Autumn '22 Issue | 2022 秋季刊
Thoughts
by Shirani Rajapakse
We have lost our way
hurrying
towards the future with no
consideration for the present
the past the glories we shared.
There is healing in knowledge
but no one wants
to acknowledge
debts to the past
the people
the ancestors all those
who came before.
We’ve done nothing but
take take take
without a thought to the damage to our selves,
our bodies.
Our beliefs turned
upside down.
Our lives torn out trees
wrenched out roots and all and we
perish like stale milk turning sour
curdling changing ugly yellow
then gone
forever.
Shirani Rajapakse is a Sri Lankan poet and short story writer. Her publications include the award-winning Chant of a Million Women and I Exist. Therefore I Am. Rajapakse’s work also appears in Buddhist Poetry, Silver Birch, Cyclamens & Swords, Asian Signature, New Verse News and more.
思绪
翻译：诗验室
我们已迷失方向
急促走
向未来而不
考虑现在
过去 我们共同的辉煌。
知识可以治愈
但是无人愿意
承认
过去的债
人们
祖先 所有的
过来人。
我们除了索取索取索取
别无作为
根本没有考虑到给自己和身体
所造成的伤害。
我们的信仰
乱七八糟。
我们的生活面目全非树
被强行拔起连根带土然后我们
消失无踪 一如困住的牛奶变酸
凝结蜕变又丑又黄
然后从此
一去不复返。
Shirani Rajapakse 是一位斯里兰卡诗人与短篇小说家。她出版过的书籍有获过奖的《百万女人的呐喊》与《我存。故我在。》她的一些作品还曾出现于《Buddhist Poetry》、《Silver Birch》、《Cyclamens & Swords》、《Asian Signature》、《New Verse News》等处。
它不会降临
作者：李曼旎
它不会降临在夏日，绝望的
相同的死期。在见到你的
第一面，我所记得的所有
只剩下我的季节。那里有着
致死般炎毒的空气，流放
的鱼群散发出香味，回不来的人
反复叩着门，他们所说的神迹
其实和任何一块血糊糊的宝石
都没有区别，所有能被命运
取代的东西，都不再是我的结局。
三月适合埋葬，四月适合祈祷，
而困厄的五月适合什么？是注定的
死亡让我有希望，在破碎的
眼睑上，看见相似的蔷薇花盛开。
李曼旎，2002年生于广州。
It Will Not Descend
translated by PLS
It will not descend on a summer’s day, hopeless
same day of death. Upon our
first encounter, all I could recall
was my seasons. There the air
incurably toxic, deported
fish oozing a pleasant smell, those un-returnable
knocking on the door over and over again, the miracle
they mentioned was no different to any
bloody diamond, those interchangeable
with fate, are no longer my ending.
March is good for burials, April for praying,
and for what is the distressed May? It’s the predestined
death that gives me hope, over broken
eyelids, seeing the blooming of indistinguishable roses.
Li Manni, born in Guangzhou in 2002.
Oblivion
by Evvy
Looming tides from afar
Fall on anonymous
Attics
Bursts of laughter
Or cry
Crystallize into
Teardrops
Bitterness equals
The sentiment we recall
With one eye
I saw a dynasty that night.
Evvy, currently lives in Shanghai.
遗忘
翻译：诗验室
远处隐约可见的潮
落在匿名的
阁楼
一阵阵欢笑
或者哭泣
结晶成
泪珠
苦楚等同于
我们忆起的忧伤
那晚用一只眼
我看见了一个王朝
Evvy，现居上海。
思妇
作者：袁婵
爸爸，你今天
又回来晚了
白色的狗吃掉了你
一半生活的清醒
你说你不想吵架
你关上门
沙发不在家，家里
没有妈妈
他多么像你
爸爸
冰箱贴着待办事件
电话无声，狗在呼吸
它看着我，我也看着我
你既在，又不在
爸爸——我们的餐桌
也是这样的灯吧
你曾在归还我的时间中
拥抱我，在永恒的白昼里
凝望我，他多么像你
爸爸，也会把云朵盛满饭碗
每道菜都是四月的杜鹃
而我在秋天
既想，又不想
爸爸，他像你
醉酒的人转过身
背上爬满火红的蚂蚁
如果十年前你没有
走进那条深深深深的隧道
我是不是不会在这里等他
爸爸
袁婵，作者、翻译。诗作散见《香港文学》《台湾诗学》《新加坡文艺》等刊物。
the abandoned woman
translated by PLS
father, today you
came back late again
the white dog had eaten up
half of your life’s sense
you said you didn’t want to argue
you shut the door
the sofa was not home, there was
no mother
how he resembled you
father
to-do list sticky notes on the fridge
telephone silent, the dog is breathing
watching me, I watch myself
you’re both there, and not there
father — our dining table
there was also a lamp like this
you once hugged me in the time
that was given back to me, in the eternal daytime
staring at me, how he resembled you
father, he would fill the bowl with clouds too
every dish is the azaleas of April
yet I was in the Autumn
both missing, and not missing
father, he resembled you
the drunk who turned around
flaming ants over his back
if ten years ago you did not
walked into that deep deep tunnel
would I not then be here waiting for him
father
Yuan Chan, writer and translator, her works have been published in Hong Kong Literature, Poetry in Taiwan, Singapore Literature and more.
