Winter '20 Issue | 2020 冬季刊
两次河流
作者：帕凡
两次河流交替穿过我
消磨泥沙，升起白雾
或向远处起伏
我常常忽略
它们的有限
和透明
霜露之外来回摇动
蜻蜓的长翼
一边也像另一边
光泽令人困惑
纹路自圆其说——
“两个城市都有河流经过，
奔腾向前绝不回头”
帕凡，翻译，常居福建福州。
Twice Rivers
translated by PLS
Twice rivers have flown through me by turn
abrading sands, ascending mists
or roaming toward distance
I often neglect
their capabilities
and transparencies
swaying back and forth outside frost
Long wings of the dragonfly
one looks just like the other
Its lustre confusing
textures justifiable —
“Through two cities there are rivers
that never look back or turn around.”
Pa Fan is a translator based in Fuzhou of Fujian Province.
A Moment of Not Doing
by Alan Wang
I left a single lily on the pedestal off which
you knocked me
and on which I slept
with a single hand, cut off by thinking out loud
The fat lady under the palm tree saw me gawking
at what doesn't belong to me, a page
ripped off from the convention consecrated by vagabonds
and truth peddlers
There I was, swept under my own bantering with old souls
empty buildings and empty cups
The causal exchange of looks hurts me, they dance but they speak nothing
When can we leave for a peephole of sea
To see waves thump other couples' bed
screaming and begging for less
Less looking, less uncertain about how many cubes
should I put in my drinks
The chair that moves, the shoes that fit
I complimented everything so I could hear the music
that they feigned hearing
Men crawling like dogs, planes howling
You think you are depressed no more but you keep being told
who you are, what you should have said
and where you can pace around for not doing
To the point that even clothing shrills
even liars stopped expecting
Alan Wang, editor and translator based in Shanghai.
无为一刻
翻译：阿兰王与诗验室
在你扫落我的尊严之处
我留铃兰一支
我曾在此，因自语受刑
也与断臂长眠
棕榈树下的腴妇看我傻盯着
非我之物，流浪者和真理贩
祝过圣的公约中
被人撕下的一页
彼时，我也曾被自己与老者的打趣感动
空荡的大楼，空荡的茶杯
不经意的目光交流刺痛我，眼神交错起舞
却缄默不语
何时能出发寻觅海的窥孔
偷看海浪冲刷恋人的温床
哭喊着 乞求着 少一点
少看一点，少一点
对酒中冰量的迟疑
我赞扬能动的椅子，合脚的鞋
我赞扬一切，只为听见人们
佯听的音乐
人如狗匐，飞机长嚎
沉郁过后，他们仍在不停告诫
你是谁，你应该说什么
你可以在何处无为踱步
直到穿衣也开始刺耳
说谎的人也不再期盼
阿兰王，现居上海，是一名编辑兼翻译。
01
作者：蚩蚩
午夜 世界像蚌一样敞开
捧住一声雷 一颗珍珠未来的倒影
雨 重拾老式的舞步
矮小的阁楼里 淡紫色被豢养
这群以声音为食的动物 正无声狂喜
指尖摩挲一曲春日的奏鸣
为我高雅的囚徒们 献上
一具如霜的宴席
驾驭温暖的刀刃 行驶一艘无目的的船
由低向高的 川流中
一对漩涡般的耳 静候着
渴望自由的动物
盘旋在更高的阁楼里
蚩蚩，CAA雕塑系在读。
01
translated by PLS
At midnight, the world opens up like an oyster
Embracing the sound of a thunder, the future shadow of a pearl
Rain, picking up old style dance steps
Inside a dwarfed attic, lilac is kept and fed
This flock of animals who live on sounds, ecstatic without a sound
Fingertip dancing out a song of spring
For my noble prisoners, preparing
A frostlike feast
A blade that steers warmth, helming a purposeless vessel
From low to high, among the streams
A pair of swirling ears, waiting in silence
Animals longing for freedom
Circling inside a higher attic
Chi Chi is a student at the China Academy of Art.
