Spring '20 Issue | 2020 春季刊
Geminids
by S. Preston Duncan
Days run together like they're trying
to keep warm
I am the shape of debris
My complexion, of sycamores
Tomorrow the woods
will still smell of smoke
Tonight you will see
stars ending
If you can sit by a fire
and not pay it mind
If you can lay on the earth
and forget what it keeps
S. Preston Duncan is the author of the poetry collection and EP of experimental spoken word music, The Sound in This Time of Being. His work has appeared in Levee Magazine, Circle Show, The New Southern Fugitives, Atlas and Alice and more.
双子座流星雨
翻译：诗验室
日子仿佛要抱团取暖一样
挨着流逝
我是残骸的形状
我的肤色，梧桐的
明天的树林
还将带有烟的味道
今夜你将看到
星辰陨落
如果你可以坐在火旁
而不曾注意它
如果你可以躺在大地上
而忘却它能留住的东西
S. Preston Duncan 曾创作诗集及实验性朗诵音乐专辑《The Sound in This Time of Being》。他曾在《Levee Magazine》、《Circle Show》、《The New Southern Fugitives》及《Atlas and Alice》等平台上发表过作品。
Fish
by S. Preston Duncan
By lunch the landing is cleared
of paleness suspended between trees
like a nap of hammocks.
Silhouettes speak Spanish
on the dock. I catch the word alma while
they are casting out
an osprey breaks water
pulls a rope of wet embers
across the open shout
from above, their skin is a language
of mudsunk colonies.
The surface erupting with voices.
鱼
翻译：诗验室
午间时分平台上已经没了
像小憩的吊床一样
悬在树丛间的苍白
说着西语的人影
在码头。当他们抛竿时
我听到“灵魂”这个词
一只鱼鹰自上而下冲破
开阔而平静的水面
拖起一串湿漉漉的余烬
它们的皮肤是一种
深陷泥潭的殖民地的语言。
表皮迸发着声音。
融合游戏
作者：Crybaby31
他们吼叫着
实现了革命
化成了
一段编号
一串数据
一只海参
一支兴奋剂
……
他们的狂喜
是我们恐惧无望的产物
世界分化了
作为化学物质和数字信号
他们被保留下来
Crybaby31 现居上海。
Fusion Games
translated by PLS
They are roaring
Accomplishing a revolution
Turning into
A snippet of code
A set of data
A sea cucumber
A dose of amphetamine
…
Their ecstasies
Are the result of our hopeless fears
The world becomes divided
As chemicals and digital signals
They are preserved
Crybaby31 currently lives in Shanghai.
mash note
by Bennett Faber
drift dawn
cleaves rose
the bed
widening on
a sag peel
of wall
your body
cotton grey fire
becoming
as light
becomes
space
in my hand
Bennett Faber is a writer from Brooklyn living in Shanghai.
爱的告白
翻译：诗验室
黎明浮动着
劈开玫瑰
床
开始膨胀
在凹陷的
墙皮之上
你的身躯
微黄 火
已就
而光
则渐成
域
在手心
Bennett Faber 是一名来自纽约布鲁克林的撰稿人，现居上海。
不知夜
作者：沈行舟
熟睡城市的金色灯光，散沙一片，
远在尽头的最后一只船舶，喘息再见。
黑纱团簌
恶灵成群
伺机
潜梦
夜的身后，浓重面前，散纱一片。
他的脸庞，坠落之后，失色闪现。
“还以为海面洒满月光，
原来，不过是自己身上的鳞片。”
沈行舟是一名诗人兼艺术家。爱好实验性文字创作，已出版诗集《回》。
Unknown Eve
translated by PLS
The golden light of the slumbering city, scattered sands.
The last skiff at the far end, disappearing with pants.
Black threads clustering
Evils gathering
Biding its time
Sneaking into dreams
Behind the eve, before the thick, scattered threads.
His face, after the fall, glowing with lost radiance.
“I thought the sea was covered with moonlight,
but turns out it’s just the scales of my body.”
Xingzhou Shen is a poet and artist. Her recent publication is 回.