from things to ban
for Joseph F. Glidden
by Roy Duffield
there’s no-one around
for hundreds of miles
but a spine and its ribs
hang
the wire that cuts divisive
the land—the next half-
swaddled in its former skin stiffened,
ripped away at
the edges—
the tattered albiceleste waving to no-one
never left
to rest in peace
by the Patagonia winds—the next
still has its eyes big beautiful
and dead—the next—
the next—every few yards
the next—until the one that still struggles
the one that could still be saved.
But living is the only state
never hang-
ing here on display (and besides
there’s no-one around
for hundreds of miles). What
were they thinking
as they lost their last blood
to the desert shrubs
to the barbs
that protect
the absent owners’
land? There’s no-one around
for hundreds of miles
Roy Duffield is a writer, translator, and editor at Anti-Heroin Chic. He is a winner of the Robert Allen Micropoem Contest (2021). His poetry has been published in Flights (Flight of the Dragonfly Press), White Enso, Seppuku Quarterly and so on.
取自《禁止之物》
致约瑟夫·格里登
翻译：诗验室
方圆数百里内
空无一人
然而一条脊椎及其肋骨
悬挂着
将土地分割开来的
铁丝 — 下一个几乎
被其僵硬的旧皮裹住，
在边缘处
被撕开 —
破旧的阿根廷国旗不向任何人打招呼
从未离开
要想在巴塔哥尼亚的风中
安息 — 下一个
眼睛仍在又大又美
又死气沉沉 — 下一个 —
下一个 — 每走几步
下一个 — 直到仍在挣扎的那个
本可以被拯救的那个。
但生存是唯一一种
从不悬
挂在此处被展示的状态（再说了
方圆数百里内
空无一人）。当最后一位后代
因那些用以
保护无人守护之地
的荒漠灌木
与倒刺
而失去性命时他们在想
什么？方圆数百里内
空无一人
Roy Duffield，作者，翻译，兼文艺期刊“Anti Heroin Chic”的编辑。他是2021年 Robert Allen 微诗大赛的获奖者。他的作品散见于《Flights》、《White Enso》与《Seppuku Quarterly》等处。
我
作者：Mary Ventura
希望、失望、绝望、渴望、奢望、巴望、指望，可是，我是个瞎子。
听话、听任、听命、听信、听政、听说、听凭，可是，我是个聋子。
可悲、可叹、可笑、可怜、可惜、可取、可能，可是，我只能
听从、跟从、盲从、顺从、服从、遵从，能不能不从？
Mary Ventura，翻译。其中文诗歌及书评散见于《声韵诗刊》、《文讯》、《Cha》期刊等处。英文诗歌见于《SAND》, 《Asymptote》期刊 “Translation Tuesdays”，《Voice & Verse》 等杂志。创办并主编《字缚》杂志（目前创刊号征稿中）。
Me
translated by PLS
(In Chinese) there’s a vision in hope, disappointment, despair, desire, chimera, expectation, and yet, I am blind;
it requires listening to be obedient, to let alone, to take orders, to attend to state affairs, to hear of things, to allow, and yet, I am deaf.
and an ability to be pathetic, regrettable, laughable, pitiful, sorrowful, commendable, possible, and yet, I am only able
to obey, to tag along, to follow blindly, to yield, to devote, to comply, can I not agree?
Mary Ventura, translator. Her Chinese poems and book reviews have been published in Voice & Verse, Wen Hsun, Cha Journal, and her English poems have appeared in SAND, Asymptote Journal “Translation Tuesdays”, Voice & Verse. She also founded Zi Fu magazine.
everything in ruins
by Simon Alderwick
I've been working on this poem so long
vines and tree roots have wrapped around my feet.
Sometimes they squeeze as they crawl up my legs,
breaking my concentration. I look down;
grass and weeds are sprouting through the floorboards.
I look up and see the walls are all cracked.
I turn my head, look outside for the first
time in a long time. Tall trees and forest
where the high street used to be. A wild hog
mauls one of my neighbours, and hawks swoop down
on the remains. If I could just finish
another couple of lines, I think, but
the ceiling caves in and I'm blinded by
sunlight. I'm forced to abandon my work.
Simon Alderwick is from London, England but currently lives in the Philippines. His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Magma, Acid Bath, Dust, Poetry Salzburg, London Grip and elsewhere.