To Tip the Scales
by Matt Schroeder
there’s no silver bullet to stop the beast no proper bill to be taken from your body & given to the offertory no sugar pill to swallow & sweeten the bitterness these days leave all over everything no golden ticket that delivers you to the arms of a magic man with all the answers no program on tv you can switch to bathing yourself in light to make this all go away no water you could wash your filth with to leave you holier than thou no tail to spread & color the day in beauty so that we forget no song or psalm so sweet in the mouth that could command blood to flow in reverse & air to dance backwards into our dead
they’re all our dead
Matt Schroeder is a poet and educator currently living in southern China. His poetry can be found in Thin Air Magazine, The Rush, Dovecote Magazine, The Decadent Review, Fearsome Critters Magazine and more.
让秤失衡
翻译：诗验室
制止兽行没有妙招 你的身上找不到合适的账单用于供奉 没有糖片可吞并用以减轻现今无处不在的痛楚 没有能够将你送往拥有所有答案的魔法师怀里的黄金车票 没有其它可选的电视台 在灯光下清洗自己试图洗去这一切 没有能够把你的污秽洗掉让你变成假圣人的水 没有可以展开和将日子绘成美景以致于让我们遗忘的尾巴 没有在嘴里甜美得足以让鲜血倒流和空气倒退着舞至我们之死的歌声或赞美诗
他们皆为我们之死
Matt Schroeder 是一位居住在中国南部的诗人与教育工作者。他的作品散见于《Thin Air Magazine》、《 The Rush》、《Dovecote Magazine》、《 The Decadent Review》以及《 Fearsome Critters Magazine》等文学期刊。
中山路
作者：帕凡
中山路的一边是新的
浮尘在古马球场旁公转
除此之外是热带河流
有人在舟上
与横斜的经线结为兄弟
一些没有倒影的箭头
九十年代的小区草木狭窄
宿醉的天空站在合抱的软肋里
再往外，是凹陷的泥土
头重脚轻的火焰
归人日复一日渐渐透明
最后只能从树上离开
谁先中断背影
谁就一路点亮镜中的照壁
帕凡，翻译，常居福建福州。
Zhongshan Road
translated by PLS
It’s new on one side of Zhongshan Road
Dust revolving around an old polo field
Besides that it’s just tropical streams
Some people on the boat
Swearing to be brothers with slanted longitudinals
There are arrows without a shadow
A neighborhood from the ’90s swamped with grass and trees
Hungover sky standing inside folded weak spot
Beyond that, it’s just sunken mud
Light-headed flames
Returnees turning transparent day after day
In the end have to depart from the trees
He who first severs the silhouette
Lights up the screen in the mirror all the way
Pa Fan is a translator based in Fuzhou of Fujian Province.
无题
作者：汤雅萱
无效的沟通
没有回响的惨白
明天，一条红色斑点狗
将走上缄默的传送带
破碎的旗帜和无所适从的
失语的，其他的狗
一个个，托着石头做成的颧骨
看向白沙，看向窗
看向门户，看向心房
“左眼太阳，右眼月亮
肌肤是大地，血液是河流“
好像过了很久
好像还在当下
汤雅萱，出生成长于深圳。
Untitled
translated by PLS
Futile communication
Paleness without an echo
Tomorrow, a red Dalmatian
Shall step on a silent conveyor belt
Ragged flag and other
Disoriented aphasic dogs
One by one, holding their cheekbones of stone
Gazing toward white sand, toward windows
Toward gates, toward atriums
“Left eye becomes the sun, right eye the moon
Skin the earth, blood the rivers.”
As if it’s been a long time
As if it's still the moment
Tang Yaxuan was born and raised in Shenzhen.
Night
by Joan McNerney
Slides under door jambs
pouring through windows
painting my room black.
This evening was spent
watching old movies.
Song and dance actors
looping through gay,
improbable plots.
All my plates are put away,
cups hanging on hooks.
The towel is still moist.
I blow out cinnamon candles
wafting the air with spice.
Listening now to heat
sputtering and dogs
barking at winds.
Joan McNerney’s poetry has been included in literary magazines such as Seven Circle Press, Poet Warriors, Bright Hills Press, and Poppy Road Review. Her latest title, The Muse In Miniature, is available on Amazon and Cyberwit.net. She has four Best of the Net nominations.
