These are unusual times. These poets are tale-tellers of their world. Their poems are for real people.

POEM OF THE DAY 每日一首

MEMORIES OF A SWAN

  • By He Bingling

  • One summer, on the way to Swan Lake,
  • halfway there I turned around.
  • I truly knew, at night
  • the darkest lake water
  • would summon you.
  • Those fish, with translucent, soft bellies,
  • lure us towards the lake’s depths.

  • I am a frog being cooked on low heat,
  • Hefei has been simmering in me for the past twenty years.
  • Countless bats fly low in the dusk.

  • Someone, on a balcony, is growing monks cress,
  • collecting its seeds.
  • In that seed is the face of a man grown old.
  • The past, so bitter, so dark.

  • But now, we are in late autumn,
  • and the south fork of Hefei river is slowing down.
  • I once was sensitive as a gypsy crab,
  • tramping along in September plying my trade,
  • no rest, day or night.

  • People find solace and love
  • at the water’s edge. She was nineteen,
  • and here she offered her first kiss.
  • In the twinkle of an eye, a little fish broke the surface
  • and rippled it, shining.

  • She shyly cupped her face,
  • her black hair flowing.

  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via WeChat (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊): https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/7_t03MjL_JugroPfbMeRPw


天鹅往事

  • 何冰凌

  • 某年夏天,在去天鹅湖的路上
  • 我折了回来
  • 我深深知道,在夜里
  • 黝黑的湖水会召唤你
  • 那些鱼都有发亮的软肋
  • 引着我们向湖的深处
  • 温水里煮着青蛙
  • 20年了,合肥在我的体内慢慢地热
  • 黄昏无数的蝙蝠低飞
  • 一个人在阳台上种花
  • 收旱金莲种子
  • 那种子里有一张老人的脸
  • 往事那么苦,那么深
  • 而今,秋天也越来越深
  • 南淝河的水流也慢了下来
  • 你曾是敏感的
  • 寄居蟹,在九月
  • 踏着哗哗作响的小水车
  • 昼夜不停歇
  • 人们总是在水边得到安慰
  • 和爱情。她十九岁
  • 在此献出初吻
  • 鱼儿一瞬间跃出水面
  • 波光粼粼
  • 她以手掩面
  • 黑发轻垂



YESTERDAYS' POEM OF THE DAY 昨日的 每日一首

GOOD NIGHT, YOUNG MAN

  • By Ding Peng

  • The glittering city whispers to you through the cell phone.
  • You can't sleep, you're an electrical conductor.
  • As your fingertips swipe across the screen
  • for second-hand truths, a current makes tiny waves.
  • Your eyelashes open and close, they look like the bristles on a spring millet.
  • Yes, if you die in a game, you will be resurrected.
  • Good night, young man. The voltage is stable tonight.
  • Go back to bed, but recharge your phone.
  • The camera fixes its gaze on you as you close your eyelids.
  • When your heart beats on the earth, you’ll fly
  • through a nebula to reach the edge of the universe.
  • You will come to stand in front of her just like before,
  • and kiss her, and share your sorrows.
  • Good night, young man, see you on the screen tomorrow, when
  • Truman Burbank will be fleeing his beloved hometown,
  • and breaking free is the most difficult barrier.

  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via WeChat (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊): https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/nFkuptl8XO2hxBSzvtM1iA


晚安,少年

  • 丁鹏


  • 城市之光,透过手机向你低语
  • 你失眠,因为你是一截导体
  • 电流伴随你的指尖溅起细浪
  • 指尖滑动,刷屏的二手真相
  • 眨动睫毛,像一棵春天的稗草
  • 像你在游戏中死去,又复活
  • 晚安,少年。夜的电压平稳
  • 躺回床上,手机放到座充上
  • 摄像头在凝视你,你阖上眼睑
  • 当心跳撞击地球,你飞起来
  • 穿过星云,抵达宇宙的边缘
  • 站到她的面前,像过去一样
  • 你亲吻她,和她分享你的悲伤
  • 晚安,少年。明天的屏幕里
  • 楚门会逃出他所热爱的城市
  • 你也会打通最难的一道关卡




AFTER MID-AUTUMN, SITTING ALONE ON A BARREN HILL

  • Dong Li

  • Old Heaven has a long, drawn-out face,
  • someone must owe him 800,000 in cash plus interest.
  • The hills are overflowing with little wild daisies,
  • but not a single one of them knows
  • why the sun flowers were all executed in autumn.
  • Midway in the sky, sparrow hawks screech.
  • Are they looking for mates
  • or hunting for food?
  • I sit on the hilltop, alone,
  • not thinking about my tumbledown village.
  • The farmers are harvesting at foothill,
  • looking neither happy or sad.
  • Singing comes from a distance; it’s the sound of a marriage,
  • the same music as a funeral,
  • as if alluding to a maxim:
  • There's nothing new under the sun.

  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via WeChat (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊): https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/n_J_HE-LJiPoX19PWA0zLQ


中秋后,荒山独坐

  • 东篱

  • 老天把脸拉拉到
  • 谁欠他八百吊的长度
  • 漫山的小野菊不明白
  • 为什么向日葵
  • 会被秋决
  • 半空中的鹞子鸣叫着
  • 是找寻配偶
  • 还是觅猎食物?
  • 我独坐山顶
  • 不是思忖破败的乡村
  • 山脚下的农民在收获
  • 不喜也不悲
  • 远处婚庆的歌声
  • 与白事并无二致
  • 仿佛一句箴言
  • 亘古如斯



RUSTED LOVE

  • By Gu Baokai

  • A ceaseless drizzle falls on winter's wharf,
  • and falls on life's journeys, too.
  • I tried to call out your name but swallowed it.
  • I dare not touch those things that taper to a pointed end,
  • the heads of weed, the bristles of barley, a flimsy light.
  • I see a tree that summons a lifetime of strength just to
  • heal its wounds.
  • That day the earth was split asunder by a thunderstorm,
  • and things hidden in the dark suddenly became clear.

  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via WeChat (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊): https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/5wneVY40LDVfMnxHJqUDOg


爱情是一件生锈的铁器

  • 顾宝凯


  • 一场绵密的细雨下在冬天的码头
  • 也下在一生的旅途中
  • 我尝试叫出你的名字又咽了回去
  • 我不敢去触碰过于尖锐的事物
  • 草尖,麦芒,微弱的光
  • 我看见一棵树用尽一生的力气
  • 修复自己的伤口
  • 那天的雷雨,劈开了大地
  • 隐藏在黑暗中的事物那么清晰




LET ME DISAPPEAR

  • Hai Nan

  • Let me disappear, like how it happens in storybooks,
  • reading, skimming pages, in forgetfulness
  • granted a gloomy night. I'm tired.
  • The inland route will lead me onshore to my
  • next life. I savor the autumn scenery slowly rising over the horizon.
  • Only after trekking far in the mud, I see
  • those women wearing silver ornaments across their chests.
  • Among them, some have already grown old.
  • The younger ones haven’t known the art of harvesting wheat.
  • Drawers, earlobes, hidden weapons, a downpour of rain.
  • The divide between men and women over generations
  • led to territories separated by earth and water.
  • The cooling autumn reminds me of porcelain
  • and the cold virgin forests.
  • I want to sob in your arms.
  • A hard autumn wind blows…

  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via WeChat (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊): https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/bVTZ5h7JxDvOGUSh8LnIGw


我愿意就此隐形

  • 海男

  • 我愿意,就此隐形,像那些书中的故事
  • 只在阅读、翻拂、忘却中
  • 获得幽暗的一夜。我累了
  • 那些从内陆上岸的路, 通往我的
  • 来世。我咀嚼着这渐渐上升中的秋色
  • 泥洼中我走了很远,才看到了
  • 胸前佩带银器的妇女生活
  • 她们中的部分人已老去
  • 更年轻的一代人已经失去了割麦子的手艺
  • 抽屉、耳垂、暗器中滑过一阵雨声
  • 男人、女人世世代代划分了性别之后
  • 才开始了以泥土和水为界
  • 秋天的冷,使我想起瓷器
  • 想起冰凉的原始森林。我愿意在你怀抱呼啸
  • 秋风猛烈的揺晃……



POET LI PO PASSING THROUGH HUISHAN*

  • By Hong Zhu

  • A lotus flower looks back, it sees a dragonfly.
  • A butterfly looks back, it sees Liangzhu**.
  • A Tang poem does the same, it sees poet Li Po,
  • who once looked over his shoulder, too.
  • Could he have seen me? I am one of Li Po’s other poems.
  • When a dream turns around, it’s time to wake up.
  • When a river turns around, time returns to the past.
  • When a road turns around and around,
  • it becomes a winding mountain road.
  • Can a mountain also turn around? How much effort would it take?
  • “Hui” means to go back, the same in Huishan and in Huijia
  • —to go back to the mountain or to go home.
  • If a mountain wants to go home, it will turn around.
  • But why am I here, in a town with a name like "Go-Back Mountain?"
  • All I want is to have a drink where Li Po once looked back.
  • There is a universe in the glass as well as time bygone.
  • The vintage wine that Li Po got drunk on, let me see, what’s its name?
  • Is this a rhetorical question? Everyone knows it’s called Homesickness.

