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Summer '20 Issue | 2020 夏季刊

rimu road

by Lily Holloway


those fish in the stream by the coastlands laundromat

are sleek bodies swept grass-like

they run under the subway in the mall

flicker sunwards

billboards with the flesh pushed or

out-slotted roadside onlook

a market in the paddock two months ago

politicians under bracken

cows huddled in a mass of five

there’s a goldfinch perched on the thistle

raspberry and slinking grass pressing

up against the paddock fence

and it bulges

and in the shed over the fence

jointed grass knocks out at the windows from the inside

splayed like fingers

knocking in nighttime wind

and it bulges


wild hawkweed disembowels one of those green electric boxes

I had a dream that gorse was something different


Lily Holloway is a 21 year-old English and Ancient History student at the University of Auckland in Aotearoa. Her work has been published in Mayhem, The Three Lamps, and The Spinoff among other literary places. This year she has received the Shimon Weinroth Prize in Poetry, the Kendrick Smithyman Scholarship for Poetry and second place in the Charles Brasch Young Writers’ Essay Competition.

芮木路

翻译:诗验室

那些沿海洗衣房旁小溪里的鱼儿

是草一样挥舞的优美姿态

他们在商场的地铁下方奔跑

沿着太阳的方向摇曳着


被抽空肉体的广告牌或

错位的路边目击者

围场里两个月前的集市

欧洲蕨下的政治家们

五头蜷成一团的奶牛


一只金翅雀在蓟草上方栖息

树莓和若隐若现的杂草

挤压着围场的篱笆

它膨胀着


在旁边的库房内

具节山羊草从里面压向窗户

像手指一样伸展着

敲击着夜晚的风

它膨胀着


野山柳菊灌满整个绿色电箱

我曾做梦以为荆豆是别的东西


Lily Holloway 现就读于新西兰奥克兰大学英文与古代史专业。她的作品曾发表于《Mayhem》、《The Three Lamps》与《The Spinoff》等处。今年,她已获得“Shimon Weinroth Prize诗歌奖”,“Kendrick Smithyman诗歌奖学金”以及“Charles Brasch青年作家散文大赛“第二名。


 

噢,我还能歌唱吗

作者:黄圣

噢,我还能歌唱吗

咽喉里一块金色的肉

热的锻造,数亿次歌唱

夜莺卡在空调里


蜡的、匀质的街上

昨天的店铺被明天易主

今天全部打烊

新兴的、吃炸鸡那条街上

人都肿胀了,很轻

拖着长长的影子像涂油

年迈的树在示众

伤口被刷绿

时代,抛上一层

借来的、非自我之光


话术追着我们

一种反复在压垮我们

舌头爆破。汞柱碎裂

亡灵都是温热的、喝不下的

恶脱口而出

手比划着失去,爱很褴褛

黄圣,在上海经营一家诗歌书店。


O, can I still sing

translated by PLS

O, can I still sing

a golden lump in the throat

forging of the heat, a song sung a billion times

nightingale stuck in the air conditioner

On the street waxed and homogeneous

yesterday’s shops replaced by tomorrow’s

everything is closed today


Over the new street where they sell fried chicken

people swelling, weightless

dragging their elongated shadows, as if anointing


Aged trees are demonstrating

wounds are polished green

time, burnishing with

borrowed, non-self light


Wordplay chases after us

but we are crushed by a repetition

exploded tongue. broken mercury

Specters are warm, undrinkable

evil slipped out of the mouth

hands gesturing about loss, ragged love


Huang Sheng runs a poetry book store in Shanghai.


 

Commuter

by L Kiew


Traffic mills into a single roar,

steel-blue staining the ears.

Pause, before

descending the cataract

into the Underground.


The human swarm takes you

with its undertow

as treacherous

as adders mating

in a tight tunnel.


It swerves,

eddies and rushes,

pushing until you

are expelled

new and green.

Inhale

stillness through your skin

like an amphibian

returned to its natal pond.


L Kiew is a Chinese-Malaysian living in London. Her debut pamphlet The Unquiet came out with Offord Road Books in February 2019. She is currently a participant in the London Library Emerging Writers Programme.

