叶延滨简介


    叶延滨,1948年11月生, 当代诗人、作家。现任中国作家协会诗歌委员会主任。曾先后任《星星》主编及《诗刊》主编,中国作家协会第六、七、八届全国委员会委员。迄今已出版个人文学专著48部,作品自1980年以来先后被收入了国内外500余种选集以及大学、中学课本。部分作品被译为英、法、俄、意、德、日、韩、罗马尼亚、波兰、马其顿文字。作品曾获中国作家协会优秀中青年诗人诗歌奖( 1979-1980)、中国作家协会第三届新诗集奖( 1985-1986),以及四川文学奖、《十月》文学奖、青年文学奖等50余种文学奖。

干妈


作者:叶延滨 | 2019/1/17 13:15:27  | 浏览:199


干 妈
 
——陕北记事之一
 
  她没有自己的名字
 
她没有死一
她就站在我的身后,
笑着,张开豁了牙的嘴巴。
 
我不敢转过脸去,
那只是冰冷的墙上的一张照片一
她会合上干瘪的嘴,
我会流下苦涩的泪。
十年前,我冲着这豁牙的嘴,
喊过:干妈.....
 
我驮着一个狗崽子的档案袋
到圣地延安,
为父母赎罪一一
 
为他们有神的力量,
没有在监狱,炮火中倒下
为他们有人的弱点,
在和平的年代也生下我这个娃娃!
为他们在语言当子弹的战场,
只会说实话的嘴巴,
被无数弯着的舌头打垮......
 
带色的风清扫这狼藉的战场,
我是卷进黄土高原的一粒砂
 
连知青也像躲避瘟疫样讨厌我
丧家狗一实际, 也不算难听的话。
 
孩子,住到我们家吧。
!我不需要听怜悯的话。”“
孩子,我们老两口也要个帮手,
我为你做饭,你替咱担水......”
也许,这只是一个借口,
但我的自尊的天平需要这块砝码!
 
从此,我有了一个家,
我叫她:干妈。
因为,像这里任何一个老大娘,
她没有自己的名字,
王树清的婆姨人们这样喊......
 
  灯,一颗燃烧的心
 
穷山村最富裕的东西是长长的夜,
穷乡亲最美好的享受是早早地睡。
但对我,太长的夜有太多的噩梦,
我在墨水瓶做的油灯下读书,
贪婪地吮吸豆粒一样大的光明!
今天,炕头上放一盏新罩子灯,
明晃晃,照花了我的心。
干妈,你何苦为我花这一块二,
要三天的劳动,值三十个工分!
 
深夜,躺在炕上,我大睁着眼睛,
想我那关在牛棚里的母亲......
 
疯婆子,风雪天跑三十里买盏灯,
有本事腿痛你别哼哼!”
悄些,别把人家娃吵醒,
年轻人爱光,怕黑洞洞的坟!
干妈,话音很低,哼得也很轻......
 
啊,在风雪山路上,
一个裹着小脚的老大娘捧一盏灯......
天哪,年轻人,为照亮人走的路,你为什么没有胆量像丹柯,
掏出你燃烧的心? !
 
  铁丝上,搭着两条毛巾
 
带着刺鼻的烟锅味,
带着呛人的汗腥味,
带着从饲养室沾上的羊臊味,
还有从老汉脖子上擦下来的
黄土,汗碱,粪沫,草灰......
 
没几天,我雪白的洗脸巾变成褐色,
大叔,他也使唤我的毛巾。
我不声不响地从小箱子里,
又拿出一条毛巾搭在铁丝上,
两条毛巾像两个人一一
一个苍老,
一个年轻。
 
但傍晚,在这条铁丝上,
只剩下一条搓得净净的毛巾。
 
干妈,当着我的面,
把新毛巾又塞到我的小箱里:
娃娃别嫌弃你大叔,
他这个一辈子粪土里滚的受苦人,
心,还净......"
 
啊。我不敢看干妈的眼睛,
怕在这镜子里照出一个并不干净的灵魂!
 
  夜啊,静悄悄的夜
 
困,像条长长的绳子把手脚捆紧
,像桶稠稠的糨糊把眼皮糊紧,
,像团厚厚的棉花把耳朵塞紧,
乏极了的身体在暖暖的炕上,
一团轻飘飘的浮云。
 
那闪亮的是星星么?不,是油灯。
那苍白的头发是谁?啊,是干妈。
夜,静悄悄的夜里我醒来,
只见干妈那双树皮一样的手,
在搜着我衣衫的缝......
 
