阳从东方升起西方落下
她说左边是亚细亚，右边是欧罗巴
我们在两条河流之间繁衍生息
双头的白天鹅在黑色的夜空中围绕我飞舞
我闭上眼睛，双头的白天鹅钻入我的身体
双头的白天鹅始终从两个方向朝我飞翔
火龙驹
将沙土沉入水底，将火燃在冰上
我隐藏在水与火中间的隐秘处所
同一只龙进行一场秘密恋爱
我的怒火在冰上燃烧
映照在青色的冰上
穿过干枯的牧场
火光在四面的山中涌起
我静静地躺在冰上的火中，面对北方
那只龙身上的月亮多么细腻，尤其在晚上
我看到明年春天青海骢向四面青青的草场奔跑
踏着开裂的冰，火在他们头顶闪闪发光
火来自他们，火在去年沉入他们心中
隐藏在深处的王冠
他们骑着马朝我走来
马是朝着后面
马根本没有蹄
马背上住满猴子
我抓起一根长长的藤
藤蔓窜起来成为蛇
冰凉的蛇没有牙齿
蛇把内心炽热的毒液藏在腹中
穿过纷纷攘攘的人世我看见大地
穿过莽莽苍苍的大地我看见你
穿过泪蒙蒙的双眼我看见一个王冠
我时刻想做的就是将王冠砸碎
我总看到妈妈十二岁小姑娘时的样子
妈妈来北京看孙子曹亚欧非
我带她看前门天安门
我带她游后海什刹海
她都没有说什么
每次遇到服装店
她就要仔细地看
妈妈像所有女人一样
喜欢漂亮的衣服
可是我从来不知道
这时我就仿佛看到妈妈
十二岁小姑娘时的样子
她在山花烂漫中奔跑
她为一件新衣服欢喜
妈妈的妈妈就在那年去世
从此她不再敢喜欢衣服
她带大了舅舅
她带大了曹谁
她带大了曹希
把买衣服的钱让我们读书
曹希成为中科院的博士
曹谁成为北师大的硕士
妈妈终于放心了
她在那里挑衣服
我却总是忍不住落泪
看到妈妈十二岁小姑娘时的样子
碧云寺深处的梦
烟云缭绕中坠入香山怀抱
碧云寺隐藏于其中
而我们隐藏得更深
我们从山门进入
一座座院落次递展开
左边有未来，右边有过去
而我们撑起现在的大殿
时间的通道洞开
直抵五方宝塔的中央
我们在云雾中静坐
听到风铃叮当
在恍如隔世中念经
我们进入更深的昙城
我们睡卧在中央
可以远眺红尘的天际线
在梦中我们把未来过去贯通
醒来后明白一切
我们的一个梦胜过十万种人生
人们从四面八方赶来
如同河水倒流到高地
如同灵魂回升到星空
从华夏从印度从波斯
从希腊从埃及从犹太
从耶路撒冷从瓦拉纳西
我们也从容抵达
从敦煌从巴比伦从撒马尔罕
我们抵达穹顶弯弯的殿堂
高高的石柱托举到天空
他们从六个门进入
我们从穹顶降入
华夏人用华夏语说黄帝
希腊人用希腊语说宙斯
印度人用印度语说因陀罗
犹太人用犹太语说耶和华
埃及人用埃及语说太阳神拉
波斯人用波斯语说马尔杜克
他们争论不休
我们听不懂他们的语言
却知道他们在说什么
我们诵读一首通天塔之歌
舌战全世界的人
他们全都被震撼
在日和月的照耀下
苏美尔人跟阿卡德人相拥
黄帝部落跟炎帝部落起舞
克里特人跟迈锡尼人嬉戏
达罗荼毗跟雅利安人歌唱
伊特鲁亚跟拉丁姆人干杯
他们上前跟我们握手
长天使梅塔特隆上前歌唱：
你们的一句话胜过十万卷图书
你们的一首诗胜过十万种语言
你们的一个梦胜过十万种人生
我是密特拉我是弥勒佛
我是长天使梅塔特隆如是说
我们从穹顶飞起看到
周围林立的石柱是阳具
我们柔美的穹顶是阴具
长天使画下了梅塔特隆立方体
万事万物的秘密都在他们中间
人们都骑着双头的马在奔走相告
从巴比伦出发
到长安到洛阳城到北京城到南京城到京都城
到罗马到拜占庭到莫斯科到维也纳到柏林城
到纽约到洛杉矶到马丘比丘到特诺奇提特兰
我们的这次集会胜过十万次大会
一切从这里开始，一切从这里结束
我们终将看到我们的子孙遍布世界
12 POEMS OF CAO SHUI
——（Translated by Fiori Picco）（Selected from Flowers of Empire, Fiori D’Asia Editrice）
Bio of Cao Shui
Cao Shui（Chinese: 曹谁;pinyin: Cáo Shuí), also Shawn Cao (born in Jun 5, 1982), is a Chinese poet, novelist, screenwriter and translator. He is a representative figure of Chinese Contemporary Literature. He leads “the Greatpoeticism” movement. In his “Manifesto of Greatpoem”, he aims to integrate sacred and secular cultures, oriental and occidental cultures, ancient and modern cultures in Chinese literature. In 2008, he resigned from a newspaper and traveled around Tibet and Xinjiang, which is the center of Eurasia or the World in his view. His novels Secret of Heaven trilogy tells the whole developing history of human civilization. His most notable works includes Epic of Eurasia, the already mentioned trilogy and King Peacock (TV series). In his works, he extracts elements of various ancient human civilizations, from Babylon to the west to Judea, Egypt, Greece, to the east to Persia, India, China, and uses these elements to reconstruct a new Utopian human homeland, which always described as Eurasia, the Top of the Tower of Babel or Kunlun Mountains (Heaven Mountains). So far twenty books of Cao Shui have been published, including five poem