• PLS诗验室

Poetry Lab Shanghai Summer '20 Issue | 诗验室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

I don't want to come out better the other side.

I want to touch.

To relate.

These days with my children I'll never get back

These days without my children I'll never get back


Endless chiming notifications and

Wearily disconnected replies on

screen wondering who was the last to join?

Angular light shafts on distant faces,

Granular band-width, imagining touch

Together warm under separate sunlight

I can't wash my hands with water

I can’t cook

The judgements passed through fear

Barricaded by cardboard castles

Delivered with prime privilege

I am essential but can’t afford to eat

Alone in the supermarket carpark wearing my funeral tie.

Wondering.

You would have liked a larger send off.

I would have…

It's the smell I miss, the smell of you,

Old, distant but related to my own future,

The scent passes first in my memory

Only abstraction remains.

The nodding eye of the passerby

who doesn't cross to the other side of the street

Gone

New public space between us

Now estranged space between

Social distance

Masking strange pains of

Dislocation and loss


Dark waves overpower

A pool of unknown questions

Midnight: Everything still.

Everything lonely.

Midday: In silence.  Remembering the smell of your room,  the taste of your coffee, not my own, Different air for different hours I suffocate in my lonely dreams What does essential mean? Wasn’t I? I don't want to come out better on the other side.  I want to relate. I’m longing for touch. Days with my children I'll never get back Days without children I won't get back Together warm under separate sun Light beams I would have... The scent passes first in my memory Only abstraction Remains dark waves overpowering pools  of unknown questions Midnight: All is still.

Midday Silence.  Remembering the smell of your room,  the taste of your cooking, not my own, Different air for different hours (TUTTI) I suffocate in my lonely dreams What does essential mean? Wasn’t I?

I want to relate. Days with my children I'll never get back (ST) Days without children I won't get back (AB)

Together warm under separate sun Light beams I would have... (TUTTI)

The scent passes first in my memory Only abstraction Remains dark waves overpowering pools 

of unclear questions (TUTTI)

of unseen questions (TUTTI) of unknown questions (TUTTI)

I don't want to come out better on the other side. (TUTTI) I want to relate. (TUTTI) I’m longing for touch. (TUTTI)

Harry Ross is a poet and opera librettist. He has written lyrics for most of Dai Fujikura’s vocal work. Outside of writing, he is a producer and creative director specialising in immersive and site specific live productions.


不同时间的不同气息

翻译:诗验室

现在是正午:但一切无声。

我的情绪里只剩难过。


摘自詹姆斯·马克弗森《古诗片段》第二部分

我还记得你的房间的味道,

你的咖啡的味道,

不是我的,

而现在,只有云聊天的味道


不同时间的不同气息

早上凉爽幽静的气息,一尘不染

复活节短途行时大海清新的气息,一尘不染

春天低声吟唱的气息;锯草,一尘不染

聚会时喧闹的气息;汗水、烧烤、休闲与音乐,一尘不染

我在自己的梦中窒息

寻找我的摩托车。

不可或缺意味着什么?我曾经以为我是

我不想在另一个世界过得更好。

我想触摸。

想感受。

我无法回到那些与我的孩子一同度过的日子

我无法回到那些没有我的孩子的日子


数不清的消息提醒以及

屏幕上毫无关联的无聊回复

好奇新加入的成员中都有谁

远处的脸上棱角分明的光

密密麻麻的信号,想象着抚摸

在分开的阳光下一起温暖


我不能用水洗手

我不能做饭

判断穿过恐惧

被纸板城堡挡住

在代表特权中产生

我虽不可或缺却不能吃东西


我戴着葬礼的领带独自在超市的停车场。

心想。

你可能更喜欢大一些的排场。

我可能......

我想念的是味道,你的味道,

以前的、遥远的但又关乎我的未来,

气味先在我的回忆里飘过

只留下抽象。


路人赞同的眼神

他不过马路

消失了

我们之间新的公共空间

社交距离之间

分裂的空间

掩饰着错位与失去

陌生的痛苦

暗波征服

一大堆未知的问题

午夜:一切静止。

一切孤单。

正午:沉默之中。

回想起你的房间的味道,

你的咖啡的味道,不是我的。

不同时间的不同气息

我在自己孤独的梦中窒息

不可或缺究竟意味着什么?我曾经是么?

我不想在另一个世界过得更好。

我想感受,

我渴望触摸。

我无法回到那些与我的孩子一同度过的日子

我无法回到那些没有我的孩子的日子

在分开的阳光下一起温暖

我可能拥有的光线……

气味先在我的回忆里飘过

只有抽象


留下暗波征服一大堆

未知的问题


午夜:一切静止。



正午的沉默。


回想起你的房间的味道,

你做的饭菜的味道,不是我的,


不同的时间不同的气息(TUTTI)

我在自己孤独的梦中窒息


不可或缺究竟意味着什么?我曾经是么?

