商禽·《雪》英译

我把一页信纸从反面折叠，这样比较白幸好那人不爱两面都写。叠了又叠，再斜叠，成一个锥形。再用一把小剪刀来剪，又剪又挖，然后<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" />

我老是以为，雪是这样造成的：把剪好的信纸展开来，还好，那人的字迹纤细一点也不会透过来，白的，展开，六簇的雪花就摊在腊黄的手掌上。然而

在三千公尺或者更高的空中，一群天使面对下界一个大广场上肢体的狼籍，手足无措，而气温突然降至零度以下，他们的争辩与嗟叹逐渐结晶而且纷纷飘堕。

Snow

Shang Qin

I fold a letter from the back, it’s whiter on this side, a good thing that man doesn’t like to write on both sides. I fold it and fold it again, then fold it diagonally into a cone, then cut it with a small pair of scissors, cut it and poke it, then

I’ve always thought snow is made this way: I open the cut-out letter, it’s a good thing that man’s handwriting is so light that it doesn’t show through, white, spread out, a six-petaled snowflake lies on a yellow palm of hand.

Yet in the sky three thousand kilometers above or even higher, a group of angels are at their wits’ end when they are faced with the littering bodies on a big square below, and as the temperature suddenly drops below zero, their arguments and sighs gradually crystallize and fall one by one.