Honey Ginger Tea | Museum-Quality Art Print

On the ride home,
I watched the giant smokestack drift past—
slow,
its white steam
rising soundless.
The taste of suffocating sorrow
took hold of my chest.
Though each mile brought me closer to my father,
the gap in our lives
only widened.
Only the thinning air
still joined us.
In the dim view,
tainted with the scent of rust—
his thigh
gnawed to shadow,
flesh caving.
He shrank,
always
in one direction.
His face,
still enough
for me to recognize—
though the veins around his eyes
throbbed with unease.
There was that one day—
a sweltering afternoon,
years ago.
We’d just returned from the far-off fish pond.
The road home split
into sun-faded lanes.
Cool air blowing.
The music, loud—
my favorite.
He laughed,
eyes wide,
mocking my taste.
The cold
fogged the windshield.
I reached forward,
clearing it again and again.
Now,
those beads of water—
fragile, soft—
seem to have wrapped around our hearts
like happiness
on the verge
of breaking.

回家的车途中
我看着缓缓向后移动的巨大烟囱上
无声、白色的丛雾
体味窒息般的苦痛俘虏着我的心
我虽是离父亲越来越近
他与我生命的裂隙却越发巨大
唯有稀薄的空气将我们二人相连
昏暗，带有腐蚀气息的视野中
父亲的大腿像是被鬼魅啃剩下似的
骨肉凋落
他一直向一个方向畏缩着
神色空洞而木然
可他的面容依然留有可供我辨识的余地
尽管眼周的血管不安地肿胀——
多年前一个夏日酷热的午后
我们二人从遥远的鱼塘折返
开上一条斑驳陆离的歧路
冷气中，音响大声地放着我喜欢的歌曲
他则双眼瞪圆，讥笑我的品味
温度很低，车前窗渐渐朦胧
我懂事地探手接连抹除——
现在想来
当时那些微妙又模糊的点点水珠
真如包裹着二人心脏
一触即破的幸福一般