〈Blade Light and Sword Shadow〉

A Short Collection / Chen Qu Fei

The Parting Blade

"Parting has always been painful" — Song Dynasty, Liu Yong, Rain on the Bells

At Fengbo Pavilion, I beg you to stay a while.
From here to Yangguan is a thousand miles; if fate allows reunion,
It will be in some vast, indistinct next life.
And that next life—perhaps on the Hexi road—
We’ll merely pass like merchants mistaken for strangers,
Even if there’s a sense of familiarity.

You linger without drinking the farewell wine.
You break off a stalk of the nine-jointed Miscanthus,
To brush away the rolling dust on the road.
An exile, like a northern horse leaning against the wind,
Homesick, I tuck the nine-jointed grass into my hair.
Sorrow beyond sorrow: life’s parting pain.
Parting is a double-edged sword.
The severed string’s other end—
A kite flying far away.
Since then, wind, sky, sea, and rain have all gone their separate ways.

The long hair you cut off
Is buried inside my collar; next spring,
It will root into my skin like dark strands,
Sprouting long tender branches.
If fortune favors me, perhaps
I can lean against the arrow-pocked city wall,
Cover the wound, endure it,
Recall the former beautiful days.
Leaving Fengbo Pavilion, twilight hangs low,
Wild geese circle but do not leave,
A wisp of smoke rises slowly—
My heart, the turmoil not yet ceased...

2005.01.05

The Broken Dream Blade

In the martial world, the saying goes:
Breaking the soul is easy, breaking the heart is hard,
Breaking the heart is hard, breaking the dream harder still.
— Poet Zhang Cuo, on the same theme

After drinking countless necks’ blood, a blade
Sleeps wrapped in its own killing aura.
And you—the swordsman—
Your dream-talk is as vivid as snowflakes,
Dancing wildly among the reeds by the riverbank.

On a fleshy-colored night, I return from the brothel with wine,
Just shedding the tight black clothes.
From afar come a few crow calls:
"Could it be someone’s come tonight seeking vengeance and failed?"
You suddenly flip over, sit up, and grab your long blade.
Under moonlight, you stroke your beard and drink.
Your sharp figure is like a cold blade.

I recall that year at Black Wood Cliff,
You challenged the seven disciples of Wudang alone, sword moving in seven stars pattern.
Your long blade circled in the sword formation—at the critical moment,
Still maneuvering with ease, like clouds following dragons,
Like a close-to-heart quatrain, carrying a risky rhyme,
Rising sharply from the rhythm of the flourishing Tang Dynasty,
A thunderclap that stunned the heroes present.

After all, I’m just a poor scholar,
Failed in the imperial exam, drifting in the martial world.
A few volumes of songs and poems, often treated by courtesans as appetizers with wine.
You, though, did not abandon me and took me as a true friend.
You said: a blade should only be used for killing,
But songs and poems entertain and delight.
Blades can cut dreams, but songs and poems can cut sorrow’s knot.
So I believed this life would not be only about tones and rhymes,
Nor just a series of sentimental duels.

2005.02.27

Sword of Sorrowful Heart

Thick wine hits the throat, fierce blood heat suddenly stings the forehead.
The chest surges like waves pounding the shore.
I can’t help but recall countless fierce fights and duels.
The so-called fame of swordsmen is simply being better skilled,
Living longer than the opponent.

At my waist is a fine steel ancient sword, its blade blunt,
Stained with layers of blood. When I parted from my master,
He repeatedly reminded me: the sword of justice
Must only strike down great evildoers.
Alas, in the martial world, one is never truly free.
There are always disciples from various schools, eager for fame,
Seeking me in brothels and taverns,
Refusing to believe in superstition, challenging me to fights.