  • Notes:
  • * Huishan (literally translated into Go-Back Mountain) is in Zhejiang province
  • ** Liangzhu: The Butterfly lovers, tragic love story of a pair of lovers Liang Shanbo and Zhu Yingtai. One possible rendering of the second line: "Liang Shanbo looked back and saw his Zhu Yingtai." "A butterfly looked back and saw another butterfly..."

  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via WeChat (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊): https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/QEh3g2tKINapicrhhVkKWA


李白路过的回山镇

  • 洪烛


  • 一朵荷花回头,看见了蜻蜓
  • 一只蝴蝶回头,看见了梁祝
  • 一首唐诗回头,看见了李白
  • 李白也在这里回过头
  • 啊是否能看见我?我是李白的外一首
  • 一个梦回头,就醒了
  • 一条河回头,意味着时光倒流
  • 一条路回头,一次又一次回头
  • 就变成盘山公路
  • 一座山也会回头吗?
  • 那得用多大的力气?
  • 回山的回,和回家的回
  • 是同一个回字。即使是一座山
  • 只要想家了,就会回头
  • 我来回山镇干什么?没别的意思
  • 只想在李白回头的地方,喝一杯酒
  • 酒里有乾坤,也有春秋
  • 这种把李白灌醉的老酒,名字叫什么?
  • 还用问吗?叫乡愁




AFTER THE RAIN, IT BEGINS TO CLEAR

  • Hu Cuinan

  • After the flood, the rain finally stopped.
  • The dead grass will grow again after the Spring thunder.

  • The fledglings are anxious to grow, a little faster, then a little more
  • “His feathers have grown, along with his courage to fly.”
  • Dandelions, blown to all directions. Ah, such a vagrant life they lead.
  • At my window, I enjoy the storm’s strumming!
  • In the vast open fields, a teenager knocks at a door,
  • an old man hides behind the window curtains, not sure what to do.

  • Horses gallop, kicking up grass and flowers.
  • All is as expected.
  • A tender needlegrass stands tall again in the mud.
  • The things I have gone through
  • are also blessed to wear a new cloak of forgiveness.

  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via WeChat (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊): https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/O-jnGKLyJeayp0M9FwYLtg


雨后初晴

  • 胡翠南

  • 大雨在洪水之后停止
  • 死过的草会在春雷后再次苏醒

  • 小人儿总是盼望长大,快一点,再快一点
  • “他的羽毛渐丰,刚好有飞的勇气”
  • 蒲公英啊
  • 风一吹就四处流浪
  • 我喜欢在窗前听大雨弹奏
  • 旷野中少年在敲门
  • 老人躲在窗帘后举棋不定

  • 腾空的马蹄溅起草茎花叶
  • 时光理当如此
  • 一株年轻的芨芨草在泥泞中再次起立
  • 我历经过的事物
  • 披上宽恕的新衣




THOUGHTS OF FEBRUARY

  • Jiang Shuting

  • February pales in comparison to the imperial canons and edicts.
  • It lacks the fire to rekindle a dead lamp deep in the mountain.
  • Without a word theemperor left the mountain for the bamboo grove to find his true self.
  • He bestows the kingdom to the fox, the fox to the badger, and the badger to the river, so the story goes.
  • But February is not March, we are not enticed to say flowery words as when Spring deepens.
  • Only small beads of light accompany those mending mottled garments while the east wind blows,
  • and young swallows under the hallway eaves remind people of a forgotten past.

  • February lacks zest, its waters are no match to a crow’s daring
  • and bright calls; only the orioles are intrigued by its infinite possibilities.
  • The thin frost lies low, the calligraphy continues to pile up, and the fallen petals are gone with last year’s poems,
  • songs become muddled like horse hooves splattering in the mud,
  • and the ancient road instigates unrest to remote villages.
  • The sky looks flat, lanterns hung from the cliff illuminate mountains faraway,
  • but make water nearby look darker.
  • Believe it or not, February looks forlorn, like an orphan eagle roaming barefoot.

  • February perplexes us, there’s the longing in the flute's melody,
  • a drifting leaf won’t let go of its desolate homeland,
  • and there is the pain etched by the truth in drunken words,
  • haunting like crickets and tides of time past.
  • The courtyard trapped our years, youth vanished under the roof.
  • My love’s Facebook page reads like a couplet in a dismal Spring, which echoes us,
  • unreachable are you at the unfathomable night,
  • your fears of myloneliness doubled by the chill.
  • Oh February.

  • The years pass, February brings uncertain news.
  • As I write, I guess the time you wake up,
  • the time of your return after the midnight hour.
  • Yearning to hear your footsteps as if longing for lush green,
  • eyes hurt in their long gaze from the hilltop. What drives you to exile?
  • Oh, February, you are heavy snow, but will in time be a peerless beauty.
  • Though dreams unfulfilled, I will be steadfast, reaching the unreachable. Let me sigh,
  • let me remember how water bends, how boulders make hollow sounds,
  • March will bring rain to earth, heaven will be kind.

  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via WWeChat (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊): https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/8AY_kVS_zwb19_VgwX1b_g


二月书

  • 江书廷

  • 二月平胸。不及皇家的制度、典章
  • 它的内涵点不燃锦绣山后的一盏枯灯
  • 无言的皇帝下山去了,在一棵青条上还原他真实的身份
  • 他把江山留给狐,狐留给獾,獾让给了流水的情节
  • 可是,二月不是三月,不是春深时的词浓情堪
  • 它只是星星点灯,东风补漏斑驳的缕衣,雏燕托出穿堂的旧问

  • 二月尝浅,它的流水不敌鸦声的浩瀚
  • 也不及它的清亮。无限的可能是一只流莺的猜测
  • 薄霜犹低,碑帖甚深,轻花拾不回去春的诗函
  • 马蹄踏溅着泥泞的歌谣,古道策反了疏淡的村庄
  • 天空简单,巉岩挂起的灯笼照亮了远山,却让近水更黑
  • 你无法相信,二月是赤脚行走的流浪的孤鹰

  • 二月是被折分的情怀,一半是长笛追赶的挂念
  • 像飘飞的叶,依然回望故土的苍茫
  • 一半是酒话钉入肉身的疼痛,牵扯出它年的蟋蟀与潮声
  • 井栏围攻了岁月。屋檐渡远了年华。
  • 爱人的脸书是减春的对联,两两相近
  • 我苦着你的三更的远,你渡着我的孤单的寒,二月啊

  • 年来年去,二月是踪影不定的消息
  • 指尖凝芳,推敲你的午夜的觉醒,凌晨的返回
  • 足音葱茏,碰伤山冈上的瞰望,鞭梢上的流放
  • 二月啊,你是我的身前的大雪,身后的惊鸿
  • 志向不酬,孤怀独运的坚守与辽阔。长空一叹
  • 我记取了水的弯腰、石的深喘,以及地长清明雨,天弄小乔船




LIMITATIONS

  • By Li Qi

  • So sad— to be deeply attracted to a place,
  • but with no way of getting near even though the heart is willing.
  • My face turns pale, lips turn purple, death awaits.
  • "What you have is a bout of altitude sickness."
  • Here I am, a wretched creature from the lowland.

  • A body weighed down by clumsiness
  • —a metaphor itself or a reminder that
  • heaven and earth are indeed grandiose,
  • unlike my deplorable state,
  • laboring to breathe as I lay dying.

  • These snow-capped mountains and lakes,
  • this is where nature’s soul resides,
  • with hidden power and magic to enchant and hypnotize,
  • but now, all of them are gradually taken away from me.
  • What was a lofty plateau earlier is now a wet chrysanthemum,
  • looking grimmer and grimmer, unfurling a steely chilliness.

  • A transient only, but I have visited and revisited this place,
  • still, all that I picked up were fragments of illumination,
  • and the constant reminder of my limitations.
  • This dizziness is giving away clues,
  • here let me give you one: better to desire in small proportions.