通勤者

翻译:诗验室

车流碾成一声咆哮,

钢青玷污着耳朵。

在涌入地铁

之前

暂停一下。


人群拖着你

用蝰蛇交配时

背叛的意志

将你卷入

狭小的隧道


它扭转着

环绕和移动着

直到你被

吐出,变得

新而绿


用皮肤

呼吸静止

像一只两栖动物

回到它出生的池塘。


L Kiew 是华裔马来西亚人,现居伦敦。她于2019年2月通过Offord Road Books出版第一部诗集《The Unquiet》,现为"伦敦图书馆新兴作家计划"的一名驻地诗人。

 

TEA FLAG, PRAYER MOON

by Adrian Lurssen


history’s

porcelain arc


blued against

white


heron bamboo

fisherman pot


true

not true


leaf and

spring


water a gram-

mar’s ebbing heat


if steep is to

cup


as sip is to

shall I


be then morning


for Norma Cole

Born and raised in South Africa, Adrian Lurssen lives in the San Francisco Bay Area. His poetry has been published in WITNESS Magazine, Fence, Phoebe, Word for/Word, Indiana Review, Posit Journal, and places elsewhere. 


茶旗,祷月

翻译:诗验室

历史之

瓷弧


变蓝

鹭竹

渔人壶


非真


叶与


水一个语

法退却的热


倘若浸泡是为了

拔起


犹如啜饮

那么我可否


就是清晨

致 Norma Cole


Adrian Lurssen 生长于南非,现居住在旧金山湾区。他的诗歌曾发表在《WITNESS Magazine》、《Fence》、《Phoebe》、《Word for/Word》、《Indiana Review》、《Posit Journal》等处。


 

THE BIRDS IN THE CIRCUIT TREES

by Adrian Lurssen


Words are made of electrons it turns out

- Michael Palmer



living in the subjunctive, social

all the virgin eyes of the world


are made of glass

and the glass


surface of the lake

a feedback loop


the subject arrives after

you’ve tried to imitate


the bird in its place

a made place


created by light

must she follow

the if-then into

ether singing


we have shapes

but no power

singing a share

is a part song


will outlive

an arms race


as if you were real

a just arrangement


your attention and time as if

from each grain of sand


a bird shall be born as if

a letter grew a pair of wings


until reader (who’s one

and who’s nothing)

reader arrives

completes the circuit


电路树中的鸟

翻译:诗验室

词语原来是由电子组成。

—米歇尔·帕尔默



在虚拟语气中生活,社交

这世间所有的处女眼


都由玻璃制成

而玻璃却由


湖面制成

一个反馈回路


在到达主题前

你试图模仿


在自己地盘上的鸟

这个地盘由光线

打造而成

她是否一定得追随


条件语句到

苍穹高唱


我们有形状

但没有力量


高唱一份

就是一部分歌曲


将比拉锯战

更持久

仿佛你是真实的

一个合理的安排


你的注意力与时间仿佛

来自每一粒沙


一只鸟将要诞生仿佛

一封信可以生出一对翅膀


直到读者(有人是

有人啥也不是)

读者已至

接通电路


 

Cold Eel

by Hadley-James Hoyles


After the hubbub

And the crassness of the active battle

You slither out, basking in the tension

Left in the murk after a rip-roarer

Of a show. You settle

Your flimsy layers

And your granite guts

As the sediment returns

To its grounding point, goaded no more.


Algae, food.

Mollusc, food.

Hibiscus, food.

Finger, food, you

Build all your life with no

Concern from whence it came.

You break apart bone, ligament, ex-

Cruciating tendon, as if it were

A delight to your fussless stomach.


Nightlife comes to your dark-already door

Niggling away at the peace of your churning.

You slide out, and politely tell it

“The same as last night, I haven’t

The time or the inclination-

My heart was never in it.” Your

Faceless grin looks eerie

As much as polite, a monstrous balance

Of the housewife, the banker, the trader.

Nothing in your grin gives offence, nothing

Gives; yet beneath it all

Through the newly digested bone

You are impatiently waiting for the day

When nightlife will overstep its bounds

And you have just and probable cause

To swallow the moon.


Hadley-James Hoyles is from Skipton, North Yorkshire, and based in Edingburgh. He writes about his rural roots, reflecting how nature has shaped the working rural classes.