夜
翻译：诗验室
从门缝滑入
从窗户涌进
将我的屋子染黑。
今夜
我看了老电影。
歌声与舞蹈演员
在愉快又荒谬的剧情中
循环着。
所有的餐盘都已放好，
茶杯悬在挂钩上。
抹布还未干。
肉桂蜡烛的香气在
空气中飘荡着，我吹灭它。
此刻，听着热的嘟哝
和狗对风发出的号叫。
Joan McNerney 曾在《Seven Circle Press》、《Poet Warriors》、《Bright Hills Press》以及《Poppy Road Review》等处发表过诗歌.。她的最近一部诗集《The Muse In Miniature》现于亚马逊平台和Cyberwit.net上有售。她曾获“Best of the Net”四次提名。
光秃秃的树
作者：罗冠宇
一般这种树不开花
而我的这棵却在夕阳沉下之后
开出了一朵绿色的唢呐形状的花
预言者说这是回光返照
邻居说唢呐声音太大
已经很久了
灰褐色拥在一起，逐渐变暗
笔直的树梢挂着一片半枯的叶子
和一朵活力四射的绿花
或许它不会停止演奏
但终有一天叶子会落下
我紧锁眉心
停止跳动的粗糙变成窸窣的耳语
灰尘和氧气在周围到处结痂
这种预兆将被砍掉
斧头拿来了
银灰色啮齿动物
与人群失去色差
洞穴般的城市
忍受着重负上点燃的烟花
我用唢呐呼吸浓稠的空气
礼花绽放，犹如宣言摊开胸前
这棵枯树被砍下
绿色的幽灵诞生
这座房子将缄口不言
罗冠宇是一名诗人兼自由职业者，现工作生活于北京。
A Stark Tree
translated by PLS
Generally this kind of tree doesn’t bloom
But this one of mine after the sunset
Bloomed a green Suona-shaped flower
The prophet said this is the last radiance of the setting sun
The neighbor said the “Suona” is too loud
It had been a long time
Taupe huddled together and gradually darkened
A half dead leaf and a vibrant green flower
Hanging over the standing treetop
Perhaps it would't stop playing
But one day the leaves would fall
I scowled
The coarseness that stopped beating turned into a rustling whisper
Dust and oxygen scabbed everywhere
This omen would be cut off
So here came the axe
Silver gray rodents
Lost its chromatic aberration with the crowd
Cavelike cities
Enduring fireworks lit over a heavy burden
I inhaled the dense air with the “Suona”
Fireworks blooming, like a manifesto spread across the chest
This dead tree was cut down
The green spirit was born
This house would be silent
Luo Guanyu is a poet and freelancer based in Beijing.
In the Museum of Past Centuries
by Kevin Patrick McCann
We have Aztec gold, blood-stained swords,
Voyages of discovery, slave collars,
Sugar cane, pyramids of ivory,
Covered wagons, go west young man!
Henry Ford, oil wells gushing,
The waterlogged bodies of refugees,
Bloated profits, mission statements,
Acid rain, declarations, dying rivers,
Procrastination, shoals of plastic
Clogging dead seas: in the museum
Of past centuries we have the last
Billionaire, the last breathable air
And the rain forest’s very last tree.
Kevin Patrick McCann lives in Liverpool, England and has been writing poetry for about 50 years.
