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

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 the emperor left the mountain for the bamboo grove to find his true self.
  • He bestows his 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 as the east wind blows,
  • and young hallway swallows remind people of a forgotten past.

  • February lacks zest, its waters are no match to a crow’s bright daring
  • 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 mud,
  • and the ancient road instigates unrest to remote villages.
  • The sky looks flat, lanterns on 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’re longings in the flute's melody.
  • A drifting leaf won’t let go of its desolate homeland,
  • and there is the pain etched on by truthful drunken words,
  • haunting like crickets and tides of time past.
  • The courtyard trapped our years as youth vanished under the roof.
  • My love’s Facebook page reads like a couplet in a dismal Spring, a mirror of us,
  • unreachable are you at the unfathomable night,
  • your sorrows because of my loneliness, amplified 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 past the midnight hour.
  • Yearning to hear your footsteps as if longing for lush green,
  • eyes hurt in their long gaze. What drives you to exile?
  • Oh, February, you are heavy snow, but will be a peerless beauty in time.
  • Amid unfulfilled dreams, I will be steadfast, reaching the unreachable. Let me sigh,
  • let me remember how water bends, how boulders make hollow sounds,
  • how March brings 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




YESTERDAYS' POEM OF THE DAY 昨日的 每日一首

HIGH-SPEED RAIL

  • By Ban Ruo

  • I am not sure, the village on this foreign place
  • is not my village. The sky is a mirror, lighting up
  • the world in winter. By the water, an old man flashes by,
  • keeping watch of his flock, of the weather, of the wheat field,
  • and the watery rice paddies.

  • An ox is drinking. I do not have names
  • for all of these things. Just like I do not know
  • the names of all of the people here on the train.
  • A glamorous woman is crying, jabbering,
  • recounting her failed marriage. I don’t know her name,
  • but how similar she looks, to me, to my hometown, to my relatives,
  • in a foreign place, where we meet and quickly separate. Look,
  • the graves in the wheat field, the new tombs, the old tombs, how similar they look.

  • 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/9o05oMqGGj29MQvo2j0Z6A


高铁上

  • 班 若

  • 我不能确定,这异乡土地上的村庄
  • 不是我的村庄。天光如一面镜子,照亮了
  • 入冬的尘世。水边,一晃而过的
  • 老人放养着冬天与羊群,放养着麦地,
  • 和水汪汪的稻茬田。

  • 黄牛在低头饮水。这一切
  • 我叫不出它们的名字。就像此刻
  • 与我同车的人,我叫不出。
  • 一个光鲜的女人哭着。高速叙述着
  • 她失败的婚姻。我叫不出。
  • 多么相似。像我与我的故乡和亲人,
  • 在异地巧遇,又即刻分别。你看
  • 那麦地里的坟头,新坟挨着旧坟,也多么相似。




PRINCE

  • By Bei Ye

  • In the afternoon, Prince appeared from below the hill.
  • From a distance, he beckoned to me,
  • walked towards me, and shook my hand.

  • He had just released a kept dove,
  • so his hand was even softer,
  • and his expression was like the autumn sky.

  • Many people don’t know Prince.
  • His lady friends gave him this nickname.
  • One time they called me, Bei Ye, come quick, Prince is already here!

  • Sure enough, Prince was sitting on a little wooden stool.
  • He beamed at me from a distance.
  • A few cats lounged next to him.

  • 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/UgKNPLSVfUvTdtDjWFcTgw


常公子

  • 北 野

  • 午后在山下遇见常公子
  • 他远远向我招手
  • 走过来,和我握手

  • 他的手因为刚刚放生了一只鸽子
  • 而更加绵软
  • 他的表情像秋天

  • 许多人不认识常公子
  • 他的女友们给他取了这个绰号
  • 她们说,北野你快来,公子早到了!

  • 果然,常公子坐在小板凳上
  • 远远地冲我笑
  • 身边卧着几只猫。




GRAIN-DRYING COURT

  • By Chen Renjie

  • A rectangular vacant lot, or we can say
  • the rectangular lot for welcoming autumn,
  • receiving its grain and cotton pods waiting to be dried
  • while summer flowers under the hedge can’t stop blossoming.

  • Why is it rectangular but not
  • other shapes? See, my joy is also a little
  • longer than wanting and a little shorter than longing.
  • Although when the evening comes,
  • it will be bent out of shape by noises—
  • a struggle is going on
  • between a pack of small wolves, a flock of baby lambs,
  • and the ghosts of those eaten quietly rise up.

  • The clouds stand ever so quiet,
  • sheltering an endless crest of blue spruce.
  • A perfect rectangle is still perfect,
  • not chewed over by the irregular village life.

  • Standing in this courtyard, I sometimes notice
  • an invisible line trailing to the sky, tethering
  • a young man, akin to a grain, and his unbridled dream
  • under the wings of a kite larger than my hometown.