  • Look, the meadow sparkles with children playing with yaks,
  • a sign that everything fits together naturally.
  • A child running with open arms
  • can take off any time now, and he may turn into a cloud or a star.

  • In the distance, a herd of handsome gazelles
  • hear something, freeze as if in a trance before swiftly turning around.
  • Look at the beautiful outline of their skulls.
  • They pause before dashing off again.
  • Did something just enlighten them?
  • They look like fairies
  • floating gracefully through the air.

  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via WeChat (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊): https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/D66T23m5WRSeNLinbj95Jg


局 限

  • 作者:李琦


  • 真是悲哀,被深深吸引的地方
  • 我又一次力不从心
  • 面色苍白,嘴唇乌青
  • 几乎奄奄一息。“你这是高原反应”
  • 我这可怜的、来自低处的人

  • 肉身的尴尬和沉重
  • 本身已形成隐喻或者提醒
  • 天地大美,我却如此不堪
  • 连呼吸都开始困难,如弥留之际

  • 绝美的雪山和湖水
  • 大自然最为幽微神奇的地方
  • 那些魂魄之处,必有玄妙和暗藏的机密
  • 而此刻,这一切正逐渐对我关闭
  • 高原,这个词是泡开的雪菊
  • 颜色渐深,缓慢散发着清冽的凉意

  • 我是过客,即便来过数次
  • 也只能是拾取领悟的碎屑
  • 更为懂得,什么是局限
  • 有些暗示,竟是从晕眩中获得
  • 比如,什么叫作——适可而止

  • 你看,那和牦牛在草地上玩耍的孩子
  • 简直金光闪闪!那是默契的光芒
  • 那个孩子,他张着两臂奔跑
  • 随时都会飞起来,变成云朵或者星宿

  • 远处,一群矫健的小羚羊
  • 听到动静,忽然怔住,蓦然转身
  • 头颅的轮廓,那么优美
  • 停顿一秒,而后,它们似有所悟
  • 继续奔跑,轻盈的身姿
  • 飘逸如幻觉



AT THE OUTER EDGE

  • Li Qingsong

  • I'm determined to stay here at the margins, on the outer edges,
  • wandering off the mainstream, thrown into uncertainty,
  • in exile like the restless clouds
  • that have retreated from the sky, paths and fields.
  • All that remain are ruins, weathered landscape, and deserted mines.
  • Boundless silence in the wilderness,
  • through the dying sun the hawk's watchful eyes.

  • The first snow can’t rein in the adolescent or the cubs.
  • Their tender looks float out of the mountain pass.
  • Snowflakes twinkle on their eyelashes, warm blood raging and flowing.
  • Even the overnight blizzard will find its home ground.
  • On their animated faces, each permanent tooth will have its day to take place.

  • Some things are buried, so are names,
  • until they reveal their original essence.
  • An air so clear and unique to land’s end
  • blows on me until I feel like an elf or sprite!
  • I house a ferocious drive and a tender heart,
  • with milk replenished by winds and blizzards,
  • I nurture the beasts and the weaklings in me.

  • The eagles take the world to a new cliff,
  • the snow lotus raises me to a new height.
  • That untouchable place! I speak through a shaman—
  • There have been thirty-nine blizzards, I was reborn after each snow.


  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via WeChat (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊): https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/yhtHMtGHWgZbp9Mhj8eZVA


边地之边

  • 李轻松

  • 我执着于这边地之边,界限之限
  • 那偏离了主流的航道,那乱了的阵脚
  • 那些流亡的人、那些流云
  • 从天空、从小径、从稻田里溃退
  • 剩下的是山川遗址、矿里废墟
  • 一片旷野里的千里寂静
  • 一团残阳里的猛禽之眼

  • 原雪收不住少年与幼崽
  • 他们新鲜的模样,浮出脸庞的山口
  • 雪花扑闪着眼睫。一条河保鲜了血脉与血性
  • 让一夜的大风雪找到自己的宿主
  • 面孔生动,每一颗恒牙都有新的生辰

  • 一些事物埋了土,一些人埋了名
  • 都具有了原始的生存气质
  • 一种边地的透明空气——
  • 吹得我如妖似仙!
  • 我空有虎狼之心,流水之意
  • 我被风雪灌满的乳汁
  • 喂养那凶猛的野兽,也喂养那柔弱的动物

  • 山鹰提升了这世界的悬崖,雪莲提升了我的高度
  • 那孤绝之境!用通灵者的嘴唇说出——
  • 那三十九场大雪,将我生于每一场雪后……



FORMER RESIDENCE

  • Li Tianjing

  • Light doors along the passage of time—
  • lift a foot, you can easily stagger in.

  • Let a boy’s little hand
  • push open every hidden door along the passage.
  • A wooden horse comes to life!

  • As if the old garden has gone back
  • in time, the reflections on the water
  • are as fresh as today’s flowers.

  • But images are mirages,
  • and a stranger in a strange place
  • cannot be heard knocking at doors.

  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via WeChat (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊): https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/7TyDh9UdQGQbW3zH2cOxNQ


故 居

  • 李天靖

  • 时光很薄
  • 一抬脚 就能踉跄步入

  • 任童年的小手
  • 推开楼道所有的暗门
  • 木马复活———

  • 如电光燧石穿过
  • 儿时的庭院 镜面的倒影
  • 鲜花如斯

  • 映像如此脆弱
  • 像异乡客 终不能举起
  • 叩响门环的手




NORTHERN NARRATIVES

  • Li Yongcai

  • In deep autumn, up north,
  • wherever you go, to be alone,
  • there is a sense of returning home.
  • No matter which way the wind blows,
  • the water does not glitter as much as before.
  • Then the wind stops howling, and the fallen leaves fall silent,
  • piles of them, held in autumn's embrace.
  • They look like discarded banknotes
  • to witness the innocence of our world.

  • Hiding is one way to go.
  • But, if you hang out with those people on the road,
  • be ready to live by your wits and the biting cold.
  • In desolation, you will be the only one
  • to know it takes creativity
  • to return to simplicity and monotony.
  • Like a Phoenix hiding in the sky,
  • despite the alluring calls of the world,
  • there is no trace of it on Phoenix Mountain.

  • Mountains and rivers, the setting sun
  • over the persimmon trees, and persimmons
  • weave a traditional narrative.
  • The fine afternoon is receding, replaced by an empty
  • silent space. What draws me closer to it,
  • to merge with the fade-away ambiance,
  • is not the soft sadness of a persimmon,
  • but the bass guitar on the wall, leaning back.
  • Its posture resembles a pear almost,
  • strumming autumn.

  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via WeChat (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊): https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/6xdJCeV9vArVNSCeEVHWyw


北方叙事

  • 李永才

  • 在深秋的北方,你躲进哪里
  • 都有一种故园的感觉
  • 无论风怎样吹
  • 流水都没有从前那样的亮色
  • 风声过后,落叶沉默
  • 一堆又一堆,被秋天抱在怀里
  • 这些人间丢弃的纸币
  • 足以见证,万物的清白

  • 躲是一种姿态。混迹于江湖
  • 总会邂逅一些炎凉的事物
  • 而躲进荒芜
  • 谁也不知道,单调和乏味
  • 是你的一种创造
  • 就像一只凤凰,躲进了天空
  • 无论怎么引诱
  • 在凤凰岭,都寻不见它的踪影

  • 山河,柿子和柿子树上
  • 一枚没落的太阳
  • 构成了一种传统的叙事
  • 天朗风清的下午消逝。空荡的
  • 寂静中,陷入情景交融的
  • 不是一枚柿子美好的忧伤
  • 而是墙上的贝司,以斜躺的
  • 姿势,近乎一个梨儿,
  • 弹奏的这个秋天。




A MOUNTAIN OF PINE NEEDLES

  • By Li Yun

  • Squirrels and birds are probably experts at counting them,
  • counting them with ten fingers won’t be the way to go.
  • Too many pine needles to count.
  • Pine needles fly along nature's thread,
  • sewing the misty mountain scenery,
  • embroider a screen of resplendent brocade.
  • Heaven and earth in fine stitches.
  • Collect pine needles by hand
  • or rake them into a basket
  • and return home assured of fires.
  • They're much needed in an ordinary life.
  • Insert one needle deeply into a numb acupoint
  • to activate a passion,
  • to revive a kind of courage.
  • I am clueless to the change of pine needles.
  • I hear their silent falling
  • in a moonlit night, while I dream;
  • drizzle falls that way, rustles outside the window.
  • Glorious is the golden needle, but the wait is long,
  • and soon the mountain will be dense with old-growth pines,
  • Mt. Nanshan1, I beg you to invoke the pine needles with magic
  • to rise above my middle-aged muddles.