Straw
by Matt Schroeder
& the predictable
broken bones of
it all
never realizing
you’ve been picked
last
or at all
actually
the runt
of the litter
the last of the pack
underweight but
enough to break
something dreamt of
for so long
leaning
now into leaving
you allergy giver
you killer
you
fragile dunce
of a lover
howl at some
other sorrow
some other
sphere
some sad excuse
for something
to give
yet still naïve
enough to think
there is something
better
as if everything
doesn’t circle
& eat its own
tail eventually
or predictably
swallow that
eating grin
you back breaker you
Matt Schroeder is a poet and educator based in China. His poetry can be found in Thin Air Online, Dovecote Magazine and Poetry Lab Shanghai.
稻草
翻译：诗验室
及其
可预见的
断骨
不曾知道
你最终
被选中
还是
实际上
是否被选中
发育不全的
幼仔
一窝中
最后一只
体重不足却
足以毁灭
长久以来
梦寐以求的东西
倚着身
欲离去
你这个过敏原
你这个杀手
你这个
痴情的
小傻瓜
朝着另一些
悲伤
另一个
时空呼喊
编一些难过的借口
想付出些
什么
却依旧
天真地认为
这世间还有
更美好的东西
仿佛万物
不会循环
最终不会咬掉
自己的尾巴
或者不出所料
咽下那张
进食的笑脸
你这根压死骆驼的稻草 你
Matt Schroeder 是一名住在中国的诗人与教育者。他曾在《Thin Air Online》、《Dovecote Magazine》以及《诗验室》发表过作品。
致绍闻
作者：Aiden Heung
恍惚间 是十余年
我们已学会不去追问
为什么 或者 如何。
掌心上 时光的印记
暗淡下来
成为餐后的笑谈；
在唇齿间摇曳的
却不是当初的理想
或是世界美好的愿望
或是竭尽所能的爱与自由，
而是被束缚的人生；
仿佛这个世界
连同这广袤的土地上
滋养起来的思想
也能一分一角地衡量；
然而又能表达什么呢？
无法述说，只能歌颂；
无法去怜悯，只能学会冷漠；
然后呼喊着
挣扎着
继续尝试
这被如此规划的生与死；
闻哥啊，这杯酒，
依旧是苦。
窗外
夜的寂静
交织着
一个夏天的寒。
Aiden Heung 是一名中国诗人。他曾在《Poet Lore》、《茶：亚洲文学期刊》、《声韵诗刊》、《惠灵顿评论》等平台发表过作品。
To Shao Wen
translated by PLS
A decade in a fleeting moment,
we have learned not to ask
why or how.
Stains of time in our palms
have dulled
into after-dinner jokes.
What lingers between lips
is no longer the old ideals
or the hope of a more beautiful world
or dedicated love and freedom,
rather a restricted life,
as if this whole world
along with thoughts nurtured
by the vast land
could be measured in coins.
But what is there left to express?
Our words doctored into praises,
sympathy into apathy,
as we scream
and struggle
and try to live up
to the life and death pre-designed as such.
O Wen, this drink
is bitter as ever.
Outside the window,
comes the silence of the night
interlaced
with a summer’s chill.
Aiden Heung is a Chinese poet. His poems have appeared in Poet Lore, Voice & Verse, The Wellington Street Review and more.
Give Me Glory
by CROW
We sail across the sea and follow our blind faith
But these waters only cry for those who dream
The stories of our days become rhymes
While we are standing on the abyss
Each one on his own – forever
When the grey of the morning rises from the street
The leaves are blown away around my throne but my story remains
Then give me a name
Make me sing or let me sigh
Let me fall or let me fly
Against the wind
Against the gods
Death - come give me glory
CROW is a visual and performing artist, singer and writer.
