水之曲
作者：商榷
舞台上的演员 抽动一下鼻子
以人造信号 昭示历史之交替
掌声逗留于乐章之间
正如呼吸 深陷时间的裂痕
残烛若明若暗 人们生来
就为某些关系修修补补
或说修修补补 即为关系本身
打击乐器 登录我们的身体 探索回声
水 模仿蝉翼
模仿红绿灯
模仿Windows XP
模仿 一切 直到 在模仿中 自溺
商榷，著有诗集《少时餐桌》。
the water song
translated by PLS
actors on stage sniffle
declaring the historical changes with manmade signal
the clapping lingers between movements
as if breaths sinking in the crevice of time
the expiring candle flickers, people are born
to tinker for some relationships
or the tinkering is actually the relationship itself
the percussions log onto our bodies exploring echoes
water impersonates a cicada’s wings
impersonates traffic lights
impersonates Windows XP
impersonating everything until it drowns in the impersonations
Shang Que is the author of poetry collection Dining Table from Childhood.
灵魂伴侣
作者：Faye
语言和言语巩固已有的认知
思想者眺望，思想所及，远于远方和远
如果沉默，寂静里生出黑洞
是时间的活动，意识的积累
那么表达与否，已无二致
但克服了重重孤独险境的表达
不过将一个锈迹斑斑的思想之青铜重新打磨
不再有新的知识和观点，这个世界
两个灵魂，同一种语言
过度使用，反复演算许多真相
一个审美的夜晚，互相理解
作为灵魂，它们也有弱点
Faye，长居新西兰，写诗数年。
soulmate
translated by PLS
language and speech consolidate the existing cognition
the thinker overlooks, where the thoughts reach, is further than the distance and farther than far
if silence and the black hole grown out of it
are the activities of time, and the accumulation of consciousness,
then whether they are expressed or not, is no different
but an expression that defeats all danger of solitude
does no more than whetting the rusted bronze of thought
no more new knowledge and opinions, this world
two souls, the same language
overused, calculating many truths over and over
a night of aesthetics, understanding one another
as souls, they also bear weakness
Faye lives in New Zealand and has been writing poetry for years.
而今我们温顺得像一面镜子
作者：养恐龙
让没有野心的年轻人迅速死亡
好让应该正常的人能正常生长
世界诊断出你关于天真的疾病
拥有一切禁止讨论的症状
接受治疗的 假装陌生
将过去解释成想要的样子抵抗悔恨
我们身体发福 刀枪不入
养恐龙，来自四川的农民工。
and now we are tamed as a mirror
translated by PLS
let the ambition-less youngsters die quickly
so that those who should be normal can grow normally
the world has given you a diagnosis: an illness of innocence
which has all the symptoms forbidden to be discussed
those who agree to be treated pretend to be strangers
explaining the past as they want to fight against remorse
we are fattening, bulletproof
Yang Konglong is a migrant worker from Sichuan.
指
作者：王嘉麟
尸体在那边
我用手指着
尸体在语句沉断的那
——然而。杜宇毕竟
灰色了
返云，手错遮住的
唯一，暗海滩，词在
石脊的
安静，安静
雨下在尸体上
王嘉麟，2003年生。
naming
translated by PLS
the corpse is there
i point over
it is in the brokenness of the sentence
——but. Du Yu* eventually
greyed
the returning clouds, the only erroneously shrouded
by hand, dark shoal, words
quiet on the spine
of a rock, quiet
rain over the corpse
*one of the semi-mythological kings of the ancient state of Shu, whose soul was believed to have transformed into a cuckoo after he died.
Wang Jialin was born in 2003.
Ode to Distance
by Sass Rogando Sasot
We are
for you’re not
a dividing void
but bridge
between breaths,
notes, words, particles,
moments,
lying suspended
above ravines,
arched over
troubling waters.
Horizontal beam
from here to there;
vertical steep,
summit to ground.
How we dare to end you
with proximity’s law,
only to find closer
is just another further,
a lengthening span.
But what would be
without you?
Where would chaos get
the momentum of order?
How would strings shiver
into stars?
Would planets still spin,
just as elegant?
Where would light get
the speed of its beam?
How would cells divide
into a brain?
Would scent still scent
in the absence of your nose?
Yet you wilfully collapse
in observation:
movements merging,
melding, fluxing,
threads, ribbons,
orbits, axis,
flavors of flow…
Sass Rogando Sasot is a Filipina student in Beijing.
