Summer '25 Issue | 2025 夏季刊

季节

作者：帕凡

今天，我又看见了海浪

透明的连缀

向身体的峡谷敞开

木石深处，永恒的季风吹拂

一个空转的时间

这个过盛的季节

我的心连接，又切断

往来的光线

与偶然的节气交换缺口

观看青铜的背面

已是正午内侧

幼年的洋面尚未合拢

空气中明暗浇铸的折痕

在纯粹的消耗中

重拨太阳的心脏

声响间歇

远近身影清水鼓动

轻淡的径流

自记忆的群岛前

无限回归

直到事物的表面

布满露珠

帕凡，翻译，居福建福州。

season

translated by PLS

today and once more, i see the transparent 

creases of the waves

opening up to the valley of the body

deep among wood and stones, the perennial monsoon strokes

the idling hour

this season of excess

my heart connects and disconnects

the rays that come and go

exchange their crevices with sporadic solar terms

behold the back of the bronze

it is the interior of noon

the young surface of the ocean hasn’t yet closed

the beams cast by light and shade in the air

are redialling the heart of the sun

in its pure exhaustion

in an interval between noises

shadows near and far oscillate into water

the gentle streams

return infinitely

from the archipelago of memory

until the exterior of things

is furnished with dew

Pa Fan, a translator who lives in Fuzhou, Fujian.

---

Sunlight

by Abhishek Karale

Sunlight comes quietly, as if hesitant to wake the sleeping room.

It finds the edges, touches softly the curve of the wooden chair,

the corner of the table, tracing gently across an open book

as though reading carefully the words left behind.

You follow it outside as it silently makes it way across the just-waking city,

taking its time to impart its presence on every single leaf, every rushing denizen,

every nook in the ancient marbled buildings.

Giving equally to all under its attention.

There is a kind of seeing that happens,

only when we surrender the heavy architecture of our planning,

our constant looking ahead.

The sunlight has been trying to tell you this for years now,

sliding between curtains you thought were closed,

finding the smallest opening to enter.

What have you missed in your determined forward motion?

The way your child’s face changes when truly listened to,

the subtle shift of seasons in a tree you pass each day,

the stories held in the hands of those who have loved you longest.

You have walked past this doorway a thousand times, unseeing,

until today when some angle of light reminds you,

this is utterly and entirely new and moving.

And then, the resilient weed in the corner of the street, unnoticed and abandoned,

suddenly bursts into flames; echoing in a million different shades of green.

The buildings which we think of as static and fixed,

are set aflame and revealed as alive, whispering centuries of accumulated stories

The faces of the passersby take on a radiance, as if the penetrating photons

unveil the unspoken joys and tragedies we all carry.

This is how we are healed it intimates,

not in great revelations,

but in small surrenders to attention.

The silence of the sunlight only urges you to notice,

how it travels across the floor of your life,

making visible, what you’ve learned not to see.

Abhishek Karale is a radiologist based in London.

阳光

翻译：诗验室

阳光静悄悄地来，仿佛不想唤醒仍在睡眠中的房间。

它顺着边缘行动，轻抚木椅的弧线，

桌子的一角，温柔滑过一本开着的书

仿佛仔细阅读着未被读完的文字一般。

你跟着它来到屋外，看它默默走入刚刚苏醒的城市，

不紧不慢地落在每一片叶子上，每位匆忙的市民身上，

古老的大理石建筑的每个角落。

确保让一切雨露均沾，毫不偏袒。

有一种看见，只在我们

抛弃计划的沉重框架与停止不断向前看

的时候才发生。

多年来，阳光一直在尝试着告诉你这个道理，

在你以为紧闭的窗帘间不断徘徊，

寻找一道哪怕是细微的缝隙，只为进入房间。

可你在快进的日常中错过了什么？

当你认真倾听时孩子脸上发生的表情变化，

你每天经过的一棵树上所发生的四季更替，

那些一直深爱你的人手中攥着的故事。

你曾无数次跨过这道门，却从未注意到它，

直到今天，你才借助光的某个角度发现，

这是多么新奇而动人。

然后，街角蔓生的杂草，此前也未曾被留意过，

突然间燃成一团火焰；在数不尽的绿中回响着。

那些我们觉得静止不动的建筑，

也都像着了魔似的，以鲜活的面目重现，诉说着几百年来的故事

路人的脸上开始绽放光芒，仿佛极具穿透力的光子

正揭开我们内心未曾表达的喜悦与痛楚。

我们就是这样被治愈它不通过

伟大的顿悟

而是向注意力屈服来显露

阳光的沉默只在催你留意，

它是如何穿过你生活的地面，

让那些你选择不去看的东西重新被看见。

Abhishek Karale 是一位居住在伦敦的放射科医生。

---

四月

作者：周爱华

四月，婉约之事迟迟未获准许

只有等雨，见面洽谈。

栅栏内外，悬而未决的惶恐

从一棵刚栽下的时蔬根部蔓延

早晨，从墙上取下雨伞，

挪作他用；一个久未使用的宗教道具，

撑开，阳光明媚地扑过来绞杀

或者紧紧拥抱

游荡，一群布道的战士

只笃信光明和真理

在晴朗的街头

一把雨伞的惶恐，如刚栽下的时蔬

贯穿越拉越高的天空，越来越矮的事物

我穿过危险晴朗，去等一滴雨

脆弱的，黯淡的，正面的负面。

夜晚的风，又吹动的沙沙声

让人疑心雨来了，让人

在一个骗局又心动几分.….

周爱华，在云南。

april

translated by PLS

it’s April, euphemistic things haven’t been approved

you can only wait for the rain, to discuss in person.

around the fence, the suspended fear

sprawls from the root of a freshly planted seasonal vegetable

in the morning, you take the umbrella from the wall,

and use it for other purposes; a ritual tool not used for too long,

open it, sunlight swoops down to strangle in brilliance

or wraps you up

wandering, a group of preaching soldiers

devout believers of light and truth

on a sunny street

the fear of an umbrella, like the fresh vegetable

runs through the higher and higher sky, and the shortening things

i traverse the dangerous sunniness, to wait for a drop of rain

the brittle, dim, negative of positive.

the rustling sounds, whistled by the evening breeze

arouse the suspicion of rain, making a heart

throb a little again in the midst of a scam…

Zhou Aihua lives in Yunnan.

---

Alain

by Evey Xu

I grab a handful of clouds and put God in my mouth

His steam bursts up pipes running through and while

Jerry hammers clutching up spots in the bone marrow

leukie sores still rotting fifty after the first split felt

by many and then none, firstborn though always was

trailing as second child, doubting as sweet and mild

mannered Thomas is let through and given a seat

at the table I spit out my food and can't act right

away it goes and drains out my elbows and feet

leaving me light and fluid, pushing my hips through

history books sink ships and hearts float, pause for just a second

Evey Xu is a second-generation Chinese-Canadian.

阿兰

翻译：诗验室

我抓住一把云并将上帝塞进嘴里

他水汽炸开穿过的管道正当

杰里猛击变得紧张骨髓里的某处

皮肤白血病丘疹仍在溃烂距很多人经历的

首次毁灭性裂变已经五十年了，长子却总是

磨蹭成次子，当他怀疑时温柔而随

和的托马斯正被允许通过在桌子旁

的一个位子坐下我吐出食物且无法立马

采取措施它就这么出来了把我的肘和脚

都排出留下轻盈而流动的我，将我的臀部

从一堆历史书中挤过使船沉没而心悬浮，先暂停一小会

Evey Xu 是第二代加拿大华裔。

---

无题

作者：无忧

（一）

像被压入海底的一块塑料。

我本不该沉没，

于是不断浮起。

但那只无形的手将我的咽喉锁紧，

一次一次向下推去。

（二） 

我挣扎， 

在即将冲破水面的刹那，

尽力跃起。 

却坠得更深 —— 

落入幽暗的夹层。 

我呼喊， 

用尽全身力气， 

却听不见自己的声音。

（三） 

“鬼影”自上方浮现， 

最初只是模糊的色块， 

直到讥笑穿透水层， 

才逐渐现形。 

他们欲以水纹为面具， 

藏匿真实意图， 

殊不知我正沉潜于此， 

透过澄明的水体，

将其看得一清二楚。

（四） 

他们终于离去。 

这令人窒息的宁静， 

终于属于我。 

我贪婪地将它吸入肺腑， 

如同初次呼吸纯净的空气。

（五）

我困了。

睡得前所未有地安稳，

在幽深的海底。

无忧，是一名学生。

untitled

translated by PLS

I

like a piece of plastic forced to the bottom of the sea.

i’m not supposed to sink,

so i just keep floating back up.

but that invisible hand chokes me,

thrusting me down again and again.