  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via WeChat (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊): https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/-7QXVs8DidRNFzYj-gcyog


松针无数

  • 李云

  • 松鼠和鸟可能会数得清楚
  • 用十指肯定是数不过来
  • 松针无数
  • 飞针走线
  • 缝补山色溟濛
  • 绣出一屏锦绣
  • 天地间 细针密缕
  • 拾一枚松针在手
  • 或用竹扒搂集入筐
  • 回家盛火
  • 庸常的生活需要松针
  • 深扎麻木的穴位
  • 激活一种激情
  • 生存一种勇气
  • 松针何时在悄悄地生长我不知道
  • 松针无声的落我会听见
  • 月夜梦里
  • 牛毛细雨般地下窸窣窗外
  • 所谓金针度人
  • 我不会等到
  • 望满山苍松如盖似伞
  • 南山 恳请让松针度我
  • 走出焦虑的中年困境



THE LAMP

  • By Li Zhiyong

  • The flame is similar to a mountain, whose precipice is also blue.
  • Perhaps snow and boulders sit on the ridge of the mountain, reflecting light.
  • Someone may even be standing on it, looking at the edge of the sky.
  • The sun continues to rise and dip, dip and rise.

  • The lamp seems to be there specifically to forge something.
  • A stove, in the middle of the night, a silhouette busy by its side.
  • An excavator, a refugee, a writer, each huddles by the lamp.
  • It burns for their imaginings until the break of dawn.

  • The lamp carries the weight of its light, standing quietly on the table.
  • Every drop of oil takes part in fueling the flame.
  • When all is used up, things will take on a different look,
  • but it will be recognizable with the help of the lamp.

  • Because of the lamp, things cast shadows on the wall, even the lamp itself
  • casts a shadow. There is light,
  • therefore lamp walks out of the room, finding its way to the mountaintop.
  • It also finds its way to the sea.
  • As it glows, it hopes that the sea will dry up,
  • it hopes that the water will stay calm and stay cold.

  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via WeChat (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊): https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/Q1OrvaQsdlm7Xg5geHxUBQ


  • 作者:李志勇

  • 灯焰就像山峦,顶峰处也是蓝色的。在那山脊上
  • 也许也有积雪,有一些岩石,散发着光芒
  • 在那山脊上可能也有人站着,远眺着天空的边际
  • 太阳还在很远的地方升起落下,落下升起

  • 灯更像是专门为了锻造什么而生起的
  • 炉火,深夜中,一个身影一直在它旁边忙碌着
  • 挖掘的人、逃生的人、写作的人,都在灯边
  • 灯能为所有幻想燃烧到天亮

  • 灯担负着自己光的重量,静立在桌上
  • 在灯焰中,几乎所有的油都燃烧着
  • 当它耗尽,一切也许就会呈现另外一种面目
  • 但那,仍然还得通过灯来辨认

  • 通过灯,事物把影子留在墙上,甚至灯自身
  • 都会有一道影子,因为光的存在
  • 灯走出屋子。灯上到高山之巅。灯来到了海上
  • 闪耀着,也渴望大海枯去,渴望着水的宁静和冰凉



The Eagle

  • By Liang Jilin

  • In the sky over Alxa League on the Mongolian plateau, an eagle flies,
  • carrying on its wings an enormous amount of silence.
  • It circles, it dives, it tilts,
  • suddenly it lets out a screech,

  • as focused as when we miss someone,
  • as penetrating as our sorrows,
  • as willful as when we reject the world.

  • A double-humped camel walks out from the desert,
  • head high, aloof, on a mission to convey my coolness,
  • looking at the eagle,
  • looking at the grain of relic buried in the sun.

  • Tell them, Baghatur, or the herder called Buren Menghe,
  • what is it that I like—

  • from the Left Banner to the Right Banner,
  • with five hundred plus kilometers in between,
  • there's the one as fiery as some sixty-eight-proof spirits—
  • a flower, in red,
  • a red flower.

  • The eagle takes after the sun, the sun,
  • an eagle.

  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via WeChat (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊): https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/Ln73gMKyUey07y828pSi6g


  • 梁积林

  • 阿拉善盟,蒙古高原的上空
  • 一只鹰的翅膀上究竟能驮动多大的寂静
  • 它盘旋,它俯冲,它踅乎
  • 突然就唳了一声

  • 一个人的思念也不过如此
  • 一个人的伤心也不过如此
  • 一个人的遁世也不过如此一匹走出沙漠的双峰驼

  • 昂首,孤傲,挟带着我身体里的冷峻
  • 看鹰
  • 看一粒太阳的舍利

  • 巴特尔,或者就是那个叫布仁孟和的牧人
  • 我喜欢什么来着——

  • 从左旗到右旗
  • 五百多公里的距离
  • 就是那个有六十八度酒一样烈的人名字
  • 琪琪格,红
  • 红琪琪格

  • 鹰像太阳,太阳
  • 像鹰。



MATTERS OF REGRET

  • Ling Lan

  • Too bad, Ah, Sei Shōnagon
  • wrote about four seasons’ delights1,
  • but she certainly didn't see
  • the midnight summer rain, or the twilight
  • that raises the face of every tear-filled rose;
  • on a low wall, the cuckoos’ impatient calling.

  • She also didn't see that person, in dim light,
  • wrote out a name repeatedly on a notepaper,
  • like a moth drawn to a flame.

  • When I hear the cuckoos call
  • and know the barn is empty,
  • only a few pellets of popped wheat left in my hand.
  • This season burns like fire.
  • An even-tempered bookish man engrossed a dictionary.
  • In the open field musk thistle and red thatch grass are blooming,
  • seed staking shape.

  • Note:
  • 1. The Pillow Book2 gave examples of season's delight: Spring daybreaks; Moonlit summer nights, or dark nights with dancing fireflies; Fall, sunset clouds towards the evening and red maples; Winter days, early dusk.
  • 2. An essay collection written and completed in 1002 CE by Japanese poet and essayist Sei Shōnagon.

  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via WeChat (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊): https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/n3SNCmrQ47J7qYojhV5xaQ


憾 事

  • 铃兰

  • 多遗憾呀,写下四时之趣①的
  • 清少纳言肯定没见过
  • 夏日夜半落雨,清晨旭日升,那光芒
  • 恰恰好托起一朵朵含泪的蔷薇
  • 矮墙上布谷鸟叫声急促

  • 你也没见过灰暗的灯光里,便笺上
  • 重复了无数遍的名字
  • 像飞蛾扑向灯火

  • 当我听到布谷鸟叫时
  • 粮仓空空
  • 手心里只有几粒炒熟的麦子
  • 时令如火烧。
  • 好脾气的书生在读词典
  • 田野里飞廉和红茅草开花,正在结籽

  • 注①:《枕草子》写四时之趣,是指春天破
  • 晓,夏日月夜或暗夜流萤飞舞,秋天傍晚晚霞
  • 红枫,冬日早晨。



SNIPPETS FROM THE FACTORY FLOOR

  • Liu Jian

  • Those drab, dull dummies of metal hide their sheen on the factory platform.
  • Layer upon layer, what comes to light is not their hardness,
  • but, in fact, inner weakness and softness.
  • Cast. Cut. File. Grind. There will be an end to all the work somewhere.
  • A well-calibrated blueprint does not indulge,
  • expressionless and raising no voices,
  • more like god’s hand of restraint and sobriety.
  • The hustle and bustle of rush orders. Inspections meticulous.
  • Invoices neatly stacked in order.
  • I don’t know where these products are going,
  • like myself, my destiny is unclear. I can see:
  • us and them, both are gleaming with beads of sweat,
  • the same kind of shine.


  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via WeChat (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊): https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/Axiw4gftnfYAB6Xsi5zDwQ


工厂片段

  • 刘 建

  • 那些愚钝、木讷的金属,在加工台前
  • 敛起它的锋芒。渐次呈现的不是生硬
  • 而是内心的懦弱和柔软
  • 铣。削。锉。磨。一定有个结局等待在某个地方
  • 胸有成竹的图纸置身事外,不动声色
  • 有着上帝的矜持和冷静
  • 计划单手忙脚乱。检验单一丝不苟。发货单按部就班
  • 我不知道那些打包发出的成品工件的去向
  • 就像我不清楚自己的命运。我看见:
  • 我们和它们都闪耀着汗珠一样的光泽




IN THE FLOATING WORLD

  • By Lu Shan

  • It's great to be in the sun again, basking on the balcony in winter.
  • I'm drying my wife's sweater. The night's wind sways her shadow,
  • I feel like I have tasted the sweet life once again.
  • I just graduated from a sanatorium
  • with a PhD on the ways of the floating world.