  • 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_0oauyt_nR7LAR2JQhhFg


晒谷场

  • 陈人杰

  • 长方形的空地,或者
  • 以长方形来接纳
  • 秋天,晒不完的谷子、棉花
  • 夏天,四周篱笆下开不败的花

  • 为什么是长方形而不是
  • 别的形状?而我的欢乐
  • 总是比短边长,比长边短些
  • 只有晚间的喧嚣会撑得这一切
  • 略略变形。那是战斗:
  • 一群小狼,一群小羊
  • 被吃掉者,会趁着夜色悄悄活转

  • 静静站着的云影
  • 铺向远方的无边的蓝色针叶地毯
  • 一个整齐的长方形
  • 一直没被村庄不规则的生活消化掉

  • 站在它上边,我有时会看见
  • 一根斜向天空的隐形的线,牵着
  • 谷粒一样的少年,和他狂野的未来之梦
  • 像一只比故乡更大的风筝在飞




TWO THIRDS OF THE TWINE

  • By Chen Shui

  • The unused twine looks to be 2/3 of the original roll.
  • Across the field, someone is shaking a stalk of hay;
  • he looks like my father.
  • But he doesn’t have my face
  • or my big eyes.

  • The leftover twine, shaped like bread,
  • but does nothing to relieve hunger.
  • The tiny grains scattered across the field
  • will become seedlings soon,
  • but their sprouting so untimely,
  • and will eventually be pulled out and dry up.

  • The twine gives the divided land a profile.
  • The leftover twine rests in my hand,
  • I repeatedly loosen, tighten, and pocket it.
  • Now, one side looks like the Chu River,
  • and my side Han Territory.

  • Where is it, the used-up one third of the roll of twine?
  • There is a limit to the length of twine
  • that Father passed on to me.
  • Time, whereabouts unknown, once again graced
  • my late father’s portrait, and quickly slips 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/7JFQjUDiqkEh9WWF-rd8MA


三分之二的线团

  • 辰水

  • 剩下的线团,大约有三分之二的样子。
  • 在田畴的一边,一个晃动秸秆的人
  • 他像我的父亲。
  • 但他却没有与我一样的面孔,
  • 一样的大眼睛。

  • 没有用完的线团,变得松散,像面包
  • 却无法充饥。
  • 田野里到处都是遗落的粮食,
  • 不用多久,
  • 会重新长出不合时宜的幼苗
  • 它们会被拔掉,晒成枯草。

  • 一股线,就是地界的另一个侧面。
  • 我手持剩余的线团,
  • 放绳——蹬紧——埋土……
  • 于是,一边成了楚河
  • 而另一边恍若汉界。

  • 那三分之一的线团,去了哪里?
  • 父亲传递到我手中的部分,
  • 是有限的线。
  • 下落不明的光阴,再一次从父亲的遗像前
  • 匆忙滑过。




GOOD NIGHT, YOUNG MAN

  • By Ding Peng

  • The glittering city whispers to you over the cell phone.
  • You can't sleep, you're an electric conductor.
  • As your fingertips swipe across the screen
  • for second-hand truths, and your eyelashes open and close
  • like the bristles on a spring millet, a current makes tiny waves.
  • Yes, if you die in a game, you will surely 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.
  • Your heartbeats bounce on the earth, and 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 online tomorrow, when
  • Truman Burbank will flee 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



ME AND MYSELF

  • By Gan Sha

  • Sometimes I want to tell myself some home truths,
  • I suddenly feel touched
  • as if having met an almsgiver.
  • Sometimes I want to run away from the city,
  • to be alone to ponder,
  • I want to speak out loud what’s in my heart,
  • to hear it for myself.
  • Sometimes I am caught in a mesh of intrigues,
  • causing me to cease to exist,
  • only by shouting out loud, waking myself up,
  • that I know I am still here.
  • Sometimes I want to buddy punch myself
  • like running into a long-absent friend.

  • 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/c03Y04-v_zvL7jcmiPB7cQ


我和我自己

  • 干沙

  • 有时我想跟我自己说句真心话
  • 我会突然间感动起来
  • 像遇到了恩人
  • 有时我想逃离这座城市
  • 独自一人想想心事
  • 我想把心里的话大声地说出来
  • 让我亲耳听见
  • 有时我被一种莫名的怀念抓住
  • 脱不了身,感觉不到我的存在
  • 只有大喊一声,把我惊醒
  • 才知道我还在我的身上
  • 有时我想狠狠给我一拳
  • 像久别的朋友突然见面时那样




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




SOMETHING IS CALLING YOU

  • By Guo Jianqiang

  • Something is calling you, calling you,
  • calling you to go down Prosperity Place, down Courthouse Drive, down Mojia Street Market, down the office blocks, down Arts Museum,
  • down the various metaphorical windows on memory lane.