collections, three essay collections, ten novels, three translations and one hundred episodes TV series and films. His works have been translated into English, Italian, Spanish, French, German, Danish, Polish, Russian, Hungarian, Croatian, Slovenian, Turkish, Arabic, Japanese, Korean, Hindi, Nepali, Vietnamese, Tibetan, Mongolian, etc. He has been invited to participate in the 30th Medellin International Poetry Festival, the 26th Havana International Poetry Festival, the 14th Kritya International Poetry Festival in India and the 4th Qinghai Lake International Poetry Festival. He is a member of China Writers Association, China Film Association and China Poetry Society. He is also chief editor of Great Poetry, deputy editor in chief of World Poetry, secretary general of Boao International Poetry Festival and vice president of the Silk Road International Poetry Festival. Currently he lives in Beijing, and works as a professional writer and screenwriter.
PRINCE SNOW LEOPARD
A long tail coiled overhead,
yellow and white patterns
reflect the snow mountain.
Sharp claws sparkling with stars,
roars in the wind pass through like a gale.
I think back to years ago,
when I found myself before its blue eyes:
like lights they illuminated space and time.
You, king of beasts, look at your kingdom:
wild yaks are loyal and brave generals,
the Tibetan antelope is a foresighted minister,
the Tibetan wild donkey is a holy Hermit,
white-lipped deer are monks
who see through the red dust.
Wolves can organize armies,
owls are night killers,
black-necked crane is a faithful lover.
Brown bear is a master of camouflage,
falcons control the sky,
snow-fowls are God’s poultry.
I crossed the First Canyon of the Yangtze River,
our four eyes looked at each other.
Years later, I always remember the thrill of that meeting.
Why can’t I control my tears?
Because I am a prisoner of time and space
and you will be the king of freedom forever.
SNOW COUNTRY
The heavy snow has blocked the mountain pass.
We ride horses between Heaven and Earth.
Laughter on horsebacks float in the wind.
Your lips are as red as wild roses,
my hair is black like smoke.
We meet on both sides of the river,
we are looking across two worlds.
We look inside and outside the castle,
we are looking across two worlds.
We are suddenly dizzy,
experiencing love and hate in a flash,
savouring joy and sorrow in a flash.
We extend our hands at the same time,
snow and ice have beating hearts.
That’s how we go together
and spend a day in the Snowy Country.
From sunrise to sunset.
It will be over when we wake up,
and this day will be a lifetime.
MERMAID
I walk along carrying an injured fish.
This pot only fits one fish.
How was it that the fish was injured?
I too want to know the answer.