  • First winter tidings, the snow is not far away. Maladies led
  • to a traffic accident with sleet everywhere.
  • The breeze kicks up dust at day’s end,
  • the evening trees close in on themselves.
  • A pot of baby daisies sit next to my medical chart,
  • like an alluring traditional doctor in her prime.

  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via WeChat (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊): https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/KHE1s3ROzuvmFi9D2L1p4A


在尘世

  • 卢 山

  • 再次沐浴到阳光真好,冬日的阳台上
  • 晾晒着妻子的毛衣。晚风摇曳着她的影子
  • 我仿佛重新品尝了活着的味道。
  • 我刚刚从疾病的修道院里毕业,
  • 拿到了一张关于人情世故的哲学学位证。

  • 大雪不远,立冬为证。疾病制造了
  • 一场泥泞的交通事故。
  • 晚风扬起一日的浮尘,树木从黄昏里折回藤蔓。
  • 我的病历本旁边端坐着一盆雏菊,
  • 俨然一位风华正茂的年轻中医。




ALL THE GRAINS GATHER

  • Lu You

  • —Written on the Eve of The "Laba" Festival*

  • On this day all the grains gather
  • in a pot. Mother lines them up together
  • like us seven little siblings in your younger days
  • on a little heated brick bed, seven china dolls from one kiln,
  • faces chapped, mama bathed us one by one until clean,
  • just like she washes the grains. This is the day
  • they reunite across four cold and warm seasons,
  • in one boiling pot minus the black beans.

  • No black beans this harvest, we planted other crops for younger brother;
  • he can’t come home, like last year.

  • Notes
  • *The Laba Festival is celebrated on the 8th day of the 12th lunar month, when rice gruel or congee is eaten. The Festival is also called The End of the Year Offering of Meat Festival, a name which has its origins in hunting game that was cooked as sacrificial meat and then served at a family or communal gathering.


  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via WeChat (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊): https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/xZLXxCSHkGqwmiXxLprX0g


所有的五谷都在这一天集合

  • 吕 游

  • ——写在腊八节前夜

  • 所有的五谷都在这一天集合
  • 在锅里,母亲把它们放在一起
  • 像小时候,把我们姐弟七个
  • 放在小小的炕上,七个出窑的瓷器
  • 脸皴着,妈妈一个个洗干净
  • 像洗这些五谷杂粮,只有这一天
  • 四季是团聚的,冷和暖
  • 在一个锅里沸腾,只是少了黑豆

  • 弟弟代替黑豆种在地里
  • 今年,还是不能回家




DAISY IN SPRINGTIME

  • By Mowo Er

  • Who knows if the Milky Way has seasons
  • and their stars tend to stray off in the spring
  • to cascade on Earth.
  • Is that why she encounters a small cosmic force
  • when catching Line 10
  • at Chastity Gate Tube Station^?
  • Holding a bunch of daisies she just bought,
  • next to a friend who has the flashier peonies,
  • side by side they stand on the escalator.
  • Side by side too when they were school girls
  • some twenty years ago.
  • Their bicycles gently glided over the horizon
  • as wildflowers spread around their wide skirts.
  • Nothing captured their heart like Italy then,
  • a web radiating out from the Mediterranean Sea,
  • but now, Lancôme is on the billboard,
  • a pair of red lips—oh, what curvature, how irresistible—
  • as if urging her to break away from old bondages.
  • Of course, the names Daisy, Aster, or Marguerite de Valois
  • evoke more than the names of the seasons.
  • At the tube station,
  • their newly awakened bodies
  • wait for the carriages to come to a stop.
  • Maybe this time the right door will open,
  • and unlock a secret world for them.

  • Note: ^Anzhenmen Tube Station

  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via WeChat (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊): https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/bC5fyrddjNlrgGHweKcBeA


雏 菊

  • 作者:莫卧儿


  • 银河里的星星在春天
  • 时常因为决堤改道
  • 奔流到地球上来
  • 地铁十号线安贞门站口
  • 她遭遇了一场小规模瀑布
  • 怀抱刚买的雏菊
  • 和怀抱洋牡丹的女友
  • 肩并肩站在电梯上
  • 轻松倒带回二十年前
  • 高中生的单车
  • 摩擦着地平线的睫毛
  • 小野花雾气一般弥漫在大裙摆间
  • 再没有比意大利做经线
  • 地中海做纬线更诱惑的网了
  • 面前Lancome广告牌红唇的弧度微妙
  • 泄露是否需要挣脱网绳
  • 成为这个时代的悬念
  • 而春菊、延命菊、玛格丽特之花
  • 这些孪生名片听起来
  • 比季节更有说服力
  • 地铁站里的她们
  • 有着刚刚觉醒的胴体
  • 只等一节呼啸而来的车厢
  • 插入锁孔,咔哒一声
  • 秘密机关洞开



THE RUMBLE OF THUNDER, METAPHORICALLY SPEAKING

  • By Nan Qiu

  • No sign of heavy rain despite the incessant rumble of thunder.
  • A premonition that I better heed.
  • At least I should be fully attentive
  • to analyzing the source.

  • A lot like someone crying a long cry but there are no tears.
  • A lot like a long rehearsal without saying a line on stage.
  • A lot like a mansion with open doors but no one comes and goes.
  • A lot like a Taoist monk reciting incantations
  • but no relatives are present.
  • A lot like a protagonist in an epic novel who has yet to appear.

  • Perhaps this world is an illusion,
  • only the rumble of thunder is real.
  • It strikes a contrary note
  • that thunder rumbles high and far but is incapable of human pathos.
  • Perhaps thunder struggles to communicate,
  • and we are far too preoccupied with other things.

  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via WeChat (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊) : https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/0LqSaStMngwlZDtuFpg35Q


雷声,或者语意

  • 作者:南秋

  • 这么长久的雷声却不见大雨落下
  • 我必须引以为戒了
  • 至少,我必须认真地倾听
  • 剖析它们的来路

  • 这多么像长嚎之人却不见眼泪落下
  • 这多么像蓄势已久的朗诵却不见一句台词
  • 这多么像一座大房子敞开着却不见一人出入
  • 这多么像道士忘我地念念有词地做法事
  • 却不见一名至亲在场
  • 这多么像长篇巨著中未有一个主角现身

  • 或许,这世界只是个虚拟
  • 只有雷声是真实的
  • 或许,恰恰相反
  • 雷声虽然通天,却未必通晓人间
  • 或许,雷声言不达意
  • 我们已经入木三分



MY LOVE AND HATE RELATIONSHIP WITH MT. QINLING

  • By Nan Shutang

  • The reason why I hated it
  • was because it blocked my view, pretending
  • to be the end of the world. Still, it served
  • as a prison where I jailed people and things
  • that I loved to hate but dared not hate.
  • I took it all out on Mt.Qinling,
  • so when I hated you, and you, once, twice, and thrice,
  • I piled my hatred mountain high;
  • surely one of Qinling’s peaks was my work.
  • Hear the rainless thunder from the mountain,
  • hear its echoes spreading hatred.

  • But I loved it, too, though knew not how to say it
  • the way birds sang their praises
  • or peach blossoms showed their ardent love.
  • The craggy headstone and hardy grass
  • around my father’s grave spoke for my constant love,
  • which I simply wrote down as a list of words
  • and arranged them based on a secret formula,
  • just like a pharmacist writing out a prescription,
  • then fed them to the spring breeze and autumn wind.
  • The peak of the mountain is said to grow at a rate of two millimeters per year.
  • Does that growth partly come from the power of my love?

  • Nowadays I am more nonchalant,
  • very little love or hatred involved,
  • and the mountain seems to treat me just the same way,
  • listening to me calmly
  • without a trace of joy or sadness.
  • Now I can sit down with it snugly
  • and strike up a conversation.
  • If my past love and hatred could be returned to me,
  • I will use that love to backfill the cavities
  • undermined by hatred, so that we will see,
  • between the steep cliff faces and deep trenches,
  • some gentler landforms worthy of our trust.