也许,用诗来描绘这太粗俗的事,
我一辈子也不会成为诗人。
但,我不脸红一一
我染上了一身的讨厌的虱子,
干妈在灯下把它们找寻。
 
妈妈,我远方牛棚"里的亲妈妈呀,
你决不会想到你的儿子多幸运,
像安泰,找到了大地的母亲!
我没有敢惊动我的干妈,
两行泪水悄悄地往下滚......
 
哎,准又梦见妈了,可怜娃!”
她轻轻抹去我脸颊上的泪花。
我轻轻在心里喊了一声妈妈。
啊,暖暖的热炕上我像轻飘飘的云,
暖烘烘的云裹着一颗腾腾跳的心!
 
  我怎能吃下这碗饭
 
我怎能吃下这碗饭,
干妈呀,我的好干妈!”
 
留给我的,
一碗米饭金黄,
洋芋酸菜喷香。
留给你的,
一碟苦苦菜,
一碗清米汤,
一个窝头半把糠...
 
你不要说,
你不要讲,
要不是我碰上,
你不会说,
你不会讲,
你还会像昨天那样,
笑着看我吃得多香......“
 
延安啊,革命的穷娘
贫瘠的山冈,
枯瘦的胸膛
给人吃米,自己吞糠,
过去这样,现在这样,
见到三五九旅的老将,
当儿孙的昨有脸讲? !
 
我用颤抖的双手捧着碗,
像婴儿捧着母亲干瘪的乳房......
 
  我愧对她头上的白发
 
十年,在九百六十万平方公里舞台
有多少个悲欢离合,多少个想不到?......
我多么不愿用一滴辛酸的泪
作为对干妈所有美好回忆的句号!
啊,十月的鞭炮炸响,
乡亲们才告诉我这个噩耗,
三年前,她就死了,
死于陕北最平平常常的病,
胃出血,加上年老......
啊,三年!是哪一个好心的乡亲,
在骗我。每月一次地:
放心吧,我很好、很好!”
 
谁呢 !怪谁?谁!
没牙的嘴啃着羼糠的窝窝,
佝偻的腰背着沉重的柴草
贫闲一一熬尽了她生命的最后一滴血,
枯了,像一根草......
 
!这个回答,我接受不了,
延安,四十年前红星就在这里照耀!
她说过,当她还是一个新媳妇,
也演过《兄妹开荒》,
唱过挖掉了穷根根眉梢梢笑”!
 
共产党人好比种子,人民好比土地。
啊,请百倍爱护我们的土地吧一
如果大地贫瘠得像沙漠,像戈壁,
任何种子,都将失去发芽的生命力! !
干妈, 我愧对你满头的白发......
 
干妈,你咧开豁牙的嘴笑了,
告诉我,你那没合上的嘴,
想对我说些什么话? ! ......
 
   《诗刊》198010月首届青春诗会专号
 
 
Foster Mother
 
——One of the Sketches in Shaanbei
 
  She Has No Name of Her Own
 
Death hasn't brought her away
She is just standing behind me
Smiling with her mouth open yet without teeth
 
I dare not turn around
To look at the photo on the cold wall
She will close her shrivelled mouth
While I will shed my bitter tears
Ten year ago, towards the mouth, I called her Foster mother…
 
With a label“offspring of evildoers"
I came to Yan'an, the holy land
To redeem the sin of my parents
For they were blessed by the God
They did not fall in prison or gunfire of enemys
For they had the weakness of human nature
They gave birth to me in peaceful time
For they were on battlefield where the language was used as bullet
Their mouths that did not spit out lies
Were defeated by countless perverse tongues……
 
The abnormal wind swept the confusing battlefield
And I was a grain of sand being blown in the Loess Plateau
 
I was even detested by educated youths to whom I was plague
Stray dog- in fact was not the worst to be described
 
“Come on in our home, kid"
"No! I need no sympathy."
"We need a helping hand, kid."
"I will prepare food for you, and you carry water for us…"
Maybe, it was only an excuse to comfort me
But I did need it at that time as a weight
For my scale of dignity!
 
Since then. I had a home
And I called her foster mother
Like every aged woman there
She had no name of her own
People called her "wife of Wang Shuqing"
 
  Lamp, a Burning Heart
 
The richest thing in a poor hamlet was the long night
The most pleasant enjoyment of the poor folks was to sleep early
But to me, a longer night meant more nightmares
So I read under an oil lamp made of an ink bottle
The gleam of light was dim, but so precious to me
 
Another day, I found a new lamp on my Kang
The light of it was so bright and warmed my heart
My foster mother, the lamp cost you so much
It equaled your labor in three days!
 