予我荣光
翻译：诗验室
我们追随信念并穿越大海
而海水却只为追梦者哭泣
我们的故事已成歌谣
我们站在深渊之上
每个人各有一座 — 永恒
当晨之灰从街巷升起
我的宝座四周叶落飘零但传说依旧时
请赐我一个名字
让我高歌或哀叹
让我坠落或高飞
迎着烈风
逆着众神
死亡 ——
请予我荣光
CROW 是一名视觉、表演艺术家兼音乐人与作家。
局中兽
作者：华璋
你背弓趴在地上的身体，
像兽，
衣服上的花色一如斑点，
鲜红的指甲抓进黑色的泥土，
不为攻击，不为守护，
是个不甘心的姿态。
要多难堪就多难堪，
你仿佛要把多年的纠结，
全吐出来方才罢休，
可惜，
嘴里还含着那些过去，
不弃不舍。
你倒在沙发上面咆哮，
一切静止，
现在已是以后，
以后，你不会再记得口中的喃喃，
纵然四堵墙目睹了整个过程，
然而墙壁一贯沉默，
就如我。
说伤心失望难过悲情心寒，
如说秋天的风，春天的花，
都不是你的语言。
我静看你伸手想解的结，抽刀想断的水，
就像你的局中局，戏中戏，
层层叠叠，看不清是清还是不清，
最后依然徒劳。
辜负了一段待放年华，
一弯眉目如画，
多年以后，
我仍望你化千树蝴蝶，
有一只，
会偶然落到我远方的书上。
华璋现居上海。
Constrained Beast
translated by PLS
That body of yours prostrated on the floor
hunched like a beast
the floral patterns on the clothes are like dots
those sanguine nails pinching into the dark mud
not for attacking, nor protecting
a posture of unreconciledness
It cannot be more humiliating
you seem to want to spill out all these years of mess
in order to finally calm down
unfortunately
with the past still in the mouth
you’re not one to give up
You’re lying on the couch groaning
everything else has stilled
now is already the future
the future in which you wouldn’t remember what you mumbled
even though the walls have witnessed the whole thing
yet they’re silent as always
just like me
Talking about despair disappointment and sadness
is like talking about autumnal wind and flowers of the spring
none of these is your language
I contemplate the knots you wish to unravel and the water you wish to cleave
such as the game of your game, trick of your trick
one after another, unable to clarify whether it’s clear or not
in the end all is futile
Even after betraying a beautiful youth
and a delightful visage
many years later
I still wish you to incarnate into a thousand trees of butterflies
and that one of them
someday would rest on my future book
Frank Mok currently lives in Shanghai.
Big Gate
by Alyssa Cokinis
“Damen” to me is “big gate,” 大门
but here I sit in Wicker Park
feeling that both Chicago and Nanjing
could be and are and will be part of
my identity
How uninspiring to write to “Low Rider”
on a dirty window counter where
I try to find something of note outside but instead
life just passes by
I like your blue fuzzy coat
It reminds me of Chinese fashion
Last night I ate pizza and guzzled
Sierra Mist and watched iCarly
just like ol’ times
Things began to get dark in 2008
even though Obama became president
I can’t afford Xmas presents this year
because
I’m spending all of my savings on
a “theatre pipe dream” in Paris
so I drew Huangshan for you all
trying to emulate its smoky glory
and in my embarrassment
tell you it’s refrigerator art
Alyssa Cokinis is an American writer and theatre artist from Iowa. Her work can be found in Homonym Journal, The Translate Iowa Project, Iowa's Best Emerging Poets, Beatdom and more.
大门
翻译：诗验室
“女士”（Damen）对我来说就是“大门”
然而我此刻正坐在柳条公园里
深信芝加哥和南京
都可能是现在是将来也会是
我身份的一部分
在一个肮脏的窗台上
听着“低趴条条车”写东西是多么无趣
我试着从窗外寻找一些值得一提的事
可生活就这样流逝着
我喜欢你的蓝绒外衣
它让我联想到中国时尚
昨晚我在看《爱卡莉》时
边吃披萨边大口地喝着柠檬汽水
就像从前
尽管2008年奥巴马当了总统
一切仍开始往不好的方向发展
今年我买不起圣诞礼物
因为
我将所有的储蓄花在
一个巴黎的“音乐剧白日梦”上
所以我为大家画了一幅黄山
试图塑造那种烟雾缭绕的辉煌
然后尴尬地
告诉你它不过是冰箱艺术
Alyssa Cokinis 来自美国爱荷华州，是一位作家兼舞台表演艺术家。她曾在《Homonym Journal》、《 The Translate Iowa Project》、 《Iowa's Best Emerging Poets》、《Beatdom》等平台发表过作品。
Cover Image copyright © 离耳