距离赞歌
翻译：诗验室
我们之所以是
因为你不是
一个只起分割作用的空洞
而是连接呼吸
音符、词语、颗粒
及瞬间的桥梁
悬于
山谷之上，
拱于
愁水之上。
水平之梁
自此至彼
千尺悬崖
自上而下
我们居然敢用
接近法则终结你
到头来却发现更近
实则另一种更远
一个不断伸展的跨度。
可若没了你
一切又如何呢？
混乱又怎能
重返秩序？
弦又如何颤
成星辰？
星球还将一如即往
优雅地转动么？
光又从何处
获得速度？
细胞又如何
分化成大脑？
没了你
气味还能闻得了么？
然而你却在观察中
恣意垮掉：
各种运动靠近
合并、熔化
线条、丝带
轨道、轴
流之味……
Sass Rogando Sasot 是一名在北京求学的菲律宾人。
行为艺术提案2
作者：Taihui
（过去的笔记提供了一些动作指导，
它说：如果你想沉浸进去，就像水陷落在水中……）
在天花板上悬挂一面镜子
然后躺在床上，看着天花板，凝视一段时间
直到疲倦，然后你必须睡着
必须在梦里梦见那面镜子
必须在梦里把自己的身体剖开
（这是为了释放出高潮，它就在你的体内，
像信任你自己一样信任梦：流出的血不会杀死你
你会被伤的很深，但你发现，你还在呼吸）
必须对着自己吼叫，说出一些肮脏的词汇
必须和自己扭打在一起，然后惊醒并哭泣
Taihui，文本与非文本艺术创作者。
performance art proposal 2
translated by PLS
(a note from the past have provided some guidance on action,
it says: if you want to immerse yourself, just like how water sinks in water…)
suspend a mirror from the ceiling
then lie in bed, stare at the ceiling, for a while
until you’re fatigued, then you must fall asleep
must dream about the mirror in the dream
must cut yourself open in the dream
(this is to release the orgasm, it’s inside you,
trust the dream as you would trust yourself: the blood won’t kill you
you will be hurt deeply, but you’ll find yourself still breathing)
you must yell at yourself, say something dirty
you must wrestle with yourself, and wake with a start and weep
Taihui is a textual and non-textual art creator.
回家·其一
作者：养恐龙
诗躲在字典
年轻人都藏向书
你不存在 如果没有人阅读
被抛下的标点
挤不进城市 回不去村庄
失去换行失去韵律失去改造语言的野心
失去一个逗号，
一次
呼吸的许可
一张稿纸被撕碎就收获一份勇气
所以怀念也是一种特权
攒够了体面的人呐
请替我乘上 回故乡的车
going home I
translated by PLS
the poem hides itself in the dictionary
the youngsters hide themselves in books
you don’t exist if no one reads
the punctuation marks left behind
unable to find a place in the city, nor return to the village
losing newline losing metres losing the ambition to reform languages
losing a comma,
once,
a permit to breathe
to tear a manuscript is to harvest a courage
therefore yearning is a privilege too
those who have earned enough dignity
please get on the returning bus home for me
石头博物馆
作者：孙灵芝
在石头博物馆
有各种形状的石头
各吹各的风
各承各的目光
东一颗，西一颗
人和山一样
身体也会长出石头
有时候，我想起那个
得了结石病的朋友
他疼的时候
扶着腰也止不住疼
他长出来的石头
被手术取出来
东一颗，西一颗
有时候，我想起你
想起我们是宇宙长出的石头
两颗沉默的石头让宇宙心疼
各历各的风月
各练各的深沉
东一颗，西一颗
孙灵芝，出版诗集《有时》及诗绘本《是蓝花花哟》。
museum of stones
translated by PLS
inside the museum of stones
there are different shapes of stones
each with their own spot
each bearing their looks
one left, one right
men are like mountains
stones grow out of them
sometimes i think of the
friend who has stones
when the pain starts
not even holding his back can stop it
the stones that grow out of him
are taken out through surgery
one left, one right
sometimes, i think of you
think of us as the stones born by the universe
two silent stones loved dearly by the universe
each going through its own journey
each casting its own sophistication
one left, one right
Sun Lingzhi is the author of poetry collection Sometime and illustrated poetry book It's a Blue Flower.
