〈The Hualien–Taitung Railway〉 (Prose Poem)

 

The train departs from Su’ao Station, threading its way through mountains and ridges,

winding between seawater and the narrow stretch of coast.

The long railway is a zipper,

drawing together the steep coastal range and the surging Pacific Ocean.

The mountain’s quiet gravity and the sea’s restless uproar

seem joined in marriage by the railroad.

 

At times, the darkness of tunnels and the steady rhythm of wheels

make it feel as though we are buried underground,

our minds briefly suspended.

In the rumbling echoes, each passenger

sits silent as a lump of charcoal.

 

At times the view bursts open in sudden clarity,

as though we were unearthed relics brought back to light.

Between concealment and revelation,

flashes of shadow and brightness dart across my mind—

I feel like a strip of film exposed anew,

my once-calloused, numbed emotions

growing sensitive again.

 

Beyond the Suhua Cliffs, the train races through mist and waves,

like a dash in a sentence—

omitting the burden of description.

The highway, carved into cliffs,

carries cars in antlike processions.

The winding railway is a visible artery.

Sunlight and wind chase each other across the windows;

I am an oxygen-rich red blood cell,

charged ions coursing through me…

 

Inside the carriage, a group of students on their graduation trip

sing and strum guitars.

In the mirrored glass they appear

like a school of tropical fish in an aquarium,

radiant, awaiting appraisal.

Their music and laughter rub against the strings of my nerves,

until my heart, like an emptied soundbox,

cannot help but resonate with them…

 

The train pulls into Taimali Station.

Vendors’ cries rise and fall outside.

Through the window, a Chishang lunchbox is handed in,

its thin wooden box bearing a retro shape.

“Young man, bento!”

In my lens, an Indigenous old woman, her face tattooed,

smiles with innocence—

her expression like a wasabi blossom blooming in spring.

I press the shutter, pasting her image into this journey.

I think: this smile,

compared to all the landscapes along the way,

outshines them all.

 

Originally published in the Taiwan News Supplement, 2002

Selected in the anthology Sailing Toward Formosa, ed. Xiang Yang

〈花東鐵路〉 （散文詩）  

列車駛出蘇澳站一路穿山過嶺
蜿蜒在海水和狹長的海岸間
長長的鐵軌，是一條拉鍊
把陡峭的海岸山脈和波濤
洶湧的太平洋拉攏過來
山的沉靜穩重與海的喧嘩過動

似乎因為鐵路而聯姻

時而是黝黑的山洞和規律的車輪轉動聲

彷彿葬身地底，暫時失去思考能力

隆隆的回音裡每個人
都沉默如一截截木炭

時而豁然開朗，感覺是
被發掘出土的古物重見光華

於是動靜之間
腦海裡不停閃過或明或暗的光影

感覺自己是一只重新感光的底片

原本麻木結繭的情緒也逐漸敏感起來

 

經過蘇花斷，列車奔馳在水雲間

儼然是一只破折號，省略掉許多寫景的筆墨

公路嵌在山壁裡，來往的汽車排成行軍的蟻隊

蜿蜒的鐵軌是清析可見的動脈

陽光和風在車窗間追逐，我是帶氧的紅血球

重新充滿活力，帶電的離子在我體內流動……

車窗裡一票畢業旅行的大專生彈彈唱唱

鏡面的反映中，恰似一群水族箱中

待價而沽的熱帶魚神采奕奕

音符和笑聲磨擦著我的神經絃

我的心也不禁空出整個音箱，跟著共鳴起來……

 

列車進站，這裡是太麻里

小販吆喝聲此起彼落

窗口遞進來一只池上便當

薄木盒身的復古造型

「少年ㄝ，便當」

鏡頭裡一位黥面的原住民老婦人

無邪的笑顏是春天的山葵花

我按下快門，把婦人剪貼進這趟旅行中

我想，這朵笑容比起沿途的風景

肯定要燦爛許多

「台灣新聞報副刊」2002年

入選向陽主編《航向福爾摩沙》詩選集