  • Something is calling you, calling you to enter a different city,
  • to mingle with a different crowd, whose airs and graces remind you of those once dreamt.
  • Something is calling you, calling you to enter even more different cities,
  • to wine and dine and sing or keep mum with even more people,
  • and afterwards to exit into the wilderness, farther and farther away,
  • into the grasslands, into the adjacent Gobi Desert,
  • into a different desert, and the snowy mountains and the glaciers by that desert,
  • into the forests farther and farther away.
  • Something is calling you, calling you to sleep on a flowerhead, on a bird song ascending,
  • on a cloud, and on the sky above the clouds, on skies even higher.
  • Something is calling you, calling you to descend from the sky, to wake up on the sea,
  • to wake up on a scale of a fish in the Pacific.
  • Something is calling you, calling you to walk into the great west coast,
  • and then farther and farther away,
  • into the wilderness, into the grasslands, into the adjacent Gobi Desert,
  • into a different desert, and the snowy mountains and the glaciers by that desert,
  • into the forests farther and farther away,
  • into the shadow in front of your footsteps, into the sleepless, blood-red sunset,
  • into morning dew as light as a sigh.
  • Something is calling you, calling you
  • to walk into different layers of silky winds, into rough bags of winds, into fencing winds,
  • into fox and rabbit tracks, into the arcs drawn by migratory birds,
  • into the minute details of pictographs and the labyrinth of letters,
  • into this lifetime of yours stacked and stacked with memories
  • when the spirits, being revived and poured into the chalice, is gradually looking amber.

  • Something is calling you, calling you.
  • Among mists everywhere and flowers in every corner,
  • you are a long-distance traveler through this world and one communing with the ghosts.


  • 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/E6tUGeYM7vD2Mb6piMC2Yw


在叫你

  • 郭建强

  • 在叫你在叫你
  • 在叫你穿过兴隆巷法院街莫家街市场和行政楼和艺术馆
  • 和一个在记忆里开合着不同隐喻的窗口

  • 在叫你在叫你进入另外一座城市
  • 和另外一些人擦肩而过 那些神态和眼神仿佛一些似曾相识的梦
  • 在叫你在叫你进入更多的城市
  • 和另外更多的一些人唱歌喝酒沉默
  • 然后走得更远走在郊野
  • 走在草原走在毗邻的戈壁
  • 和沙漠和沙漠之侧的雪峰冰川和远处的森林
  • 在叫你在叫你睡在一朵花里和一声越来越高的鸟鸣中
  • 和白云之上和白云之上的天空 和更高远的天空
  • 在叫你在叫你从天空下降之后的大海上醒来
  • 在太平洋上的鱼鳞里醒来
  • 在叫你在叫你踏上西海岸无垠的土地然后走得更远
  • 走在郊野走在草原走在毗邻的戈壁沙漠
  • 和沙漠之侧的雪峰冰川和远处的森林
  • 和鞋尖前的影子和失眠的泼血的晚霞
  • 和叹息一样的晨露
  • 在叫你在叫你
  • 走在一层一层丝绸般的风里麻袋般的风里钢铁般的风里
  • 和狐兔的脚迹和候鸟的翅翼划出的圆弧里
  • 和方块字的峻切里和字母的迷宫里
  • 和你的此世和重重叠叠的记忆里
  • 将醒未醒即将倾入杯中的醇酒正在成为琥珀

  • 在叫你在叫你
  • 水气缭绕万物花开
  • 人生天地间你是远行客也是招魂人





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……



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



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




ON OLD SLATE MOUNTAIN, I SAW TURTLEDOVES

  • By Jian Nan

  • At dawn's first light, I saw turtledoves,
  • waking up in their warm nest.
  • These plump birds, whom classic tongue likes to mock,
  • and even Zhuangzi ruled them to be short-sighted,
  • are sitting, cooing on twigs of an oak tree.
  • For the longest time, I haven’t seen
  • turtledoves looking so grand,
  • seemingly they needn't dodge bullets nor arrows;
  • life has become posh.
  • Watching these birds’ short flight and wobble
  • between shrubs, oak trees, and cinnamon trees
  • as if that were the limit of their world,
  • it triggers in me, a dispirited middle-aged man
  • in the gloomy woods, a renewed cheerfulness in my steps.

  • 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/3iUxAXewLLsXhlS_KKTO6Q


在老瓦山看见斑鸠

  • 剑 男

  • 在早晨第一缕阳光中,我看见斑鸠
  • 这些从暖巢中醒过来
  • 被一句成语所构陷
  • 并被庄子认为目光短浅的家伙们
  • 正肥而不腻地坐在橡树的枝上咕咕叫
  • 很长时间,我都没有
  • 见到过体态如此可观的斑鸠
  • 看来不用像从前躲着猎枪和弹弓后
  • 斑鸠们的生活变得滋润了
  • 你看它们肥硕而笨拙的飞行
  • 尽在矮灌和橡樟之间跳上跳下
  • 似乎世界的高度就是它们腾跃的高度
  • 让我这样一个颓唐的中年人
  • 在幽暗的林中也有了欢快的脚步



IN YANJIAO

  • Jiang Bohan

  • Yanjiao residents go to Beijing to work;
  • those who don't have regular jobs sell houses.
  • New college graduates say they haven’t made a sale in three months,
  • hit by a new policy that discourages property speculation.
  • I live in Yanjiao on a tree-lined boulevard,
  • own a house, don't go to work, no children to look after.
  • Here I read and write and cultivate a small plot of land
  • for Yanjiao's present and future—
  • anticipating when I’ll become a Beijing resident.
  • For now, everyone drives a Mercedes or a BMW,
  • hoping to pick up commuters rushing to work.
  • Ten yuan to Caofang or International Trade Center.
  • Once the car crosses Sanyuan Bridge to arrive at Zhongguancun
  • inside the Fourth Ring Road, the fare increases to fifteen yuan.
  • This is by far the fastest and cheapest way to get to Beijing.
  • The new comers to Yanjiao work from dawn till dusk,
  • mapping out a bright future for their family.
  • Once Beijing incorporates the three northern counties,
  • their children will be registered as Beijingers,
  • that will be a dream come true, therefore for now
  • the road from Yanjiao to Beijing does not seem that long.
  • —Yanjiao is its suburb after all.
  • The loud, gurgling Chaobai River flows by.
  • The Xuyin Road Bridge connects Yanjiao and Songzhuang art colony in Tongzhou.
  • Left Bank Road and Right Bank Road stretch out
  • as if they are Beijing’s left and right arm.
  • I often cross the river to Songzhuang to look at arts.
  • There are so many painters there, all men, and naturally
  • some poetesses moved there later.
  • Different genres of arts come from all over the country.
  • The landlady cannot cope with the them but to raise the rent.
  • I look on, don't know what to say,
  • can’t stand the scene. Unable to get a bargain,
  • like with all those expensive paintings,
  • I say “Come to Yanjiao soon,”
  • “this is the last fertile ground.”

  • 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/nMAEOjiHFFlIAPZ38oEOLg


在燕郊

  • 姜博瀚

  • 燕郊人都要去北京上班
  • 不上班的燕郊人都在燕郊卖房子
  • 刚毕业的大学生说,三个月没挣到一分钱
  • 源于刚刚出台限购的新政策
  • 我住在燕郊的林荫大道
  • 我有房子,我不上班也不看孩子
  • ——在燕郊读书、写作,耕耘三分田
  • 燕郊的现在和未来——
  • 想想生活在北京的我
  • 现在。他们开着奔驰或者宝马
  • 在路边捎着赶时间的乘客
  • 十块钱到草房或者国贸
  • 一过了三元桥到四环中关村就十五
  • 这是速度最快也是最便宜的北京顺风车
  • 在燕郊生活的外省人披星戴月
  • 他们有着美好的规划将来
  • 到时候。一旦北京吞并了北三县
  • 孩子的户口将要变成北京人
  • 他们都在这么想,所以不觉得路途茫茫
  • ——燕郊就是燕郊
  • 一条潮白河哗啦啦地流淌
  • 徐尹路大桥相连燕郊和通州宋庄
  • 左堤路,右堤路伸开胳膊
  • 就像北京的左膀右臂
  • 我经常穿越河水去宋庄看画
  • 那里的男画家实在是太多,当然
  • 后来又来了不少女诗人
  • 天南海北,各种各样的派
  • 把房东大姐气得只好加价,
  • 我站在一边,哭笑不得
  • 看不下去。无力讨价还价
  • 就像那些昂贵的画
  • 我说,你们快来燕郊
  • 这是最后的沃土。

TO A WHITE EGRET

  • By Jin Lingzi

  • White Egret, me and you are not alike, I’m very dark,
  • wearing black clothes
  • like a crow, incompatible with a snowy field. Like the black ink,
  • dripping onto white bound-scriptures,
  • that will fade with time. White Egret, you are very white,
  • whiter than me.
  • I have only one white garment
  • and it is worn and torn through longing, becoming threadbare.
  • White Egret, you are snow white; the kind of pure white
  • that whenever I think of my love, I see
  • a pear tree in white bloom, as white as my father’s hair
  • and the 10,000 taels of silver that he saved up for me,
  • as if the weight of love,
  • in an instant, colored the great earth with white,
  • made it white all over again.

  • 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/b3EJwLPS6d6eY0Vem0iC6Q


致白鹭

  • 金铃子

  • 白鹭,我与你不同,我很黑
  • 穿着黑衣服
  • 像乌鸦,同雪地格格不入。像墨水
  • 滴在白皮经典中
  • 也成不了千古。白鹭,你很白
  • 白过了我
  • 仅有的一件白衬衣
  • 它被相思穿旧了,被苦难磨出了孔
  • 白鹭,你雪白,白得我
  • 一旦想起我的爱人
  • 就看见,一树父亲一样的白梨花
  • 就看见他为我积蓄下来的万两银子
  • 如同沉重的爱情
  • 瞬间,把大地染了一遍
  • 白了一遍。




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

  • 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……



CARRYING SHEAVES

  • By Li Ruguo

  • He needs to run ahead of the heavy rain
  • to carry home some dozen sheaves of new wheat.

  • A mountain of dark clouds
  • is coming down lower and lower.
  • He is like an ant in a hot pan,
  • hurriedly hauling the grain,
  • each sheaf three or four times his own size.

  • As the little mound of grain inches forward,
  • his back bends,
  • until it can bend no more,
  • then the little mound carries him forward.

  • From early on he has grown accustomed to heavy burdens,
  • Each sheaf is a tremendous load
  • with a very small comestible part,
  • the bulk is the useless stack of rottingstalks.
  • Still he perseveres and endures;
  • he is accustomed to the thought that whatever the burdens are,
  • they will pass if only he carries on.

  • 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/Ax61APwd7ppXGa1bRihVDQ


背 麦

  • 李如国

  • 他得赶在暴雨之前
  • 将刚割完的几十捆麦背回家

  • 大块的乌云
  • 黑压压地压过来
  • 他像麦田大热锅里的蚂蚁
  • 匆忙地搬运着
  • 体积超过自己三四倍的麦的小山

  • 麦的小山每移动一步
  • 他的腰就弯一分
  • 当他的腰弯得不能再弯的时候
  • 麦的小山便携带着他走

  • 生活中的重量他早已习惯了
  • 在这巨大的重量里
  • 虽然属于粮食的成分只是很少很少的部分
  • 而更大的一部分是
  • 一堆毫无用处的烂麦草
  • 但他还是坚持挺住 他总认为
  • 不管什么事挺一挺就过去了





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




MORNING MIST

  • By Li Yang

  • So it turns out that morning mist is an ambience
  • to mend the rift between sky and lake.
  • People get to stroll in this atmosphere,
  • or should we say, in make-believe consolations.
  • That’s why someone will emerge from the morning mist,
  • clear his throat, and again return to more morning mist.

  • Any incidental train whistle is a threaded needle,
  • jabbing the morning mist. Unlike a cattail fan;
  • unlike falling leaves; unlike the word “mama”,
  • unlike water ripples or tree rings or stories
  • that spread in the morning mist. Spilled water can’t be gathered –
  • Ah, it is so. Through the soft and gentle mist, I see decline and decay,
  • I see a long bridge, a wound to be afraid of.

  • In the end, life is tinted with many mists,
  • and the imaginary lake cannot carry
  • the single, solitary boater.

  • White shore birds, what heavens’ void you bring in passing
  • that you cast no shadow in the morning mist,
  • I adore you, like my reverence for a twinkling star.

  • 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/yDLyHaEppPJlorCebXUvfA


晨 雾

  • 立 扬

  • 原来晨雾是一种氛围,
  • 以弥补天空与湖水的巨大分歧。
  • 人们得以在这氛围里漫步,
  • 或者说,漫步于假想的安慰。
  • 所以常常有人从晨雾中钻出,
  • 清清嗓子,又钻进更多的晨雾。

  • 任何偶然的汽笛皆是引线而穿的
  • 针,给晨雾带来痛感。不像蒲扇;
  • 不像飞叶;不像一声“妈妈”,
  • 波纹一样年轮一样故事一样
  • 在晨雾中扩散。覆水难收啊——
  • 是的。于温柔里我看到颓败和衰老,
  • 看到大桥,一条恐惧的伤疤。

  • 最终,存在有了多种朦胧的方式。
  • 于是这印象的湖水再不能承载
  • 孤独的泛舟者了。

  • 白色水鸟啊,你是捎带了多少天空的虚无,
  • 才不会在晨雾里投下半点阴影。
  • 我崇尚你,像崇尚一颗闪烁的星。




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


  • 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




ABOUT AUGUST

  • By Black Camel

  • Further south is endless lands, enveloped by a blanket of impenetrable
  • mist. Now we are in August,
  • my curiosity has overcome fears, greater than the loftiness and bleakness
  • of the wild west.
  • Let’s go further north…

  • Oh, please, stop soaring, fold in your wings.
  • Don’t be resentful, don’t exasperate, don’t blind yourself,
  • take a closer look, there is a good story before us, too.
  • Someone on the first floor is rinsing vegetables.
  • Someone on the second floor is washing dishes.
  • Someone on the third floor is doing laundry.
  • Someone on the fourth floor is taking a shower.
  • Someone on the fifth floor is drying her hair.
  • Now let us go further up, you’ll see people on the open roof;
  • they are lying there, watching clouds
  • or listening to the wind,
  • free of possessions, free of
  • thoughts.

  • 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/14WSs9I1fnMvaNSSE1QxFQ


八月史

  • 黑骆驼

  • 再往南的大片疆域,任何人撕不破的一片烟雨之网
  • 还在继续把它笼罩。进入八月以后
  • 好奇之心逐渐高于畏惧,甚至高于西部无尽的浑厚与苍凉
  • 再往北……

  • 哎哎,我们还是把翅膀收回吧
  • 不要愤恨,不要沸腾,也不要自闭
  • 你仔细看,摆在我们眼前的,是一个好故事
  • 一楼在洗菜。
  • 二楼洗碗碟。
  • 三楼洗衣服。
  • 四楼洗身体。
  • 五楼的人,在吹湿头发。
  • 再往上看,就看到楼顶的人。
  • 他们默默地躺在那里,或者看云
  • 或者听风
  • 他们身无一物。体内
  • 空空



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

  • 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

  • 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

  • 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




BOOK OF SONGS

  • By Shen Mujin

  • How many years have we not heard the birds?

  • It is as if
  • in a twinkle
  • Earth’s power grid is turned off,
  • and suddenly you hear

  • a voice, and a voice.

  • Our ancestors’ poems,
  • every sound, every word re-emerges,
  • full of emotions, half-choked,
  • caught in your throat.

  • 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/KUQ8-xP3w-IA1xRm5pe9jg


诗 经

  • 沈木槿

  • 有多少年没听见鸟声了呢?

  • 好比置身于
  • 一颗瞬间
  • 拉掉了电闸的星球
  • 忽然你听见了

  • 一声,又一声

  • 声声句句
  • 都像是哽在,挣扎在
  • 你嗓子眼里的
  • 祖先们的诗





ABOUT TOMORROW

  • By Shi Zhaotao

  • It's customary for me to bow my head when talking about tomorrow.
  • Some regrets are buried under the plum tree,
  • the rest locked away in the drawer.
  • Those who can’t open up are not up to talking about tomorrow,
  • let’s ramble on smog or the geese journeying south instead.

  • We look at each other across the long table while sipping tea.
  • You took the key point of my story out of its context.
  • About tomorrow or the future,
  • no one can get closer to their truth than a river can.

  • The cigarette butts are left on the edge of the table,
  • crushed before their last puff,
  • every cloud of fog feels like this morning’s rain,
  • prattling on about being cold.

  • Yet all I can do is
  • adding an extra padding of clothing
  • and lead a life steaming hot like porridge.

  • 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/ilY2CAn2DbOnSVupsc0cow


关于明天

  • 时兆涛

  • 谈及明天,我习惯性地低下头
  • 一部分憾事被埋到梅花树下
  • 而剩下的被锁进抽屉
  • 无法摊开自我的人怎配谈论明天
  • 谈霾,谈南飞的雁

  • 放下茶杯,你我在长桌两头对视
  • 故事最关键的一句被你擅自剥离
  • 关于明天,或者说未来
  • 没有谁能比一条河流更接近真理

  • 你遗忘在桌沿的烟头
  • 未燃尽前被捻灭
  • 而每一团雾都像今早的雨
  • 喋喋不休地说冷

  • 但我所能做的
  • 只是添一件厚衣服
  • 过粥一般热气腾腾的生活

NIGHT TRIP

  • By Shu Dandan

  • Like a beetle, the car crawls on the misty intercity highway,
  • a confounding impenetrable world.
  • Through the headphones, she hears a male voice singing the blues:
  • “Hush, bird, rest your weary head,
  • your stars will be rising soon.”

  • A simple song changes the sky like autumn rain.
  • We cannot help but be enchanted by the magic
  • out of nowhere, the same way
  • we keep on slipping back into familiar memories.

  • It’s as if some things we cannot defy,
  • such as the weed that survives being pulled out thrice,
  • let it be, we should yield to its mysterious will
  • even if it belongs to the little barnyard grass.
  • Much has already happened that cannot be
  • mended, but to forget is also impossible.

  • Bitter adversity twists the mind
  • the way a dry pomegranate breaks inside out...
  • What else can counter our ennui?
  • In my journey this bleak night,
  • the moon moves, so do I,
  • and try my best to retain the last of innocence.


  • 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/ZreOHCAiBC6DqXcdRyBsCA


夜 行

  • 舒丹丹

  • 像只铁甲虫,汽车在迷蒙的城际公路穿行
  • 一个无法剥离的混沌世界
  • 塞着耳机,听一个沧桑的男声唱着
  • “关住你的忧郁之鸟,你仰望的星光正在降临”

  • 一曲歌诗就能唤来一场漫天秋雨
  • 我们如此信赖,这看似虚无的
  • 精神的魔力,像执著于
  • 某些难以飘散的旧心情

  • 假如这也是不可抗拒的人生——
  • 田地里拔过三次仍不能除根的草
  • 就该让它自由生长,遵从那神秘的意志
  • 哪怕一株不结实的稗子?
  • 那么多不可思议的事已在这生命里发生
  • 弥补已不可能,遗忘,也不可能
  • 苦厄让心灵变得多么不知所措
  • 仿佛一只先从内部碎裂的枯石榴……

  • 还有什么能对抗人生的厌倦?
  • 在这荒凉的夜的旅途
  • 月亮走,我也走
  • 竭力保持最后一点天真




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

  • 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



SONG OF LASTING WIND

  • By Tian Lan

  • The long wind blows through me, through you,
  • through the northern pines darkly,
  • through the blue flames of the sea.
  • The wind doesn’t die, as I push on with my journey,
  • lost in the long shadows of Mount West.
  • At this moment, I believe in gifts,
  • in the natural ability
  • to hear the call from a baby sea snail,
  • to hear the quietest birdsong on a chilly night.
  • I also believe in fateful meetings.
  • The long wind will one day
  • take me away from these mountains,
  • at sea I’ll raise my glass and hobnob with friends.
  • Snow falls in the deep of the night,
  • sealing off starlight, sealing off love.
  • The sea doesn’t sleep.
  • The wind carries the disillusion and the rebirth of the dreamer.

  • 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/h1Js8xtue390bu9_MGU20g


长风歌

  • 天 岚

  • 长风吹过我,也吹过你
  • 吹过北方幽暗的松林
  • 也吹过大海的蓝焰
  • 长风不息,我也赶路
  • 走失在西山长长的阴影里
  • 此时,我相信天才
  • 他有天生的本领
  • 从幼螺里领取召唤
  • 在寒夜听懂最喑哑的鸟鸣
  • 我也相信缘分
  • 有一天,长风定会把我
  • 再次带出群山
  • 在海上与朋友举酒言欢
  • 雪落在后半夜
  • 封死星光,也封死爱情
  • 大海一刻也不停
  • 风声中幻听者幻灭又重生





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



EDUCATION BY SNOW

  • By Wang Fugang

  • At dusk, lonely snowflakes arrive like guests in the north,
  • a passionate young poet, a little melancholy,
  • came to a small stingy inn that sells home brew,
  • looking to buy the best imported liquor.
  • He chats up the innkeeper to talk about poet Li Shangyin.
  • but the innkeeper knows only poet Li Po.
  • He presumes to call the barmaid My Little Sister,
  • but this little sister must sweep and wash.

  • Using a public phone, he calls up a girl
  • he once spent time with counting the stars. He says:
  • more snowflakes now than the stars we counted.

  • But he is a failed mathematics professor,
  • owns a million pounds but the little inn
  • offers no silky sweet wine, only coarse home brew.

  • 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/hIvRwSxFJIvQk97rIJRGaw


雪的教育

  • 王夫刚

  • 傍晚时分,孤独的雪做客北方
  • 写诗的年轻人激荡,忧郁
  • 他来到出售景芝白干的
  • 小酒馆里,购买最好的风花雪月

  • 他拉着酒馆主人谈论李商隐
  • 但酒馆主人只知道李白
  • 他把酒馆里的女服务员叫做妹妹
  • 但妹妹们需要扫地,洗碗

  • 他用公用电话寻找曾经一起
  • 数星星的女孩——他说
  • 现在的雪花比那一夜的星星还多

  • 但他是一个失败的数学家
  • 有百万英镑,而小酒馆
  • 只能出售无关风花雪月的景芝白干



THE MAN WHO CHASES THE GREEN TRAIN

  • By Jiji Qiucao (Lonesome Autumn Grass)

  • I

  • What did the green train take with it? In Kashgar,
  • desert poplars still grow,
  • Stone City still stands,
  • and Kashgar River flows amidst wind and sand.

  • Tianshan Mountain sits in Buddha's Gatha,
  • an elderly monk steps out from the monastery;

  • the hands that leafed through the Buddhist sutras
  • now plant wheat seedlings on the salty earth.

  • II

  • Sunshine paints the Pamir Plateau with a rusty silence,
  • coloring the rocks breaking away from the mountain,
  • coloring a monk's brown robe.

  • The unseen purity of Buddha
  • flows with the river. Far and near, there’s only the wind;
  • only the wind can convey the echoes of youth.

  • III

  • By Kashgar River, immersed in the clouds, an ewe
  • kneels before Tianshan Mountain, before Kunlun Mountains,
  • before Taklamakan Desert.
  • Done with the day's lessons, the old monk sits in the dusk,
  • his robe melds with the earth behind him.

  • 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/giTR_FrqM8iWZyf4Xk9z-A


一个追绿皮火车的人

  • 寂寂秋草

  • (一)

  • 一辆绿皮火车带走了什么,在喀什噶尔
  • 胡杨还在那里
  • 石头城还在那里
  • 喀什噶尔河立在风沙中

  • 天山在佛偈中
  • 一个年老的僧侣走岀庙门

  • 用翻阅经卷的双手在盐渍的土地上栽种麦苗

  • (二)

  • 阳光带着锈蚀的沉默涂在帕米尔
  • 涂在逃岀山体的岩石
  • 涂在褐色的僧袍

  • 暗含的佛性的光洁
  • 在一条河上。由远而近的只有风
  • 也只有风,能带来年轻的回音

  • (三)

  • 云端上的母羊,在喀什噶尔河
  • 向天山下跪,向昆仑山下跪,向塔克拉玛干沙漠
  • 下跪
  • 做完一天功课的老人,坐在暮色中
  • 僧袍与身后的土地融为了一体




MEETING A FLUTE PLAYER AT DUSK IN THE CYPRESS FOREST

  • By Wu Shaodong

  • A field of clovers in patches are blooming,
  • it is here that I was reminded of the futility of life.
  • A flock of birds sings and flies from one branch to another.
  • The same song echoes on every tree.