孕
作者：小澜
香烟，酒精，狂欢。有时可卡因。
我弯下腰，腹部。痛感像潮水袭来
该死
我怀上了你的孩子
它吸食我生命中为数不多的养料
令人恐惧地唤起我的母性
而这一切，只不过是因为那天
我让你看了
我最美丽的伤痕。
你没有说话，只是用哀视
叩起我心中爱的大门
一个忧郁的人，以痛苦为他唯一的勋章
异类。然后你离开了。
而它带着对你情欲的延续
摧残我
爱是如此弱小而脆弱
哪怕是源自
一个
微不足道的巧合
小澜，喜欢画画与写作。
pregnancy
translated by PLS
cigarettes, alcohol, rave. sometimes cocaine.
i bend my back, abdomen. pains arrive in tides
damn
i’m pregnant with your child
it sucks the few nutrients out of my life
scarily wakes the mother in me
but all this, was because that day
i revealed to you
my most beautiful scar.
you didn’t say a word, with a sad look
unlocking the door of love in me
a despondent man, who takes pride solely in suffering
an outcast. and then you left.
but it bears the continuation of your desire
destroying me
love can be so small and fragile
even if born from
an insignificant
coincidence
Xiao Lan likes to paint and write.
皇后镇的孤独
作者：Faye
（一）
朝霞在身后，秋天的中段
某棵不知名的树，同一片叶子，一半绿一半红
和它全然绿色的样子，真不知，哪个是它本来面目
很多树的叶子几近掉光，剩下零星的几片在枝头悬着
像屋檐角上随风荡漾的风铃，多少次险些被拽走
不知是它们有自己的执念，还是命运的眷顾，它们如今还在那枝头
扭动，发出好听的声音——
声音，被收进往来的风尘，一路辗转
没有特定的方向，意味着到处都是方向
随处可去和无处可去，或许都算得上自由
若它们漂泊四方还回来，那悬着的几片，大概也早有了各自的去处
正是这辗转，它们见过一些好人
给贫穷的土地带去善意，在村庄目睹人的苦恼
他们满怀希望地活着，不曾真正理解命运
而了解一点命运的人，无法好好地生活
（二）
冬天的冷，有它自己的结构
不知是冷风迎面撞到了我，还是我无端地闯入一阵风的内部，惊扰了它在冬天的意志
我凝视过某个冬日入夜前的天空
半个月亮，一边弧线清晰，另一边被云雾淡淡地晕开
周身环绕着圆形清楚的光晕，从我看向高处，（如果高处都是天）
仿佛那灰黑的天幕被扒开了一条利落的缝隙，露出窥探的、真诚的大眼睛
无法深究，是我的凝视窥探了它，还是它始终窥探着我所在的这片土地
毕竟它更懂这夜，和冬；更懂这土地上，皇后镇的孤独
（三）
一降温，山顶便要落雪
看护这寒冬的威严是每一座山的责任，这历史由来已久，比山本身更久
只有那“风铃的声音”经过，几经周折，告诉山下的人们——高处，只有雪的孤独
若是大雪覆盖整座山体，风铃的声音经过时，便要被冻住，便无法传达给下一处，更多的高处
只有雪山脚下的Wakatipu湖，承担起雪山新的重量
承担每一片雪花崩裂时的尖叫，承担它们化作雪水的春天
承担我，也就承担了你——
你是，来不及落在我门前的雪
你躺下的位置是我眼睛的深处，你待够一个冬天就走
像许多前来滑雪的人，不会和喜欢的事物永远待在一起，也不会只和它们待在一起
那风铃的声音辗转成我弯弯曲曲的思念，途经你没有落下的高度
再回到我这里，再回到叶子——
这是一个冬天和许多个冬天的复活
这是曲曲折折的顺从
这是皇后镇的孤独
the solitude of Queenstown
translated by PLS
1
sunrise behind you, in the middle of an autumn
upon an unknown tree, one leaf, sometimes half green half red
sometimes fully green, you never know, which is its true colour
most trees are left with few leaves, dangling on the tips of branches
like wind chimes dancing at the edge of the eave, so often so close to being lured away by wind
you never know if it’s out of their own belief, or fate, they are still gyrating
under the branches, making pretty sounds—
the sounds entangled with dusty wind, floating on
no set directions, meaning the direction is everywhere
going everywhere and having nowhere to go, may both be considered freedom
if they still return after all the travelling, those leaves, perhaps had their own destination long ago
it is through these twists and turns, they have met some kind people
offering some goodness to the arid land, witnessing the villagers’ suffering
they live full of hope, yet do not really understand fate
but those who know a thing or two about fate, can’t live properly
2
the wintry cold, has its own structure
not sure if it’s the cold wind that slaps me, or me who barges into the interior of a gust, disturbing its will for winter
i’ve stared at the sky before a winter day turns to night
half moon, one side a clear arc, the other sfumatoed by misty clouds
surrounded by a clear halo, looking up from where i am (if that height means the sky)
as if through a neat crevice in the dark veil, disclosing its inquisitive, honest eyes