At midnight, on Kang. I opencd my eyes wide
To picture my moher who was confined  in Mind...
 
"Crazy  woman, you walked thirty miles ,only to buy this
lamp in such a stormy day
You will moan for your hurt legs for sure!”
“Quiet. do not disturb the sleeping child
Young people like light ,and they are afraid of the graves in darkness!"
My foster mother was in a low voice speaking
AS well as moaning...
 
O, along the foopath of the mountain in storm
Was an old woman with bound feet holđing a lamp
My goodness, young man, to light up the road for others
Why didn't you inherit the courage from Denko
——To show your burning heart?!
 
  Two Towels
 
With the smoky smell of cigarette
With the harsh smell of sweat
With the foul smell of sheepfold
And with dust, sweat, dung foam, grass ash...
That scrubbed down from the neck of the old man
 
My white towel became brown in a few days
Theuncle used my towel
Without saying anything I took out a new one from my chest
And hung it on the rope
The two towels were like too men—
One old
Another young
 
But in the evening, on the rope
Only one hung there and was washed clean
 
In front of me, my foster mother
Put the new towel back to my small chest and said 
"Young man, please do not detest your uncle
All his life he suffered the labor on the soil
But pure is his heart...”
 
O,I dared not to look into my foster mother's eyes
For fear to see an impure soul through the mirror!
 
  Night, Silent Night
 
Sleepiness, tied my hands and feet like a long rope
Sleepiness, covered my eyes like a tub of thick paste
Sleepiness, crammed my ears like a mess of cotton
Lying on the warm Kang, my body that was too tired
Was like a soft floating cloud
 
Was it a star shing? No, it was an oil lamp
Who was that with grey  hair?O, it was my foster mom
The tranquil night when I woke up
Saw my foster mother's hands, rough like tree bark
Searching through my clothes
 
Perhaps I will never become a poet
For describing such vulgar thing in poem
But, I do not blush for that—
I was bothered by the loathsome lice
She was looking for them under the lamp
 
My mother, the one who was in cowshed faraway
You would never imagine how lucky your son was
Like Antaeus, who found his mother Gaia!
I did not stop my foster mother
But tears went down on my cheeks...
 
“Poor child, it must be a dream of his mother!
She swept away the tears on my face slightly
I called her “mom” in my mind
O, on the warm Kang l was like a floating cloud
My beating heart was embraced by the warm cloud!
 
  How Can I Eat It?
 
“How can I eat it?
My foster mother,my good foster mother!”
 
What you gave me
Was a bowl of rice as shiny golds
Was a smell of potato and sauekraut
While what you have
Was a plate of unsavory wild herb
A bowl of rice water
A corn-bread and a little bran...
 
You never said that
If didn't see it
You would never say
You would be as the same as you were yesterday
Looking at my gobbling in smile...
 
O, Yan’an, the poor mother of revolution
The barren mountains
The scraggy bosom
Gave the best to others, and left the worst to yourself
You were always the most generous one
When I met the old soldiers who were in Yan'an in war time
I would be too ashamed to tell them about that
 
I held the bowl in my tembling hands
Like a baby holding the wizened breast of her mother...
 
  I Feel Guilty to See Her Grey Hair
 
In a decade, on the stage of 9.6 million square kilometers
How nany tragedies and comedies, how many suprises took place?
How unwilling I was to use bitter tears
As the end mark of the good memory to my foster mother
O, the folks did not tell me until the firerackers' sound came to my ears
That she had passed away three years ago
She died of the most usually seen illness in Shaanbei
Gastrorrhagia, and her old age...
Ah, for three years! I had believed that
She was fine! ,
 
For whom I was to blame? Whom? Whom?!
Just took corn-bread as food
With the firewood on her bent back
Poverty--exhausted her last blood
She was withered like a straw
 
No, I can not accept the answer
Yan'an, the red star has been shining here for forty years!
She said it when she was a bride
She once played on stage in
Brother and Sister Open Up Wasteland
Sang remove the poverty and smile on the eyebrows
 
"The communists are like seeds; the people are like the soil."
O,please cherish our soil—
If the earth were barren like desert, or wasteland
Every seed would lose its vitality to sprout!
—Foster mother, I feel guilty to see your grey hair...
 
Foster mother, you smiled with your teeth lost
Tell me, what would your still open mouth
like to tell?
 
Published on the Special lssue of the Youth Poetry
Seminar of poetry Monthly, in October, 1980
 

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