在旧世纪的博物馆里
翻译：诗验室
有阿兹特克金、被血染过的刀剑
发现之旅、奴隶项圈
甘蔗、象牙金字塔
被盖住的马车、一路向西吧，年轻人！
亨利· 福特、喷油的油井
难民被水淹没的身体
膨胀的利润、任务说明
酸雨、宣告、奄奄一息的河流
拖延、一堆堆塑料
堵住死去的海：在旧世纪的
博物馆里，有最后一位
亿万富翁，最后一抹可呼吸的空气
以及雨林仅剩的最后一棵树。
Kevin Patrick McCann 居住在英国利物浦，写诗至今已有近50载。
费尔南多伯爵的自白
作者：安都林
十四世纪某年，邻近里斯本
在一座富饶的小镇我成为
你们口中的吸血鬼
时间赐予我广博的智慧
但我一向耽于寻乐
疏于辩驳。若不是幸福遭受
人类文字的扭曲
它们苍白，无血
无生命可摧毁
我别无他法，惟有挥笔
以字还字
听着，我从不厌倦
也不后悔我的命运
永生真的很好
尤其是，我没有受过穷
挨过饿。我做人时
是伯爵的次子，不做人后
也当过伯爵，宫廷大臣
和推翻自己的革命者
有着可疑财富的
酿酒商，建筑师，航海家
我也是杀人犯与哲学家
一个不老不死的
卡萨诺瓦。我的受害者
同样来自各行各业
我得到的如此多
以至于我的失去
也变成某种得到
我曾注意到，即使
最平凡的石匠之子
也有独特的人生
内心自成一个世界
当他的双臂搬动石块
营造教堂，内心却筑起
真正的天国，敢于在宝座安放
一个他不知姓名的女子，而非神
这全宇宙只有一人知道的秘密
会随他进入坟墓。只有我
在饱尝其鲜血之后得以
感知，因此
只要有人出生
时间就无法重复自身
而你们看不到邻人
甚至看不到自己
却妄谈看得太多
我庆幸我无法生育后代
我庆幸我生不出你们
死就是死
生命的结束是一桩憾事
我不曾遇见
从虚无中返回的人
就像我不曾遇见
想死的吸血鬼
因为永恒是好的
无法到达的永恒
更好。不然
我们还能是什么？如果不是
宇宙中一场绚丽的大病？
为何不停止空想
永生的苦闷，而是
带着必败的信念
优雅地接近，或许
接受我现在提出的赌局
当有一天我们相遇
谁认为永生是坏的
我便给予死
谁不想死
我便给予永生
安都林是香港的一名电视剧编剧。
A Confession by Lord Fernando
translated by PLS
Sometime during the 14th century, near Lisbon
I became the vampire you once claimed
in an abundant town
Time endowed me with intelligence
but I always indulged myself in pleasure
negligent of debating. If happiness didn’t suffer
vilification from people’s words
which were meaningless, bloodless,
had no life to destroy
I had no choice, but to pick up a pen
a word for a word
Listen, I was never tired
or regretted my destiny
To live forever does sound really good
especially because I was never poor
or short of food. When I was alive
I was Lord’s second son, not a direct heir
was a Lord once, a minister
and defeated my own revolutionists
was a winemaker with a suspicious amount of
wealth, an architect, a voyager
I was also a murderer and philosopher
A Casanova that
wouldn’t die until he’s too old. My victims
also came from every industry
I had gained so much
to an extent my loss
was also a form of gain
I had noticed that, however ordinary
the son of a stonemason was
he could still have a distinct life
his mind is his own game
When he moved the stones with arms
constructing a church, deep down in his heart he’s actually building
a real heaven, had the nerve to place on the throne
a girl whose name unknown to him, instead of god
This secret known to none but him
would follow him to the grave. And me
only after sucking enough of his blood did I
perceive it, therefore
as long as there’s new born
time then would not repeat itself
And you wouldn’t see a neighbor
not even yourselves
but you kept boasting that you’d seen too much
I am glad I am not able to reproduce
I am glad I don’t have to give birth to you
Death is death
Ending of a life is disappointing
I never came across someone
who returned from nothingness
Just like I never came across
vampires who wish to die
Because eternity sounds good
but unreachable eternity
even better. Otherwise
what else can we be? If not
a flamboyant illness in the universe?
Why not stop fantasizing
about impossibilities of eternity, instead
gracefully approach
with a faith of definite defeat, maybe
take the gamble I am proposing now
When we meet again one day
whoever thinks eternity is bad
I shall give them death
whoever doesn’t want to die
I shall give them eternity
An Dulin is a scriptwriter from Hong Kong.
When Words Come for Me
by Alice Chen Ding
When words come for me, I cannot hide.
First a trickle, and then they strike.
Duck, duck, swivel, try as I might—
Futile attempts among sighs resigned.
They say, “hello,” “help,” and “hold us close”
In torrents incessant, in fumbling flak.