II

i struggle,

at the moment of breaking through the surface,

jump with all my strength.

and yet i sink deeper—

falling into the dark hollow.

i scream,

as much as i can,

though i cannot hear my own voice.

III

“ghosts” appear above,

at first they are just blurry lumps,

but their forms start to emerge,

as soon as their sneers pierce the water.

they try to use ripples as masks,

to hide their true intentions,

little do they know, i’m right here,

through clear water,

i can see them perfectly.

IV

they are finally gone.

this suffocating calm,

is now mine.

i inhale it greedily,

just as i breathe clean air for the first time.

V

i’m tired.

now sleeping more soundly than ever,

in the serene depths of the ocean.

Wu You is a student.

---

Reunion

by Jeremiah Chen

You drift into my thoughts unbidden, time and again—

a specter whispering through the corridors of friends’ memories,

and my own. That glimpse has eclipsed all else I’ve seen since,

your face a constellation igniting my thoughts like scattered sparks.

We were children when first our paths crossed,

on the trembling platform of Line 4. I lingered, hoping

against hope for your silhouette to pierce the crowd,

if only to steal one distant glance at your radiance.

Years spun you into a thread stitching every fleeting moment,

until fate’s hand clasped ours together. To my astonishment,

your first request was for me to play the role of your lover—

a shield against the world’s clamor. Joy flooded me,

a tide so fierce I feared I might dissolve in its wake.

Yet fear, that ancient saboteur, turned my courage to ash.

I retreated; my hesitation became a blade.

I aimed for nonchalance but achieved only folly.

Regret gnaws still, a hollow chorus chanting too late, too late.

Others have brushed against my life since, their light dim

beside yours. No subsequent intimacy has held

your particular alchemy—the way you distilled beauty

into something that outshone even the stars.

Perhaps you’ve forged new bonds in these passing years,

yet your shadow lingers in every street, every season,

as though you still sit beside me, scribbling secrets

into margins of shared notebooks.

I sealed memories of you in a vault of silence,

lest time corrode their edges. But the lock rusts;

your face blurs into a watercolor of might-have-beens,

my hands perpetually redrawing what my heart forgets.

Cowardice clings to me—this terror of reaching

toward one who still haunts my pulse. I draft grand tales

of reunion, yet fear they’ll arrive as epitaphs, not prologues.

I believed my heart had numbed to frost,

until your laughter flickered through my mind again.

In midnight’s hush, I’ve traced phantom footsteps

through digital shadows, seeking traces of your now.

You were a comet—brilliant, unbidden—

gilding my ordinary days with borrowed light,

then vanishing, leaving only a scar of gold

across the fabric of my years.

I atone for my blindness, my fumbling silence,

and whisper futile prayers to the uncaring sky:

Let the lost be found. Let the broken mend.

But the universe spins on, indifferent.

Your presence stirs a haunting déjà vu, 

As if our souls once danced in a forgotten twilight,

Now I find myself caught in the tender conflict of cherishing the echo,

And releasing it to the winds of time.

Jeremiah Chen is a student at CUHK.

