Where the Boundaries Dissolve
By William He
A smear of dried bull's blood, a thumbprint of ink.
It stains the rusted wire at the field's edge,
Where a man in canvas crouches in the tall fescue.
Goodnight to the grit in the eyes and lungs,
As light turns to a gray, static hum,
The meadow dissolving into salt-flat blur.
A vein throbs against the cold walnut stock,
But the eye cannot see,
Where briars end and jacket begins.
Watch how the dark bleeds in,
Oil-slick shadows circle the boots,
Heavy as wet wool settling over ribs.
Boot treads press into frozen mud,
The trigger finger forgets its name,
As pulse slows to rhythmic thud.
Snagged on barbs, the denim hem tears,
Tripping through iron-jawed traps,
Knuckles turn the color of river ice.
Cached in the dirt: musk and salt,
Waiting for the lung to collapse on itself,
The kick of the rifle bruises the shoulder wood.
Against the flat, white sky,
Tracking the elk that refuses to vanish,
Half wet fur, half the trick of a failing eye.
疏影 题米罗《加泰罗尼亚风景》(猎人)画
作者:何威廉
残红点墨。
见远郊旷野,
孤影寥寂。
暂别凡尘,
魔幻初消,
荒原渐入虚白。
生机漫写微躯小,
谁识得、
猎场开辟。
算绝奇、
逐影浮游,
化作梦魂全息。
轻绘平涂故地,
竟谁为野物,
荒诞逻辑。
戳破樊篱,
陷阱重重,
不让理心远隔。
深藏隐喻情和欲,
正待那、
一枪余力。
向画中、
试问初心,
半幻半真颜色。
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem