《翡冷翠：最后的献祭》
明天是一场不告而别的潮汐。
你随水而去，
而我愿意沉入海床，
成为那块最不被看见的定石。
别回头。
别看这满室的残骸——
我正把它们一件件点燃，
为你照亮一条
我注定不能踏上的、
湿漉漉的远路。
那片红叶，
是我从你影子里偷来的
最后一点温度。
我不把它贴近心口——
那太轻了。
我要将它碾碎，
让红色进入骨髓，
当我行走，
关节的摩擦声，
就像你在我体内
轻声呼唤。
翡冷翠的夜
正缓慢地发酵，
整座城
被酿成一壶深紫色的毒。
没关系，
我来替你饮下。
我愿意让黑暗
在肺腑中结冰，
只为你经过的月光
保持绝对的清洁。 我不惧永别，
我只怕
你的鞋尖
沾上一点
关于我的灰。
你走吧。
我正像剥一枚橘子
剥开自己的灵魂，
把多余的颤抖
一层层折进夜色。
我不冷。
我正抱着你留下的那团虚无，
把它搓成火，
炼成金。
这是我所能完成的
最后一件
无用之事。
若你觉得寒，
那是因为
我的体温
已隔空缝进你的大衣。
别回头。 我在这里，
把自己
活成一座
为你守夜的荒冢。
Fiesole: The Final Offering Tomorrow is a tide that leaves without farewell.
You go with the water. I remain—
willing to sink quietly into the seabed,
an unseen stone holding nothing in place. Do not turn back.
The room smells faintly of smoke. I am lighting what remains,
not in rage—
just enough flame
to show you the wet road
I was never meant to walk. That scarlet leaf—
the last warmth borrowed from your shadow—
I will not press it to my chest.
That would be too kind. Instead, I grind it slowly,
watch the red stain my fingertips,
as if color alone
could travel deeper. So that when I move,
when the joints shift in the quiet,
the sound might resemble
your voice—
not calling,
just existing somewhere inside me. The night in Fiesole thickens.
Windows darken one by one.
The air tastes faintly metallic. If there is poison in it,
let it be mine. I will breathe in what lingers.
Let it settle.
Let it harden where it must—
so that whatever moonlight once touched you
remains untouched by me. I am not afraid of parting.
I only fear
that the tip of your shoe
might carry away
one grain of what I have burned. Go. I am peeling my own soul
the way one peels an orange—
careful not to tear too much at once,
folding each loosened thread
into the dark. I am not cold.
The space you left
fits exactly between my hands. I rub it slowly
until it grows warm—
not gold,
just warm enough
to survive the night. This is the last thing
I can finish. If you feel a chill later,
perhaps it is only this:
some small portion of my heat
threaded, without ceremony,
into the lining of your coat. Do not look back. I remain here—
still breathing—
keeping watch
over what has already gone.
|