重聚

翻译：诗验室

你主动浮现在我的脑海，一次又一次 ——

一个在朋友与我自己的记忆之廊中低语的

灵魂。那一眼暗淡了我此后所看到的一切，

你的脸一个像零星的火光一样点燃我的想法的星座。

我们初识时都还只是少年，

在四号线微颤的站台上。我逗留，对

你从人群中穿过来仍抱一丝希望，

只为能够在远处再看一眼你散发的光芒。

这么多年了，时间已将你纺成将所有短暂的瞬间串起的一条线，

直到命运将我们的手再次拉到一处。在你向我发出初次请求

要我扮演你的恋人 —— 一个远离世界

喧嚣的护盾时我震惊了。我被喜悦填满，

一股如此强烈的潮让我害怕自己随后可能消失。

然而恐惧这个古老的破坏者，将我的勇气化作灰烬。

我选择回避，我的迟疑成了一把刀。

我试图一笑而过可到头来只是闹剧一场。

后悔仍在刺痛我，一场迟到了实在太久的空洞的合唱。

也有别人从我生活中掠过，但她们与你

根本不能相提并论。此后的亲密关系再没有

你给予的那种特殊的奇妙感 —— 你将美升华

至比星辰还要闪耀许多的东西。

可能过去这几年你已另有所属，

但你的身影却徘徊在每条街道，每个季节，

仿佛你仍在我身旁，将秘密

写入我们共同的笔记本的边缘。

我将对你的回忆封锁在沉默的地下室内，

以免时间腐蚀了它的轮廓。但那把锁开始生锈；

你的脸模糊成一幅汇聚了各种遗憾的水彩，

我的双手永远在重画着内心正在遗忘的部分。

懦弱紧随着我 —— 对于寻找自己

心上人的恐惧。我编了一堆关于重聚

的惊心动魄的故事，却害怕它们会以墓志铭的形式出现，而非开场白。

我深信我的心已麻木成霜，

直至你的笑再次从我的脑海里一闪而过。

在夜晚的静谧中，我跟随虚幻的脚步

透过数字踪迹，寻找关于你现在的点滴。

你是一颗彗星 —— 明亮而主动 ——

给我平凡的日子涂上一层借来之光，

然后销声匿迹，只在我的光阴之皮上

留下一道金色的疤痕。

我为自己的盲目，为我笨拙的沉默而忏悔，

徒劳地对着冷漠无情的天空祈祷着：

让失去的重被寻回。让破碎的得到愈合。

但地球依旧不停转动，漠不关心。

你的出现引发了一场令人难忘的似曾相识，

仿佛我们的心曾一度在被遗忘的暮色里起舞，

而我现在被困在珍惜回响与将其

丢入时光之风间柔和的矛盾里。

Jeremiah Chen 是香港中文大学的一名学生。

---

新世纪之歌

作者：田甜

一只小羊乘风而下，

坐在蛇状的光里，嘴里振振有词。

俯向一片绿得震惊的屋顶，

它想起了学习短跑的那个下午，

母亲给予的那些让人心碎的东西。

无法破译的霞的信号，

潜伏在它的内脏中间，

据于脾的西部，给生活

带来些许不便。

就一个周三来说，这些叙述

有些过于冗长了。你总是如此，

让羊为难。

浅湾上已有了一层使人

心情不畅的材料，

羊看到其中的屋顶、霞和心的碎片，

向瓦格纳祈祷，这次是真的，

重新来过。

“我会做一个全新的小羊，克制

城市、大厦和茶水间的诱惑，

和刀保持距离。”

田甜，现生活与学习于瑞士。

song of a new century

translated by PLS

a lamb rides the wind down,

sitting inside snake-shaped light, speaking in an argumentative manner.

bending towards a terribly green roof,

it starts to recall the afternoon when it learned to sprint,

the heartbroken things its mother had given it.

the indecipherable signals of the sunset glow,

ambushing its internal organs,

occupying the west of the spleen, bringing

some difficulties to life.

for a Wednesday, this account

is too tedious. you’re always like this,

making it difficult for the lamb.

there has been a layer of unpleasant

materials across the shoal,

in which the lamb sees the roof, the glow and the broken heart,

prays to Wagner*, this time for real,

i will start over again.

“i will be a new lamb, resist

the temptation from the city, skyscrapers and tea room,

and keep a safe distance from blades."

*Richard Wagner, German composer and theatre director.

Tian Tian currently lives and studies in Switzerland. 