  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via WeChat (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊): https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/xX1G805GeHDPAR8mpFHyUg


爱恨秦岭

  • 南书堂

  • 恨它的理由,是它一直
  • 阻挡我的视野,充当着
  • 世界的尽头。可它又像为我的恨
  • 专设了一个衙门,让我把
  • 想恨不敢恨的人和事
  • 冲着它,恨上一回,再恨上一回
  • 这样一推算,它的某个山峰
  • 肯定由我的恨堆积而成
  • 从山顶偶尔传来的闷雷
  • 仿佛这些恨的回声

  • 爱它,却无言表达
  • 因而鸟鸣和桃花
  • 抢先说出了鲜丽的部分
  • 长着白牙的巨石和父亲坟头的小草
  • 代言了执著的部分
  • 我只需药师一样,把一些词语
  • 按秘密的剂量,写在
  • 春风或者秋风的处方笺上
  • 据说,它的主峰,还在以每年
  • 两厘米的速度往高里长
  • 是不是其中也包含了我爱的力量

  • 现在,我对它更多的是
  • 不爱不恨,就像它
  • 始终都在平静地倾听
  • 而不显露悲喜
  • 现在,我已是可以与它坐下来
  • 促膝相谈的人,如果它能
  • 把我曾经的爱恨还给我
  • 我就会用那些爱去填补恨
  • 砸出的深谷,使人生看起来
  • 像这崇山峻岭间,确有
  • 一个个值得信任的平缓地带




A HEART SWIMMING IN SOLITUDE

  • By Sea of July

  • A drowned man returned from the night
  • to touch her fingers, to teach her to play
  • the river that was not there.

  • Eyes float in the dark,
  • and the heart swims in solitude.
  • She wants to cry for the water’s sorrows,
  • and laugh for its happiness.

  • “I can no longer keep up
  • with the white goddess, let me submit to my own magic.”
  • A voice digs deep into her.

  • She takes his place and looks out the window
  • where the moon rises, plain-looking like a white dot.
  • The river’s waves are meaningless, too, hardly a eulogy.

  • All night she could not leave the dark spell,
  • but she loves the water’s lacework
  • far more than the snake deep in the river.

  • —How beautiful and quiet it is!
  • When she was cast ashore like a big fish,
  • she continues to search for the mysterious water.

  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via WeChat (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊): https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/v1N0mt4Jv1PwBk7qOQOlmQ


一颗心在孤独里游泳

  • 作者:七月的海


  • 溺死的人从黑夜中返回
  • 又一次牵动她的手指,去弹奏
  • 那条乌有的河流

  • 一个人的眼睛
  • 在黑夜里浮动,一颗心在孤独里游泳
  • 她想替水哭,替水笑

  • “我再也无法追上
  • 那白色的神像了,我只能屈从于自身的魔力”
  • 一个声音洞穿了她

  • 她替他忧伤地看着窗外
  • 而此刻,月亮只是一个白点
  • 浪花更是无用的悼词

  • 整个夜晚,她都在魔障里转圈
  • 但她爱锯齿状的花边
  • 胜过那条藏于水底的蛇

  • ——多么寂静而美好啊
  • 当她突然像一条大鱼
  • 被抛到岸上,她还在寻找那些秘密的水




MARRIAGE

  • By Song Qiyuan

  • Crags everywhere, as if in a dream.
  • You hop between crags (or something like crags), into the light.
  • The light shows a cliff’s silhouette but not its depth.
  • With each jump, you rise from the valley,
  • and continue to jump, changing postures, here and there.
  • Although it can be very frightening, just like the night
  • when you lost your virginity, but no one dies from it.
  • In the real world, it doesn’t work that way—
  • you would be trembling with fear to jump down a floor.
  • Vertigo is very real to us small creatures. Some didn’t believe it and jumped off the bridge,
  • off a tree, or off a roof and died, I feel sorry for these deaths. So sad.
  • It is pointless to compare dreams to reality. In dream things do not have dimensions,
  • still it may be necessary to discuss what a foot is, or three feet, or six feet.
  • Relatively speaking, I prefer unattached objects. You have sorrows, so do I.
  • Sadness can suddenly appear, just like happiness
  • can suddenly enter a pure waking world. Early morning in November,
  • the most significant crags are those in my inner world;
  • they rise straight up, fragrant. Now, we sit together,
  • but don’t talk much. We are crag hoppers in the eyes of wild beasts.

  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via WeChat (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊): https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/p5_9dTR96iNGFCZJL72isA


婚 姻

  • 宋憩园

  • 像梦里,悬崖到处都是。
  • 你不断跳悬崖(或类似悬崖),跳入光亮。
  • 它有轮廓,因为亮着,不能确定其深度。
  • 每次跳完,你又从里面升上来
  • 继续跳,变换姿势跳。跳过来跳过去,
  • 死不了,跳崖的恐惧明显如初夜。
  • 现实中,你不该这样操作,即便二楼,你都颤抖
  • 如某种临危的小动物。有人不信,在桥上,在楼顶
  • 在树上,跳下去,死了,我为这些死难过。那么难过。
  • 比较梦境和现实是没意义的。它们没尺寸,可是
  • 谈论一尺、三尺、六尺却是有必要的。
  • 相较而言,我喜欢游离之物。你有忧伤,我也有。
  • 忧伤突然显现,像感到幸福那样
  • 进入醒着的洁白。在十一月初的清晨,我感受最多的
  • 是内心的悬崖。陡峭而且芬芳。现在,我们坐在这里。
  • 并不多话。在野兽的眼里跳过来跳过去。



SPEAKING OF COCONUT TREES

  • Sun Wenbo

  • …Coconuts, they don’t fall and smash people’s skulls.
  • But with the wind they will roll as fast as a football.
  • The sea is the home they return to.
  • Floating in the ocean, they still behave like a football;
  • the waves kick them, as if the ocean has sent out
  • who-knows-what ghosts to defend its amazing gates.
  • —One may ask, Isn’t this some fantasy?
  • Of course it is—but not without the facts.
  • It comes from folk tales.
  • My reliable source says that no one was ever smashed by a coconut.
  • I am not even slightly worried when walking in a coconut grove and
  • watching the coconuts suspended from the treetops.
  • On the contrary, it’s marvelous the way they rise up entangled
  • in unique shapes—truly too unique —even unique for trees
  • in their appearances; a ring above a ring around the tree trunk shows its age.
  • Generally they are perfectly straight like natural flag poles. I like to
  • watch them sway left and right in a hurricane —like ballerinas—Pink Girl Trees.
  • Yang Xiaobin has a knack for giving these kinds of names. Corresponding to the giant tree we call Fir,
  • which we consider a masculine name—it’s settled then—don’t you agree
  • that it makes your heart tingle with tenderness—
  • though the sentiment is possibly an indulgence.
  • So be it, let us indulge. This is like after we drinkcoconut juice,
  • we still want to eat its thick sweet meat. That’s one way to put it, how endearing this is—
  • especially as the sun is setting west,
  • and you are sitting under the palm trees in a reclining chair,
  • facing the ocean—no blossoms around,
  • but my heart is still filled with the sweet fragrance of my courtyard.
  • Notes:
  • *Yang Xiaobin, poet, author, Professor Yang Xiaobin , born Shanghai,1963, teaches Chinese linguistics in the United States.

  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via WeChat (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊): https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/50CH7k8yow8QeQ-NdtPwkA


椰树叙

  • 孙文波

  • ……椰子,不会落下砸中人的头颅。
  • 它只在风中滚动,迅疾像一只足球。
  • 归宿是大海。在大海中它仍然像一只足球,
  • 由波涛踢着,仿佛大海中有一扇不知
  • 什么鬼守护的大门——请问,这是不是虚构。
  • 当然是——并非没有事实基础。
  • 它来自民间传说。我的确没有听说过有人
  • 被椰子砸中。它使我无论什么时候
  • 走在椰林中看到悬挂树梢的椰子,一点不担心。
  • 反而好奇,它们纠结一起
  • 形状的独特——的确太独特了——独特的还有作为
  • 树的形状;一圈一圈树干说明年轮。
  • 主要是它笔直,犹如自然的旗帜。我喜欢
  • 看到它在飓风中左右摇晃柔韧如芭蕾——女粉子树。
  • 杨小滨会这样命名。对应被命名为男树的巨杉
  • ——就这样定了——难道,
  • 还不让人内心生出柔情——虽然可能是柔情滥用。
  • 滥用就滥用。这一点,就像我们喝了椰子水,
  • 还要吃椰子肉。甜密,可以这样形容——
  • 尤其是在夕阳西下时分,椰树下放一张躺椅,
  • 面朝大海——花不开,我的内心仍满庭芳。




ZHANG XIAOJING’S AUTUMN

  • By Tian Fa

  • A busy time for Zhang Xiaojing in the autumn.
  • Even before her crowfeet can relax,
  • she has to be in the field for the day’s work.
  • The grapes are ripe. As her husband,
  • I can only afford to come home now and then.
  • Therefore when my neighbors see me, they are all smiles:
  • “you are here to lend a hand.”
  • It seems as if Autumn is hers only,
  • and dreamlike I have been left out.
  • For Zhang Xiaojing, Autumn is here,
  • and I'm more like one of her hired hands.