Only an examination will reveal the truth.
I traveled past mountain ranges, bodies of water,
I travel through centuries, millenia.
Great rivers cut through deep valleys.
One night I fell into flooding waters.
The fish jumped out from the jar.
I could only stare as she left.
People say I’m affable.
The fish now becomes a mermaid
with servant girls by her side.
A waning moon sits upon my head.
The mermaid ascends the moon.
A drop of fragrant dew drops down.
I extended my hands to catch it
and suddenly understood life that’s passed,
life that comes.
GREAT DANCE OF SORROW
You stand center stage,
they all push you towards sorrow.
Backstage, some play the accompaniment;
behind you, some dance to the funeral music.
Standing center stage crying, there’s only you.
This stage stands center of the Asian continent,
you are on the Pamir plateau wailing.
People come from all directions:
Asians play funeral marches for you
and Europeans dance along.
Wishing for death, you stand there.
You are the most ordinary person,
yet no one will let you be.
They sing for you, dance for you
to aid your sorrow process.
Until you give up all hope,
until you depart this world.
They’ll grieve briefly and leave
to find the next eulogy.
GUARD IN FRONT OF TIAN’ANMEN GATE
Countless people are smiling at you,
countless people take pictures of you.
You face important people every day,
they all rejoice around you,
but they never see you.
From birth to death, you are fixed
in front of Tian’anmen Gate,
with no expression on your face.
Looking coldly or warmly at the
Monument to the People’s Heroes
and at the portrait of Chairman Mao.
The guards in front of Tian’anmen Gate
look at the world:
countless men run in a hurry,
they go towards joy or sorrow;
countless women run in a hurry,
they go towards love or hate;
countless important people run in a hurry,
virtuous or foolish, loyal or treacherous.
They are all performing on the big stage
of Tian’anmen Square.
And you, guard in front of Tian’anmen Gate, are thinking:
“I watch the whole world quietly
in the wind and under the clouds.”
TWO BILLIONS YEARS OF LOVE:
COMMUNICATION IN THE UNIVERSE
I’m looking at you in the Milky Way System,
Local Group of Galaxies, Local Supercluster.
You are behind the Milky Way System,
Local Group of Galaxies, Local Supercluster.
We write love letters separated by the Virgo Galaxy Cluster.
I am writing letters in the Milky Way System,
Local Group of Galaxies, Local Supercluster.
You’re writing letters in the Andromeda Galaxy,
Local Group of Galaxies, the Local Supercluster.
We communicate in the distant starry sky,
which is the sea, while the celestial bodies are rocks.
It will take two million years for this letter
to reach us in the light.
Our families won’t be neighbors for two billion years.
I’m writing letters from the spiral arm of Orion,
in the Milky Way System, Local Group of Galaxies,
Local Supercluster.
People write letters from the spiral arms
of the Milky Way’s Andromeda, Cygnus and Sagittarius.
We’re surrounded by dark matter.
Between us there is a huge black hole.
We spin with dark energy,
we’re all trying to find the time channel.
So when I will look back, I will see that you are smiling
in the depth of Universe.
DOUBLE HEADED WHITE SWAN
A double-headed white swan came from two directions,
the double-headed white swan came at night.
The double-headed White Swan stopped on my head in the middle of Eurasia.
It watched the sunrise in the East and sunset in the West.
It said: “Asia is on the left and Europe is on the right.”
We prospered between two rivers.
The White Swan with two heads was flying around me in the black night sky.
I closed my eyes and it entered my body.
And now, the double-headed White Swan always flies towards me from two directions.
FIRE DRAGON – HORSES
The sand sank into the water
and fire blazed on the ice.
Where I hid between water and fire,
a secret love affair with a dragon was starting.
My anger burned on ice,
reflecting on the blue frost
and crossing dry pastures.
Fire surged everywhere in the mountains.
I laid quietly in the fire on the ice facing the North.
How delicate was the moon on the dragon in the night!
I’ll see fire dragon- horses running
towards the green pasture next spring,
trotting on the cracked ice.
Fire will sparkle over their heads,
fire will come from them,
but last year it sank into their hearts.
CROWN HIDDEN DEEP WITHIN
They’re on a horse trotting towards me.