---

Furiously Backpedal

by Nicole Zhao  

Do you remember the park 

in that southern city, where 

to celebrate the long awaited peace, we purchased a bunch of bananas and sat 

on the bench there and people watched, waited all afternoon for someone to come along with their own bananas

Us, having spent the war years only in the north, did not know how to eat the bananas, nor did we know the soft flesh beneath their golden jackets

what a delightful surprise!

Do you remember that time we nearly starved?

The rations ran dry, only pieces of

paper and the promise of sugar, meat, flour,

grains and pieces of elm bark, which we mixed with precious wheat to make noodles—a recipe from the winter of our lives

What about the time we went to the new square together? the one in front of the library, also new

I sat on the stone bench with you beneath the big oak and I

sneakily plucked small blooms of a rose moss purslane and placed them in my pocket

you rode on your tricycle, feeling the smoothness of fresh concrete 

oh how I wish, to wipe a tear from your cheek

and furiously backpedal to a time 

when we all existed together.

Nicole Zhao is a molecular biologist living in Boston.

疯狂倒骑

翻译：诗验室

你还记得那个南方城市

的那座公园，我们在

那里庆祝期待已久的和平，买了一捆香蕉，坐在

那里的长凳上，人们看着，整个下午都在等着某个人带着

他们自己的香蕉出现

我们在北方度过了战乱时期，并不知道怎么吃香蕉，也对

金色外壳里柔软的果肉一无所知

多么令人愉悦的惊喜！

你还记得那次我们差点饿死了吗？

那时几乎弹尽粮绝，只剩几张

白纸以及关于糖、肉、面粉的承诺

我们将谷物、榆树皮和珍贵的小麦混合揉面 —— 一道

来自我们生活之冬的菜谱

还有那次我们一起去新广场？在同样是新的图书馆前的那个广场？

我们坐在大橡树下的石凳上，我

偷偷摘下几朵玫瑰、苔藓和马齿苋并将它们放入兜里

你骑着你的三轮车，感受着新水泥地面的顺滑

噢，我多么希望，从你脸上抹去一滴泪

疯狂倒骑回那段我们

都活着的时光。

Nicole Zhao 是一名住在波士顿的分子生物学家。

---

我想要

作者：铲子

当我想说，“我想要”。

我感到喉咙从两边被卡住：

左边是从水与风中而来的

母系祖先的手 ——

隐匿的、保护的、可以预知地震的

枯长而透明的指尖 ——

“要的太多就会受到惩罚”

“一定有什么陷阱，你会变成鱼”

“别喝那杯水，那是他的影子”

“你的羞耻心呢？”

右边是废墟中生出的

父系祖先的手 ——

不断从零建造的、禁欲的、剑一样的

漆黑的、带着蓝色眼睛的 ——

“你不是为了渴望而降生”

“一切都会清算、每个念头都在负债”

“你要为比你更大的东西而活”

“爱是什么？”

可是我，此刻 ——

七八岁年纪般，趴在地上，

热切地看着并羡慕着他们之间

那个柔软的、巴掌大小的动物

它似乎还站不起来

却在发光

当我伸手要摸

她瞪了我一眼

当我想说，“我也想要”

他的微信头像

却突然变成了两个

铲子，是一名催眠师。

i’d like to

translated by PLS

when i want to say, “i’d like to.”

i feel my throat squeezed from both sides:

on the left is a hand from maternal ancestors

travelling in the water and wind—

the slender and transparent fingertips

hidden, protective, able to predict earthquakes—

“you’ll be punished for wanting too much”

“there must be some sort of trap, you’ll turn into a fish”

“don’t drink that cup of water, it’s his shadow”

“what about your sense of shame?”

on the right is a hand from paternal ancestors

grown out of ruins—

constantly building from scratch, abstinent, swordlike

pitch-black, and with blue eyes—

“you’re not born for desire”

“everything will become clear, every thought is in debt”

“you need to live for something grander than you”

“what is love”

but me, right now—

like a teen, flopped on the ground,

passionately watching and admiring that soft

and palm-sized animal between them

seems like it’s not able to stand yet

though it is glittering

as i extend my arm to touch

she stares at me

when i want to say, “i’d like to.”

his profile picture on wechat

has turned into two

Chan Zi is a hypnotist.

photography 摄影 © 离耳