  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via WeChat (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊): https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/3m9aPRoFEleae4ENVWqabg

张晓静的秋天

  • 作者:田 法

  • 张晓静的秋天是忙碌的
  • 连眼角的鱼尾纹
  • 也顾不上舒展
  • 就要去地里干活
  • 葡萄熟了。而作为她的男人
  • 我只是隔三差五才能回来一趟
  • 以至邻居见了我,都笑着说
  • 回来帮忙来了
  • 仿佛,秋天只是她一个人的
  • 潜意识已把我
  • 忽略。张晓静的秋天
  • 我更像她的一个雇工



OLD THINGS

  • By Wang Erdong

  • All have become relics since you’re gone.
  • Some clothes were never worn, now reduced to ashes.
  • Food not eaten was offered to ancestors with incense.
  • Your new grave sits on the old earth
  • where you used to kneel and refuse to leave.
  • It’s your bed now.
  • You may be waiting for reincarnation,
  • but I don’t believe in meeting in the afterlife.
  • In any case we won’t recognize each other.
  • You have become a relic of eternity.
  • The wind will blow away the dust collected on the window sills
  • while you stood there dreaming of liberty.
  • The window frames were painted red over and over,
  • but peeling will accelerate with time.
  • After you left, I have decided
  • not to love love’s past.

  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via WeChat (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊): https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/GM5HXxrgwZsxHME-TJHYBg


旧 物

  • 王二冬

  • 你走之后,所有事物都成了旧的
  • 没穿的新衣,一把火就成了灰烬
  • 没咽的饭菜,一炷香就成了祭品
  • 就连新坟上的土也是旧的
  • 这一次,你终于躺在了年轻时
  • 长跪不起的地方,等待来世
  • 来世,你或许会再次成为新的
  • 我是等不到了,就算再见
  • 我们也不会相识。在我的生命中
  • 你是旧的永恒,吹过窗台的风
  • 也会蒙上你渴望自由的灰尘
  • 旧的窗棂,红漆刷得越多
  • 时光脱落得越快,你走之后
  • 我决定,爱过的就不再去爱了



PERSIAN SILK FLOWERS

  • XiaoXi

  • Opening the windows, vistas of silk trees abound.
  • Mostly pink flowers, only one tree yields yellow blossoms.
  • Under the tree a girl stands in her white skirt,
  • looking all the more striking.

  • Each breath a sweetness,
  • bestowed with a greater gift of imagination,
  • I walk up and embrace its waist. Its hand points into the distance—
  • Floating on the surface of the ocean a tiny hill,
  • with a daub of blue-green,
  • It commands a large sweep of the ocean's depths.

  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via WeChat (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊): https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/rH4hfAVJx6Hoioq2MrU8aA


合 欢

  • 小 西

  • 打开窗,都是合欢。
  • 粉色的花居多,米黄色的只有一树
  • 穿白裙子的女孩站在树下格外醒目。

  • 每个人的呼吸,都被甜美
  • 赋予更多的想象。
  • 我走过去抱住它的腰,它的手正指向远处——
  • 浮在海面上的是座极小的山
  • 但一抹青翠
  • 仍压住了大片不安的深蓝




LESSER HEAT*

  • By Yang Zi

  • Under northern trees, there is still the trace of a cool breeze.
  • An eagle spreads its wings and circles.
  • The haystacks are all gone, leaving a few sparrows behind.
  • The garlic patch is brimming with little white flowers.

  • In the straw cage, crickets are chirping loud and bright.
  • A yellow dog lies at the doorway, tongue flexed, panting
  • The ox chews its cud, sparrows occasionally heard chirping in the fruit trees.
  • Magpies fly over the courtyard wall. The clouds seem to stir without moving.

  • Sitting on a step under the eaves in my small family courtyard,
  • I feel, at last, level like a vat of water, an indescribable feeling—
  • a cup of Pu'er tea, a bowl of noodles, a savory dish,
  • the scorching midday sun, a few simple words exchanged.

  • Note:
  • The lunar calendar divides a year into 24 climatological intervals; each interval is 15 days—from new moon to full moon or full moon to new moon. The interval of Lesser Heat is the eleventh interval of the year, starting on the new moon after Summer Solstice.

  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via WeChat (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊): https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/0Ekbf9oGd9_Kud8oUhpedg


小 暑

  • 杨 梓

  • 北方的树下还有一丝丝凉风
  • 老鹰平展双翼,盘旋高空
  • 地里已无麦垛,几只鸟雀飞来飞去
  • 一畦韭菜开满白色的小花

  • 麦秆笼里的蝈蝈,鸣叫更加响亮
  • 一只黄狗趴在门口,伸出全部的舌头
  • 牛在反刍,果树上的麻雀偶尔叽喳几声
  • 喜鹊飞过院墙,云朵似动非动

  • 在老家小院,坐在房檐下的台阶上
  • 我第一次感到一缸水的平静,却难以言说
  • 一杯砖茶,一碗长面,一碟小菜
  • 一个炎热的正午,几句简单的对话



Hibiscus

  • By Yu Xiaozhong

  • Now I believe all that appear in dreams
  • have taken a long, arduous journey,
  • and by chance come to our dreams to rest with us.

  • Much like those who left their old homes,
  • now antediluvian,
  • get acquainted with new neighbors.

  • Much like the pigeons in the glow of sunset,
  • circling near one another
  • nudge even closer to whisper.

  • Much like hibiscus that blooms after autumn frost,
  • its name tells its borrowed status, predetermined
  • to take an ambiguous role,
  • will do almost any task.

  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via WeChat (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊): https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/Im3YWnZMxnfLBlzu5kO9Og


木芙蓉

  • 余笑忠

  • 如今我相信,来到梦里的一切
  • 都历经长途跋涉
  • 偶尔,借我们的梦得以停歇

  • 像那些离开老房子的人
  • 以耄耋之年,以老病之躯
  • 结识新邻居

  • 像夕光中旋飞的鸽子
  • 一只紧随着另一只
  • 仿佛,就要凑上去耳语

  • 像寒露后盛开的木芙蓉
  • 它的名字是借来的,因而注定
  • 要在意义不明的角色中
  • 投入全副身心



RETURNING FROM TEMPLE OF GREAT AWAKENING

  • BY Zang Di

  • Dusk, an unassuming ruin of the day,
  • an unprecedented break of
  • silence and presence in life’s routine;

  • halfway up the mountain, with the loveliest angle to look out and far,
  • it affords the view of every ridge and every trough,
  • but the softer transitions are well hidden, in space and in time;

  • there will be time when a human heart feels ethereal
  • and goes for the profound; then life flows instead of following impulses.
  • Still it will take a little extra something for the soul to transcend.

  • There, perhaps the horizonis more than just a portal;
  • Lend us the mountain's breeze, which brings with it relics of a distant past,
  • and bales out sorrows through a sieve, floating, far away.

  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via WeChat (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊): https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/IppJeoRnLOIsZWVkbwzCAA


大觉寺归来

  • 臧 棣

  • 黄昏时分,一个废墟谦卑如
  • 人生的空白还从来没有
  • 在你面前如此安静过;

  • 半山腰多娇一个自然的角度,
  • 俯瞰交替远眺,乾坤的极限逃不过
  • 有时,缓冲带在历史中藏得太深;

  • 而人心一旦缥缈,自我难免会
  • 投靠深奥;看上去,生动多于冲动,
  • 但总差那么一点,才是灵魂出窍。

  • 或者,地平线也不过是一道门槛;
  • 借着山风,古老的遗风吹进来,
  • 将巨人的悲伤过滤成沉浮太偏僻。



A GLIMPSE OF SOMETHING

  • Zhang Lin

  • Some things are big from birth, like oceans.
  • Some things are small ’till death, like grass.

  • Still a few other things
  • were already old when we got acquainted, like this old family home.
  • I myself, am gradually passing from small to big,
  • through the journey of growing old and feeble.

  • —All my life
  • I am like a sprig of grass, thinking of the ocean, as if that is home.