The horse is facing backwards,
the horse is entirely hoofless,
its back is packed with monkeys.
I reach out for a long vine,
it became a snake, scurried away.
Cold snakes do not have teeth;
storing burning venom in their belly.
Looking past the confused crowd
I see the Earth;
looking past the blurred Earth
I see you.
Across your dizzy, teary eyes rests a crown
and I want to break it to bits.
I ALWAYS SEE MY MOTHER AS A
TWELVE-YEARS- OLD GIRL
Mother came to Beijing to see her grandson Cao Eurofrasia,
I show her Qianmen and Tian’anmen,
I took her to Houhai and Shichahai.
She didn’t say anything.
Every time we came across a clothes shop,
she wanted to have a look carefully.
Mother is like all women:
she likes beautiful clothes.
But I never knew that.
It was as if I had seen my mother
looking like a twelve-years-old girl.
She ran on the blooming hills
and rejoiced in a new dress.
Grannie died that year;
from then on, mum no longer dared to like clothes.
She brought up my little uncle,
she brought up Cao Shui and Cao Xi,
and let us go to school with the money saved on clothes.
Cao Xi became a doctor
at Chinese Academy of Sciences;
Cao Shui got a master’s degree
at Peking Normal University.
Mother was relieved at last.
She was there choosing a dress
and I could not help crying.
I always see my mother as a twelve-years-old girl.
A DREAM IN THE DEEPNESS
OF AZURE CLOUD TEMPLE
Dropping into the embrace of Fragrant Hill in the clouds,
Azure Cloud Temple is hidden within
and we hide deeper.
We enter through the mountain gate,
the courtyards unfold in succession.
Future is on the left and past is on the right.
We cross time’s corridor.
The passage of time opens,
straight to the center of the Five-Directions Pagoda.
We sit in the clouds
listening to the bells jingle and
chanting sutras in the absence of time.
We enter deeper Mandala,
we sleep in the middle.
The skyline overlooks the secular world.
In dreams we connect the future to the past
and, when we wake up, know everything.
ONE OF OUR DREAMS IS BETTER THAN
100,000 KINDS OF LIFE
People came from all directions
like rivers flowing back to the Highland,
like souls ascending the stars.
From China, India, Persia,
Greece, Egypt, Judea,
Jerusalem and Varanasi.
We arrived calmly too.
From Dunhuang to Babylon and Samarkand.
We arrived at the round top of the dome.
Tall stone pillars were erected up to the sky.
They entered through six doors,
we descended from the dome.
The Chinese spoke of the Yellow Emperor in Chinese;
the Greeks spoke of Zeus in Greek;
the Indians spoke of Indra in Hindi;
the Jews spoke of Jehovah in Jewish;
the Egyptians spoke of Ra, the God of Sun, in Egyptian;
the Persians spoke of Marduk in Persian.
They argued endlessly.
We couldn’t understand their language,
but we knew what they were talking about.
We read a lyric of the Tower of Babel:
words against people from all over the world.
They were all shocked
under the sun and the moon.
The Sumerians embraced the Akkadians;
Huangdi’s tribe danced with Yandi’s tribe;
the Cretans played with the Mycenaeans;
the Dravidians sang with the Aryans;
the Etruscans toasted to the Latins.
They came up and shook hands with us.
The Archangel Metatron came forward and sang:
“Your words are better than 100,000 books;
one of your poems is better than 100,000 languages;
one of your dreams is better than 100,000 kinds of life.
I’m Mithras, I’m Maitreya,
I’m the Archangel Metatron.”
We saw it from the dome.
The pillars around had a phallic shape;
our soft dome was a vagina.
The Archangel painted the Metatron’s cube:
the secret of everything was in their midst.
People were running on horses with two heads
to tell each other about themselves.
From Babylon,
from Chang’an to Luoyang,
Beijing, Nanjing, Kyoto,
Rome, Byzantium, Moscow, Vienna, Berlin,
New York, Los Angeles,
Machu Picchu and Tenochtitlan.
Our gathering was better than 100,000 meetings.
Everything started from here,
and everything will end here.
Eventually we will see our children and grandchildren
scattered all over the world.
——（Translated by Fiori Picco）（Selected from Flowers of Empire, Fiori D’Asia Editrice）
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