They are neither villain nor tyrant; how could I strike hard?
But one act of mercy bred more enemies.
The whole country soon knew seeking me to duel
Is like consulting a martial arts manual—
Instantly one advances to a higher level.
The young swordsmen wounded by my blade number in the hundreds,
But I have killed few evildoers.
Legend has it, whoever can take my life could command the world.
Thus, both the underworld and the law see me as their top nemesis,
Leaving me dumbfounded and furious.
Downing more wine, the fumes circulate but do not dissipate,
A thousand knots of sorrow twist inside, so I rise to wield my sword...

Intent with sword, but no sword moves,
Mind directs sword; man and blade as one, called “Taiji.”
This realm can only be grasped, not spoken.
Wine loosens my sorrows; the sword is my confidant.
Half a lifetime drifting in the martial world, south and north,
Every page filled with flashing blades and sword shadows,
Battling for victory in every move and counter.

2015.05.18

Snow Moon Curved Blade

The sky, like a vast dome, covers wilderness and wasteland.
On the great desert falls the first snow.
A swordsman rides from the north,
Passing by my tent, dismounts, and asks for wine and meat.
We drink together under the moon.
He holds a curved blade inset with wolf’s teeth,
Shaped like a crescent moon or long bow.
The blade’s blood aura under the cold moonlight
Emits a chilling radiance, intensely threatening.

The swordsman sits cross-legged, holding the blade up with his left hand,
Showing this Snow Moon Curved Blade.
Rumors in the martial world say this blade, once unsheathed,
Is like a starving wolf, thirsting for human blood.
Tonight I feed it with my finger’s blood.
The ceramic bowl of strong liquor
Suddenly turns blood red.
The swordsman drinks the blood wine, leans on his blade, and asks:
"Young brother, do you have enemies?
I have traveled thousands of miles to help you settle scores."

I was once a youthful officer, skilled in martial arts,
Committed to guarding the borders, protecting the people.
Once slandered by eunuchs in court,
Exiled to the northern wilderness, tortured by guards,
My hand tendons cut, a life barely hanging on.
In the desert, I earn a living herding sheep.
Telling him my life story,
The swordsman grasped my wrist, locating my pulse,
Used true energy to unblock the six meridians and reconnect severed tendons.
He rose with a sigh, performing a lightning-fast sword technique.

He took off the sword manual from his waist and gave it to me.
Stroking his beard, he sighed: "This deep grudge—
Young brother, spend ten years or so mastering my blade technique,
You must personally settle the score!
When that time comes, I will wait for you at Yanmen Pass.
Bring this curved blade with you into the capital,
Strike down those treacherous dogs, their heads like dog’s heads.
Then the two of us, master and disciple, will return to the desert,
Herd sheep and drink strong liquor."