  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via WeChat (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊): https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/dHc49m3VRxyVJ6aDOMguPg


大意如此

  • 张 琳

  • 有些东西,生来就是大的,比如大海
  • 有些东西,至死也是小的,比如小草

  • 还有一些东西
  • 我认识她时就老了,比如老家

  • 我,正慢慢经历着
  • 从小到大,再渐渐衰老的过程

  • ——我的一生
  • 就像一棵小草,想起大海,如临故乡



EMBER-ROASTED SWEET-POTATO

  • By Zhang Xinquan

  • To roast sweet potatoes,
  • he selects the finest ones that speak to him,
  • places them in a barrel-shaped oven,
  • and arranges them to get snug and cozy along the oven's wall
  • in a circle, stretching, sweating,
  • just like poets. Aah! Aa! Ouch!
  • roasted over coals, they slowly turn soft, aromatic, sweet,
  • moans and sighs are now softer, giving steamy scents,
  • Mmm...
  • Before considering it done, he’d make sure
  • everyone is evenly roasted front and back
  • until he too becomes an ember-roasted sweet potato.
  • The red glow on his face and his coarse garment
  • has me awestruck,
  • so I huddle close to the oven and listen to his stories.
  • When he is flat out, I handle the money and change,
  • sharing his simple fare of strong tea and baked sesame bread.

  • It's dusk and I ride with him on his sweet-potato cart to go home.
  • Q: What do you do, my gray-haired big brother?
  • A: I write, paid by number of words, a few decades now.
  • He chuckles and says: "Far better to code sweet potatoes.
  • Change job, better to be a sweet, warm-hearted street pedlar..."

  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via WeChat (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊) : https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/zKn-uAZcNxiORBCQXlo56g


布衣红薯

  • 作者:张新泉

  • 烤红薯就是把红薯中
  • 优秀而落寞的选出来
  • 放进炉子,让它们贴着炉壁
  • 站成一圈。伸腰,淌汗
  • 诗人一样——哦!啊!噢!
  • 然后逐渐变软,变香,变甜
  • 由叹气到哈气,到噫吁嚱
  • 卖红薯的烤完前胸又烤后背
  • 直到把自己也烤成一根
  • 红光满面的布衣红苕
  • 直到吸引我驻足观赏
  • 偎他炉子听他身世倚他车辕
  • 忙不过来时,帮他收整找零
  • 也接受他浓茶伴烧饼的便餐

  • 黄昏,搭他架子车回家
  • 问:白发老兄什么的干活?
  • 答:一个几十年的码字工
  • 他笑笑说,码字不如码红苕
  • 改行吧,来当糖心蜜肺的小商贩……



A HUMBLE POEM

  • By Zhang Zuogeng

  • The inexplicable
  • tiny
  • eye of a needle that lets a camel walk through,
  • the camel that looks like a small tumbleweed
  • will now enter my eye.

  • The earth that shudders under the wheelchair,
  • the rain’s glitter that falls through the air undetected,
  • those sobs that faintly ripple between the fingers,
  • the tender bud unaffected by the cold spell in spring…

  • The meteor shower
  • that slid by and caressed my cheeks,
  • the inexplicable
  • tiny
  • bristles of spring wheat that brushed against my heart…

  • —each of them a grain of sand that built the pagoda—
  • my humble and tenacious life.
  • Things infinitesimal,
  • smaller than a second,
  • but when I hold them all,
  • I feel larger than the universe.
  • When I gather all of their lightness,
  • I feel all the things that make up my life.

  • Therefore, I bend
  • like a sheaf of wheat.

  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via WeChat (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊): https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/jRqB8KxNlxbvgYfl366RhA





卑微之诗

  • 作者:张作梗

  • 那微妙的
  • 微小的
  • 针孔里走骆驼的
  • 从任一方向看去都像微末的飞蓬
  • 要钻进我眼睛里的

  • 那轮椅下战栗的地面
  • 那空中察觉不到的雨星儿
  • 那微澜,那从手指缝里迸出的啜泣
  • 那一粒倒春寒也捂不熄的嫩芽儿

  • 那滑过我脸颊的
  • 流星的抚摸
  • 那微妙的
  • 微小的
  • 像春天的麦芒儿拂过我心尖的吹息……

  • ——它们聚沙成塔
  • 构成了我卑微而顽强的一生
  • 这些微茫的
  • 比一秒钟还小的东西
  • 当我完整地拥有了它们
  • 我感觉我比宇宙还大
  • 是它们的轻,让我获得了生命的重量——

  • 我因此像谷穗
  • 低下头来。



NIGHTTRIP THROUGH BANGDONG

  • Zhao Jiapeng

  • The Almighty has drawn his black curtain.
  • The forest hills stand above the world,
  • letting their pet mountain mist out to play.

  • Passing through Bangdong, embracing the night's wind,
  • a world not unlike the hollow of a skull,
  • we scurry like rats.

  • The omnipresent fog presses on us,
  • it hastens our steps like a dog's sudden barking,
  • plunging us into abject misery.

  • Below us is the mighty Mekong River,
  • it flows south with a determined focus, yet we want to believe
  • its current existence is but an illusion.

  • For an instant, I almost burst out crying:
  • the trees on the side of the road look so wooden,
  • much like my folks back home.

  • I want to embrace them, like holding on to what is good.

  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via WeChat (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊): https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/TrOUQ9tv5q8BOPOlMIhc5w





邦东夜行记

  • 赵家鹏

  • 上帝合上了他的黑帘布。山林岸然
  • 放出豢养的白雾

  • 此时,我们正怀抱风尘,穿过邦东之夜
  • 世界像眼窟窿,我们像末路之鼠

  • 一万顷浓雾压顶,更多时候它约等于一声犬吠
  • 加快我们的渺小

  • 脚下是浩阔的澜沧江,但我们更愿意相信:
  • 执意向南的流水,
  • 这时候不过是一种虚妄的存在

  • 有那么一瞬间,我差点就哭出声来
  • 路旁那些表情漠然的树木,他们多像我的亲人

  • 我想抱住他们,就像抱住善良



ORANGES

  • By Zhou Sese

  • Far away in Hunan,
  • countless orange factories
  • hid among the dark green woods,
  • oranges rolling
  • from one end of the conveyor belt
  • to the kingdom of freedom—
  • a continuous stream of
  • new arrivals.
  • We climb onto the roof of the orange factory,
  • looking out at the distant orange groves,
  • fruit abounds
  • like plump hens. .
  • Crouching as I am on the hillside,
  • I want to taste their flesh,
  • only then can I really drink the raindrops, sunlight
  • and the nectar of midnight's dew.
  • When our group left,
  • the oranges flew all over the sky,
  • shouting for joy,
  • we kept on looking back.
  • Those were happy moments two years ago.

  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via WeChat (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊): https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/RlYqI0CQ5_jRlCWL0C1U_Q


橙 子

  • 周瑟瑟

  • 在遥远的湖南
  • 有无数间橙子工厂
  • 隐藏在墨绿的树丛中间
  • 橙子滚滚
  • 从机器传送带一端
  • 奔向自由
  • 还有源源不断的
  • 橙子到来
  • 我们爬上橙子工厂楼顶
  • 眺望远处大片橙子树林
  • 它们果实累累
  • 像一只只体态丰满的母鸡
  • 蹲在湖南的山坡上
  • 我要走到它们体内
  • 才能吮吸到雨水、阳光
  • 和夜露的甜蜜
  • 当我们一群人离开时
  • 橙子飞满了天空
  • 橙子的欢叫
  • 让我们频频回头
  • 那是两年前的好时光




A VESSEL

  • Zong Xiaobai

  • It ain’t simple, cause and effect;
  • such as why boiling water looses steam
  • being poured into a cup,

  • or for instance, being alone for long,
  • one becomes a friendly neighbor
  • to one's alter ego,

  • the acute pain of not being needed
  • gets old and is no longer the cause of death.

  • Certainly Confucius couldn't contain his pain
  • after saying to his student that
  • “Man should be boundless, unlike a vessel.”

  • his pain was not the effect
  • of emptying out of the fire in his heart.

  • nor for the friendly compromise
  • between his ego and alter ego,

  • for I know a vessel’s sorrow
  • has nothing to do with water.

  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via WeChat (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊): https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/W2vS5IuMLApxdrvlPj2Zng


容器

  • 宗小白

  • 事物的因果关系让人费解
  • 比如将水注入水杯
  • 水就渐渐不再沸腾了

  • 比如独自一人呆久了
  • 就会习惯和另一个自己
  • 和谐相处

  • 就不会那么强烈的感受到
  • 不被需要的痛苦了

  • 我知道孔子对颜回说完
  • “君子不器”,这话之后
  • 内心的痛苦也像满溢的水

  • 但他的痛苦并不是因为
  • 内心的沸腾不见了

  • 也不是因为看着自己
  • 和另一个自己和解了

  • 我知道所有容器的悲伤
  • 并不是因为水