冷鳗

翻译:诗验室

在一阵嘈杂

和粗鲁的打斗之后

你溜出人群,陶醉在紧张的气氛中

一场热血澎湃的表演过后

只剩下一片昏暗。你整理好

褴褛的外衣

和细碎的胆量

仿佛沉淀物回到

接地点,就此平息。


海藻,食物。

软体动物,食物。

木槿,食物。

手指,食物,你

为自己的人生打拼不管

它来自何处。

你打散骨头、韧带,折

磨肌腱,仿佛它能给你

漫不经心的胃带来愉悦。

夜生活来到你黑暗的门前

在你平静的呼吸中喋喋不休

你溜出去,礼貌地说

“跟昨夜一样,我没有

时间或意愿 ——

我对此向来不感兴趣。”你那

面无表情的笑看起来有点可怕

尽管礼貌,但它还是家庭主妇、

银行家与商人之间的骇人结合。

你的笑中不带冒犯,不带

任何信息;可在外表之下

在那刚刚消化的骨头中

你却在不耐烦地等待白日

当夜生活跨越它的极限时

你就有正当且可能的理由

去吞噬月亮


Hadley-James Hoyles 来自北约克夏斯基普顿,现居爱丁堡。他的诗歌主要围绕自己的农村背景,对大自然给农村工人阶级所带来的影响进行反思。


 

即景

作者:吴立松

骤雨凝着光芒在午前退去

在手树的叶片上震荡

什么是可追寻的,可看清的

精神匆忙显形又迅速消隐

在死者的身躯中闪耀

谁重复那问了无数遍的问题

谁渴求摘时间中的果实

都要在内心拨开交缠的蛇

不可言说但还是嘶吼出词语

“我的结束就是我的开始”

“后之视今,亦犹今之视昔”

像地面挥发的气息牵引着人

这是一种什么样的场景

这是谁的声音,谁的命运

让符号替代事物的形态

一切可见的具体的都变抽象

正是重复使多数有了意义

让古代和现代同样地发生了

被建造的当下并行着各种时间

谁已经死去,谁尚且活着

谁追思谁,谁在引领谁


然后走出一座遗迹的空间

到室外溽热的空气中去

被焦灼的人群围绕着,窒息着

结识那个拥有痛苦最多的人

像一条曲身的虫子觅食

完成于每一条躯体的历史

而你知道最终的荣耀就是屈辱

吴立松,生长于江西临川,曾自出版一些诗集。


Impromptu

translated by PLS


a sudden downpour gone with the light before noon

raindrops dancing on the leaves of a dwarf umbrella tree

what’s pursuable, seeable

spirit appearing and disappearing in an instant

glowing through the corpse

who is repeating the question asked numerous times

who is longing for the fruit in time


unravel the snakes intertwining inside your body

ineffable but still throwing out words

“my end is my beginning”

“we’ll be seen by the future generation, just as how we see history today”

like the air evaporated from the ground, pulling people in

what kind of scene is this

whose voice, whose fate is this


let signs replace the shapes of things

all visible figures become abstract

repetitions give majorities meaning

making the present repeat the past

a constructed present parallel to different times

who is already dead, who is still alive

who is the mourner, who is the leader

then out of a relic walk

into the sticky hot air

surrounded by an anxious human swarm, suffocating

making friends with the person who has the most profound pain

like a twisted worm foraging

ending with the history of every corpse

but you know the ultimate glory is humiliation


Wu Lisong was born and raised in Linchuan, Jiangxi province. He has self-published a few poetry collections before.


 

Different Air for Different Hours

by Harry Ross


It is mid-day: but all is silent.

Sad are my thoughts alone.


II, Fragments of Ancient Poetry, James Macpherson, 1760

I remember the smell of your room,

the taste of your coffee,

not my own,

now, there is only zoom


Different air for different hours

The crisp quiet air of the early morning commute, unbreathed

The sea air sharpness of an Easter outing, unbreathed

The humming air of spring; cut grass, unbreathed

The thronging air of assembly; sweat, barbeques, leisure and music, unbreathed


I suffocate in my own dreams

Longing for my motorbike.

What does essential mean? I thought I was