2016.05.17

〈刀光劍影〉  小輯∕陳去非
《離別刀》

多情自古傷別離－宋。柳永《雨霖鈴》

到了風波亭，請卿留步

此去陽關千里，若有後會

應是茫茫來生

而來生，說不定河西道上

彼此只是錯身而過的商旅

縱然似曾相識

餞別水酒妳遲遲不飲

折一支九節芒花，為我

拂開道路上滾滾煙塵

流刑之人，如胡馬之倚北風

望鄉之際，我把九節芒插在鬢髮間

悲莫悲兮，生別離

別離是一把雙面刃

割斷的線，那端

一只風箏遠颺而去

從此天風海雨各奔東西

妳剪下的那絡長髮

埋在衣襟裡，來年春天

它會像青絲般，根紮進我的肌膚

伸出長長的嫩枝

如果我的運氣好些，也許

可以斜靠在滿是斷箭的城垛上

捂住箭創，忍著

回想往昔的良辰美景

離開風波亭，暮靄沉沉

大雁盤旋不去，一縷荒煙嬝然升起

我的心，風波未息……

20050105

《斷夢刀》
 江湖素有傳言： 斷魂容易斷腸難，斷腸難，斷夢更難。
    －－詩人張錯同題

飲過無數頸血，一把刀

裹著自身的殺氣入睡

而你，刀客

你的夢話繽紛如雪花

飛舞，在江邊蘆葦的亂髮間

肉色的夜，我從青樓沽酒回來

才脫下墨黑的緊身衣

遠處傳來幾聲鴉啼

「莫非，今夜又有人來尋仇不成？」

你突然翻身坐立，抄起長刀

月光裡，你捋鬚飲酒

銳利的身影一如森冷的刀刃

想起那年，黑木崖一役

你單挑武當七子，劍走七星

一把長刀圈在劍陣裡，間不容髮之際

猶能游走自如，如雲之從龍

如一帖近人絕句，押著險韻

從盛唐鏗然的節奏間，浪尖兒地拔起

一聲霹靂，令滿座英雄豪傑摒息俱驚

終究，我只是一介寒士

科場失意，落拓於江湖

幾卷歌詩，常被歌妓當成下酒的小菜

蒙你不棄剖心交陪

你說：刀，只能用來殺人

不如歌詩自娛娛人

刀能斷夢，歌詩卻能了斷愁腸

於是，我信此生不會只有平仄和對仗

不會只是一場又一場，感性的對決

20050227

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

《愁腸劍》
濁酒入喉，濃烈的血氣瞬間回嗆腦門
胸口間洶湧翻滾，如驚濤拍岸
不免想起數不清那些惡鬥和對決
所謂的劍客俠名，無非是技勝一籌
性命，活得比對手還長些

腰間這口精鋼古劍，劍刃無鋒
裹著層層血漬，當年拜別師門
家師再三叮嚀正義之劍
只斬大奸大惡之徒
無奈人在江湖，難免身不由自己
總有各門各派，急於成名的後輩
尋我於歌樓酒肆裡
偏不信邪，來找我下戰帖

他們非奸非惡，我豈下得來重手？
沒想到一念之仁，仇家越結越多
搞得大江南北都曉得，找我比劍
就跟翻閱一冊武功秘笈那樣，立馬更上層樓
傷在我劍下的青年劍客不下百千
奸惡之徒，其實前後沒殺幾個
江湖盛傳能取我性命者，當可號令天下
於是黑道白道，都當我是頭號宿敵
令我為之傻眼，為之氣結
濁酒下肚，酒氣逆行周身鬱積不散
愁腸百千結，只好起身舞劍…

心中有劍意，手中無劍招
意指劍使，人劍合一謂之「太極」
這境界當真只能意會不能言傳
酒解我愁緒，劍視我為知己
半生漂泊江湖，江南江北
每一頁無非是刀光劍影
都是在一招半式間，計較輸贏…

20150518

 

 

 

 

 

《雪月彎刀》
天似穹廬籠蓋四野八荒
大漠之上初雪紛飛
刀客自北方騎馬而來
經過氈帳，下馬跟我討酒肉
我與他月下共飲
他手握一把鑲狼牙彎刀
形似弦月長弓
刀刃上的血氣，清冷月光下
閃放寒光張力逼人

刀客盤坐，左手提懸
出示這把雪月彎刀
江湖素有傳聞此刀出鞘
如餓狼，必痛飲人血

我今以指血餵食
陶碗裡的白乾烈酒
倏地染成血紅
刀客飲下血酒，扶刀相問
小兄弟可結有仇家？

某不辭千百里，將代為弭平

我本是青年校尉，一身武藝
志在戍衛邊關保境安民
當年遭朝中閹臣奸佞讒言
流放北大荒，途中押解官私刑
挑斷我手筋，一條殘命埋首
大漠，在羊圈裡討生活
聽我訴說平生遭遇
刀客掐住我手腕脈門
以真氣打通仁督六脈接續斷筋
慨然起身，舞了一套閃電刀法

刀客解下腰間刀譜相贈
捋鬚長嘆：這切身的怨仇

小兄弟，十年八載潛心修練我刀法
你得親手去做個了結！
屆時我在雁門關上等你
彎刀給你提進京城去
直取了那幫狗奴才，項上狗頭
咱師徒倆回大漠，放羊喝燒酒

20160517