it’s difficult to know, whether it’s my stare that probes it, or itself that has been probing the land I stand upon all along
after all it understands the night and winter better, the solitude of Queenstown on this land
3
as the temperature drops, it starts snowing atop the mountains
maintaining the wintry prestige is the responsibility of every mountain, it’s been like this, the tradition is older than the mountains
only the sound of wind chimes that passes, can then through a few detours, tell the people under the mountains: there’s only solitude of the snow high up
if the snow envelops the whole mountain, when the sound passes by, it will be frozen, unable to reach the next stop, the higher height
and only the Wakatipu Lake at the foot of the snow mountain, can stand the new weight of the snow mountain
stand the scream of every snowflake as they crack, stand the spring as they melt
stand me, stand you—
you are, the snow that never reaches my door
where you lie is the depth of my eyes, one winter then you’ll leave
like many who have come to skate, who would’t stay forever with what they love, and would’t stay only with them
the sound of wind chimes has turned into my sinuous longing, that passes by the height you never reach
and returned to where i am again, returned to leaf—
this is the resurrection of one winter and many winters
this is the twisting obedience
this is the solitude of Queenstown
There Are Words
by Zixia Liu
There are words for hunger, words for pain
words for loss, and words for joy. There is a word for
you, and one for me. Several for yellow, and
more for blue. Though, at a certain point, there are no
more words. No words for you laughing, throwing your head
back, your irises disappear. No words to describe
my failing. No words for seeing a group of
ancient uncles all dressed up, riding the metro.
No words for overhearing my grandmother
telephoning her friends. So-and-so died, did you
hear. Or one of her siblings she likes. Remember
when mom died, I was the one who paid for her
tomb. There are no words for death, only
around. Listen, at the height of my fever I
saw my grandmother sitting on my bed, careful not to
wrinkle the bedsheets. But no words for her, either - no
sentences, no lines. And none for hunger, nor pain
nor loss or joy. A term too thin, each
surviving on itself. Daily, I sit by my desk and try to catch
air. No other words are there for love
or friendship, only "zai-wei, zai-wei!" The ancient
uncles on the metro shout at one another when
one of them reaches his stop, and gets off.
See you again; see you
again.
Zixia Liu currently lives in Shanghai. She writes in both Chinese and English. Some of her poetry have been published in Eunoia Review.
有些词
翻译：诗验室、梓侠
有些词代表饥饿，有些代表痛
有些代表失去，有些代表悦。有一个词代表
你，一个代表我。几个词代表黄，更多
代表蓝。然而，在某一刻，却没有
更多的词了。没有形容你笑、向后仰头
甚至连虹膜都消失的词。没有能够描述
我的失败的词。没有能够描述一群
身着正装坐地铁的老爷叔的词。
没有能够形容无意中听到姥姥
致电老友，或者自己喜欢的兄弟姐妹
的词。“谁谁谁死了，你听说了么。还记得
咱妈走的时候，是我为她出钱
置办坟头的么。”没有描述死亡的词，只有围绕
它的词。听着，在发高烧时我
看见姥姥坐在床边，生怕
弄皱床单。但也没有能够形容她的词 —— 没有
句子，没有诗行。没有代表饥饿、痛
失去或悦的。一个过于单薄的术语，每个
都在靠自己存活着。每天，我都坐在桌前，试图捕捉
空气。没有更多代表爱或友谊
的词，只有“再会，再会！”那些苍老的
爷叔在地铁到站时
彼此嚷着，然后下车。
再会；再
会。
梓侠现居上海。她用中英双语进行诗歌创作，其英文作品曾发表于《Eunoia Review》。
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