我想感受。


我无法回到那些与我的孩子一同度过的日子(ST)

我无法回到那些没有我的孩子的日子(AB)

在分开的阳光下一起温暖

我可能拥有的光线……(TUTTI)

气味先在我的回忆里飘过

只有抽象


留下暗波征服一大堆

不清楚的问题(TUTTI)

未曾听过的问题(TUTTI)

未知的问题(TUTTI)

我不想在另一个世界活得更好。(TUTTI)

我想感受。(TUTTI)

我渴望触摸。(TUTTI)


Harry Ross 是一名诗人与歌剧演员。他曾为藤仓大的许多声乐作品作词。除写作之外,他还是一名沉浸式现场体验的制作人及创意总监。



Back to Nature

by Roddie McKenzie

The rapid traffic trickles to silence

on the dry river beds of the highways

and the silver gulls stand frozen

in their nests at the airport.

While the population cowers at home,

nature heals under the balm of silence.

Deer appear on roadsides and

in my garden, a shrieking crow sunders the air

like a cannonball breaking a window.

Roddie McKenzie lives in Dundee and is a member of Wyvern Poets and Nethergate Writers. His poetry and prose have appeared in Lallans, Seagate III, New Writing Scotland 35, Northwords Now 36, 50 Shades of Tay, and Rebel.


回归自然

翻译:诗验室

湍急的车流在高速公路

干枯的河床上逐渐淌成沉默

银鸥在机场的巢里

一动不动地立着。

当人们蜷在家中时,

自然在沉默的笼罩下复苏。

野鹿现身路旁和我的花园里

一只乌鸦尖叫着划破天空

仿佛一枚炮弹穿透一扇窗。


Roddie McKenzie 住在邓迪,为当地”Wyvern Poets“与”Nethergate Writers“协会成员。他的诗歌与散文曾发表于《Lallans》、《Seagate III》、《New Writing Scotland 35》、《Northwords Now 36》,《50 Shades of Tay》及《Rebel》等处。



of permanence

by Elizabeth Whitmire

And what are the words of permanence.

Of disarray

The things that lay thick and syrupy against a sticky August windshield. The sweat beams on your forehead and tattered droplets of rain congregate in the shadows.

You can never take it back.

You can only say

I’m sorry. 

I didn’t mean it

I changed my mind

I was wrong

Forgive me.

But the ears that have bent under the breadth and the pain.


You can never remove the weight of your words.


And don’t I know it better than you.


Haven’t I heard the thing that rips your frame from its bones


Your soul a wry torrent coercing and staggering in the sunlight 


Caught on a limb, on a dime, in the heated breeze.

And haven’t I been that? That sickening angle. The phrase that bleeds in your mouth as your lips come across your teeth.


You don’t even mean it. As you lose your train of thought.


But he deserves it.

You should mean it.


You should be able to mean it.


And that is the truth.


Though you love him too much to ever want him to hurt that badly.


The way you have hurt.


And that, is the truth.


And the thing that should never be said. 

It’s too awful. Kindness will swallow you whole little girl.


And will fear. And love. And rage.

Be quieter than you have been.

And wait.


Elizabeth Whitmire hails from Richmond, Virginia, she is a writer, musician, and graphic artist.

论永恒

翻译:诗验室

什么是永恒之词。

混乱之词。

那些在粘乎的八月挡风上厚而浓稠的东西。汗水在你的前额发光,破碎的雨滴在阴影中集合。

你永远无法收回。

你只能说


对不起。

我不是故意的

我改主意了

我错了

原谅我。

但耳朵已在痛苦的深渊中弯曲。


你永远无法卸去词语的重量。


我比你更清楚这一点。


我曾听过让人撕心裂肺的语言


你的灵魂是阳光下胁迫与踉跄的讽刺洪流


突然间,孤立无援,在灼热的微风中


我不正是这样么?那令人作呕的角度。当你的嘴唇触碰牙齿时,话语在嘴里像血一样流淌。


你根本不想这样。因为你已像火车脱轨般失去理智。


可这是他应得的。


你就应该这样。


你应该能够这样。


这就是事实。


但你太爱他了以致于不想伤他那么深。


那样伤害他。


而这,就是事实。


那些本不该道出的话。


太可怕了。善良会吞掉你的,姑娘。


它会怕。会爱。会愤怒。


比往常安静一些。

然后静静等待。


Elizabeth Whitmire 来自弗吉尼亚的里士满,是一名撰稿人、音乐人兼平面设计。

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