废墟中的一切
翻译：诗验室
这么长时间以来我一直在写这首诗
藤状植物与树根已将我的脚重重包围。
有时候他们在顺着我的大腿攀爬时会挤压它，
分散了我的注意力。我低头一看；
杂草正从地板间长出。
我抬头，看见墙壁都已裂开。
我转头，已经很久没有这么
往外看了。原来的商业街
已被树木和森林占据。一只野猪
弄伤我的一位邻居，老鹰直冲而下
扑向残骸。如果我可以再写
两三行，我想，可是
屋顶下陷，阳光使我
双眼灼痛。我被迫放弃这首诗。
Simon Alderwick 来自英国伦敦，现居住于菲律宾。其作品已（或即将）发表于《Magma》、《Acid Bath》、《Dust》、《Poetry Salzburg》及《London Grip》等处。
意义
作者：Evvy
阴性的季节
我们着迷一切意义
放大的意义
进行中的意义
被否定的意义
及无意义
“0.01”
时间被定义
呼— 吸—
呼—
吸—
meaning
translated by PLS
negative season
we are obsessed with every meaning
amplified meaning
ongoing meaning
denied meaning
and meaninglessness
“0.01”
time is defined
exhale-inhale-
exhale-
inhale-
Visit to the Shrine
by Derek Wang
By Shiva’s lingam we worship
the Trimurti that weeps
We sat down and whimper, when we remembered Zion [1].
Her burnish’d throne, arctic,
resuscitates in water and fire.
Her remains, arctic as well,
A single sigh for the vanished signs.
Will there ever be time? Will there ever be rain?
Our friend, the polymath, talks of constant metaphysics.
Yet even the most abstract entity
is forced to circumambulate in distress.
Does he know? Does he know? Will the tender Parjanya ever respond [2]?
Wait once more as Vladimir and Estragon erect [3],
Nous sommes les marionnettes du monde [4].
A flame that consumes and consummates in ecstasy.
Je vois alors qu'ils la joue comme un jouet [5].
Regard and behold, the fragments of a girl.
Have I set my land in order at last [6]?
Her last consciousness, drown in the stream of dead images.
For every bullet impaled on the kind demoiselle,
imprints the name of these, worshipping false idols and pence.
I hear your voice again,
pale, unsatisfied oscillation in suspense:
Thou hast committed—
Fornication: but that was in another country,
And besides, the wench is dead [7].
So gently forget me now, for you and I,
if you wished, might have been friends.
Notes
[1] Cf. Psalm 137:1
[2] Parjanya is the Vedic god of rain, thunder, and fertility.
[3] Vladimir and Estragon are characters in Samuel Beckett’s Waiting for Godot.
[4] French: “We are the puppets in the world.”
[5] French: “Then I see as they play her like a toy.”
[6] Eliot. The Waste Land V.
[7] Christopher Marlowe. The Jew of Malta. & Eliot. Portrait of a Lady.
Derek Wang is a student and skiing aficionado.
拜访寺庙
翻译：诗验室
借助湿婆的灵伽我们膜拜了
呜咽的三相神
“我们席地而坐，一想起锡安就潸然泪下。”【1】
她那抛过光的宝座，冰冷的，
在水火中复活。
她的残骸，也是冰冷的，
为消失的迹象发出一声叹息。
时间终会出现么？雨会来么？
我们博学的朋友，谈及不变的形而上学。
然而就连最为抽象的实体
都得被迫带着困苦绕道而行。
他知道么？他知道么？温柔的帕伽雅会回复么？【2】
再等弗拉季米尔和爱斯特拉冈站起，【3】
“Nous sommes les marionnettes du monde.”【4】
一团在狂喜中燃烧与结束的火焰。
“Je vois alors qu'ils la joue comme un jouet.”【5】
瞧瞧看吧，一位女孩的碎片。
最终我管好自己的土地了吗？【6】
她最后的意识，淹没在一堆死亡的照片中。
因为每一颗刺穿善良淑女的子弹，
都刻着这些假偶像与假币膜拜者的名字。
我又听见你的声音，
苍白、悬而未决中不满的震动：
“你已犯下 —
通奸罪：但那是在另一个国度，
再说了，那丫头已经死了。”【7】
所以现在轻轻忘掉我吧，因为你和我，
如果你曾许过愿，可能是朋友。
注释：
【1】参照诗篇137:1。
【2】帕伽雅是吠陀中的雨神、雷神与生育之神。
【3】弗拉季米尔和爱斯特拉冈乃萨缪尔·贝克特《等待戈多》中的人物。
【4】法语，意为“我们是这个世界的木偶人。”
【5】法语，意为“然后我看见他们把她当玩具一样耍。”
【6】艾略特。《荒原》第五部分。
【7】克里斯托弗·马洛的《马耳他的犹太人》；艾略特《一位女士的肖像》。
Derek Wang 是一名学生，爱好滑雪。
祖国，或以梦为马
作者：海子
我要做远方的忠诚的儿子
和物质的短暂情人
和所有以梦为马的诗人一样
我不得不和烈士和小丑走在同一道路上
万人都要将火熄灭 我一人独将此火高高举起
此火为大 开花落英于神圣的祖国
和所有以梦为马的诗人一样
我借此火得度一生的茫茫黑夜
此火为大 祖国的语言和乱石投筑的梁山城寨
以梦为上的敦煌——那七月也会寒冷的骨骼
如雪白的柴和坚硬的条条白雪 横放在众神之山
和所有以梦为马的诗人一样
我投入此火 这三者是囚禁我的灯盏 吐出光辉
万人都要从我刀口走过 去建筑祖国的语言
我甘愿一切从头开始