I say, “no,” “not yet,” “there’s money to make.”
The body precedes the spirit’s stake.
“We waited and waited, but you didn’t come;
Tomorrow we might not be found.”
Weaker and weaker, their voices cry
While evanesced are breaths of mine.
A hollowed shell, I chip and crack.
I grasp their shadows with broken hands.
I put them on paper for one more chance.
Come back to me, my dear old friends.
Alice Chen Ding loves to write.
当灵感走向我
翻译：诗验室
当灵感走向我，我无法逃避。
从一开始的涓涓细流，到后来的猛烈撞击。
头一低，腰一弯，身子一转，无论我怎么努力 ——
徒劳的尝试中夹杂着唉声叹气。
她们说，“你好”、“帮帮忙”、“抓住我”
一波紧接着另一波，笨拙地指责着。
我回答，“不”、“还未到时候”、“我还要赚钱”。
无奈糊口胜过精神追求。
“我们等啊等，你却没有出现；
明天你可能就找不到我们。”
她们抽泣着，声音越来越弱
可远去的却只是我自己的呼吸。
我像一具空洞的壳，碎裂着。
用残破的手抓住她们的影子。
然后把她们放在纸上再试一次。
回来吧，我亲爱的老朋友。
Alice Chen Ding 热爱写作。
猫与玫瑰叙事
作者：池渊树
十里狂风浇息了旧世纪的狂欢。崭新如猫的时代
玫瑰是新世界的王。用磅礴的光刺入你深渊般的魂魄
月亮翻阅天书，在缓缓流动的星河下，我学会许多诡术
蚂蚁横渡腐朽之体量，秋草跌落而音律晦涩如酒
风中的女子被泥沙销除，你毒发时宛如进入泥石流的陈述
今夜，将田野的青蛙都背到梦中去，蝴蝶将颠覆重力场
带着人类伟大的孤独，落子在猫妩媚的手掌上
成长的玫瑰，在伊甸园祈求爱情的流星
热恋的男女在灌木林中，熟悉彼此身上的发条
我们是冥河之中缠绕的大蛇，爱是我们性命攸关的
修炼。大地是卯榫的身体，呼吸宛如震荡的星子
猫在怀中酯化，耳孔黑洞洞，宇宙在颤动。发胀的经脉中
孵化着她所钟爱的楔形玫瑰。留声机中缓缓踱步而出的蔚蓝
喂进骨子里。如珍珠一样地爱着她，从蛇的尾部跳起
感受量子级的抚摸。受伤的花瓣，猫不再属于我
远离机械的磁场，想要更解放地爱你
而幻境即将退幕，我们退出了彼此体腔内温柔的子弹
池渊树，大宇宙的一枚随意棋。
Story of a Cat and a Rose
translated by PLS
Miles of raging wind extinguished an ancient jamboree. In a time as refreshing as the cat
Rose is the king of the new world. Permeating your soul deep as the abyss with majestic lights
Moon reading the book of heaven, under the river of flowing stars, I learn about many trickeries
Ants traversing through the body of decay, autumn-grass falling amid rhythms esoteric as alcohol
Lady in the wind erased by the sand, when poison takes hold it’s like you are entering a mudslide
Tonight send all the field frogs to the dream, butterflies will overturn the gravitational field
Taking the great solitude of the human race, landing on the charming palm of the cat
Flourishing roses, praying for the shooting star of love in the Garden of Eden
Couples in love hiding in the shrubs, getting to know each other’s mechanisms
We are the intertwined snakes of river Styx, love is our essential
Practice. Earth is the body of mortise and tenon, his breath is like rocking particles
Cats esterified in the bosom, ear-piercings pitch-dark, the universe is quaking. Inside bloated meridians
Her beloved wedge-rose is being hatched. Slowly welled blue out of phonograph
Fed into the bones. Love her like pearls, jump from a snake’s tail
Feel the strokes of quantum stage. Injured petals, indicating the cat no longer belongs to me
Away from the magnetic field of machineries, is to love you more freely
But the fantasy is receding, we are done with the tender bullets in our bodies.
Chi Yuanshu, a random chesspiece in the universe.
Cover Image copyright © 离耳