和所有以梦为马的诗人一样
我也愿将牢底坐穿
众神创造物中只有我最易朽 带着不可抗拒的死亡的遗度
只有粮食是我珍爱 我将她紧紧抱住 抱住她在故乡生儿育女
和所有以梦为马的诗人一样
我也愿将自己埋葬在四周高高的山上 守望平静的家园
面对大河我无限惭愧
我年华虚度 空有一身疲倦
和所有以梦为马的诗人一样
岁月易逝 一滴不剩 水滴中有一匹马儿一命归天
千年后如若我再生于祖国的河岸
千年后我再次拥有中国的稻田 和周天子的雪山 天马赐踏
和所有以梦为马的诗人一样
我选择永恒的事业
我的事业 就是要成为太阳的一生
他从古至今——“日”——他无比辉煌无比光明
和所有以梦为马的诗人一样
最后我被黄昏的众神抬入不朽的太阳
太阳是我的名字
太阳是我的一生
太阳的山顶埋葬 诗歌的尸体——千年王国和我
骑着五千年凤凰和名字叫“马”的龙——我必将失败
但诗歌本身以太阳必将胜利
作者：海子，原名查海生，中国当代诗人。
英文译者：张宇轩，江苏南京人，现就读于清华大学人文学院。现致力于翻译与创作。
Motherland, or Riding Dream as a Horse
Hai Zi, translated by Zhang Yuxuan
I shall be the faithful son of the distance,
And the ephemeral lover of the affluence.
Like all bards riding dream as a horse,
I have to walk on the same road as martyrs and clowns.
Millions will put out the fire. I alone will hold the fire high.
The fire is beyond all, blooming and falling over the sacred motherland.
Like all bards riding dream as a horse,
I can pass the vast nights of my life in this light.
The fire is beyond all, the Mount Liang forts built with the motherland tongue and hurled rocks.
Tun-huang, where dream is above all, — the bones that will chill in July,
Like snowy firewood and streaks of stiff firn, are exhibited on the Mountain of Gods.
Like all bards riding dream as a horse,
I thrust myself into the fire, the trinity is the lamp imprisoning me, giving out light.
Millions will walk across my blade, in order to build the motherland tongue.
I wish everything would start from scratch.
Like all bards riding dream as a horse,
I’m also willing to be jailed to the end.
Among the creations of Gods I’m the only apt to decay, with the irresistible speed of death.
Grain is what I only cherish. I hold her tight, hold her to give birth to boys and girls in homeland.
Like all bards riding dream as a horse,
I’m also willing to bury myself in the surrounding lofty mountains, keeping watch for the peaceful homeland.
Facing the River I’m infinitely ashamed,
For I have been idling my life away, now with a body so weary.
Like all bards riding dream as a horse,
Not a drop of the flowing time is left, inside which a horse returns its soul to heaven.
A thousand years later, if I’m reborn on the bank of motherland;
A thousand years later, if I own the paddy fields of China again,
Along with snow mountains of King Chou, the Son of Heaven, heavenly horses treading,
I will choose the immortal cause.
My cause is to live the life of the Sun.
He is from the past to the present — “Sol” — He is so splendid, so bright without compare.
Like all bards riding dream as a horse,
In the end I will be carried by the Gods of twilight into the immortal Sun.
The Sun is my name.
The Sun is my life.
The Sun’s mountaintop buries the corpse of poetry — the kingdom of thousand years and I,
Riding the five-thousand-year phoenix and the dragon whose name is “horse”.
— I must fail.
But poetry itself must prevail for the sake of the Sun.
Author: Hai Zi, the pen name of the Chinese poet Zha Haisheng. He was one of the most famous poets in Mainland China.
Translator: Zhang Yuxuan, from Nanjing of Jiangsu province, currently studying at School of Humanities, Tsinghua University. He now spends most of time on translating and writing.
Cover Image copyright © 离耳