  • I hastened through this forest uncountable times,
  • never bothered to name plants or paused for the colorful spring.
  • Getting older, I have no desire to know new people,
  • am gradually avoiding some of my better-dressed friends.
  • Walking alone in the woods, I ignore those walking their dog
  • or those exercising their back against trees or those shouting out
  • over the river. Oftentimes I twist to give way, letting those
  • with a solemn face or smug look to fleet by with their shadows,
  • giving way to those rushing towards or chasing behind me.
  • I've also allowed myself to let things pass.

  • Then yesterday in a Cypress forest,
  • I met a bamboo flute* player sitting straight as a pole.
  • I stopped to talk with him, I mentioned
  • springs, mountain streams, and misty lakes.
  • He laughed, and barely moved an inch,
  • like a tree stump with branches removed. Sorrows
  • are sprouting new leaves tall and long.
  • Walking away, I thought of these years,
  • the verses that have accompanied me, and the incisions—
  • like the six or eight holes on a bamboo flute.
  • I hope I have retained the quality of bamboo.

  • Notes:
  • *The flute in the poem is called a xiao (箫), an end-blown bamboo flute heldvertically and blown across a v-shaped notch mouthpiece.

  • 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/De-O47hlQBG9bxn8KNnXyQ


向晚过杉林遇吹箫人

  • 吴少东

  • 酢浆草的花,连片开了
  • 我才发现中年的徒劳。
  • 众鸟飞鸣,从一个枝头
  • 到另一个枝头。每棵树
  • 都停落过相同的鸟声

  • 曾无数次快步穿过这片丛林
  • 回避草木的命名与春天的艳俗。
  • 老去的时光里,我不愿结识更多人
  • 也渐渐疏离一些外表光鲜的故人。
  • 独自在林中走,不理遛狗的人
  • 也不理以背撞树的人和对着河流
  • 大喊的人。常侧身让道,让过
  • 表情端肃,或志得意满的短暂影子
  • 让过迎面或背后走来的赶路者。
  • 我让过我自己

  • 直到昨天,在一片杉林中
  • 我遇见枯坐如桩的吹箫人。
  • 驻足与他攀谈,我说
  • 流泉,山涧,空濛的湖面。
  • 他笑,又笑,他一动不动,
  • 像伐去枝干的树桩。忧伤
  • 生出高高的新叶
  • 转身后,想了想,这些年
  • 我背负的诗句与切口——
  • 六孔的、八孔的,像一管箫
  • 竹的习性还在




YANGSHAN MOUNTAIN PASS

  • By Xiao Shui

  • When my grandmother was gravely ill, I returned from 1,000 miles away.
  • Supported, she leaned up against the bed, blue jacket, red trousers,
  • not one gray hair out of place. But her hands were limp, bearing many
  • needle marks. She secretly told me that I must find
  • a shaman to help her escort her spirit. That very evening, it was unusually cold,
  • from our isolated village I watched the myriad of stars in the sky,
  • and the torches’ sparks following the wind around the mountain peak, rushing
  • into the canyon as if coming for my grandmother.

  • 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/rZBeTuUuL-XniyZ_w-j3FQ


阳山关

  • 肖水

  • 那次祖母病重,我千里迢迢赶回去。她被扶起靠在床头,青衣红裤,
  • 白发一丝不苟。但手是软绵绵的,留下不少针孔。她偷偷嘱咐我千万要去
  • 找巫师帮她喊魂。当晚寒冷异常,我在瑶人的寨子里,看见繁星满天,
  • 火把上的火星随着山巅的风,滚落到峡谷里,似乎很快就要到我祖母的面前。



PERSIAN SILK FLOWERS

  • Xiao Xi

  • 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




A FROG IN A WELL

  • By Xie Jiong

  • Sometimes
  • I would like to be a frog in a well,
  • a lifetime spent on a square of blue-green mossy
  • earth, a lifetime spent staring at the tiny world above,
  • yearning for a white cloud
  • to shelter me from the piercing sunlight.

  • When you tell me that you have traveled the seven seas,
  • seen the highest mountains, the deepest canyons, and the farthest shorelines,
  • your face appears
  • in my ever-changing sky.

  • But all I want is to be a frog in a well,
  • in the deepest pool, head raised, taking
  • all of you in.

  • 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/ejXZKe41q6JxqXh2j_M4xA


井底之蛙

  • 谢 炯

  • 有时候
  • 我想做一只井底之蛙
  • 一辈子住在青苔覆盖的
  • 寸尺之地,一辈子只见一方世界
  • 渴望一朵白云
  • 为我遮挡刺目的阳光

  • 当你说,你走过五湖四海
  • 最高的山峰,最深的峡谷,最远的海岸线
  • 当你的脸,出现在我
  • 变幻莫测的天空

  • 我想做的不过是一只井底之蛙
  • 在深渊,抬头摄入
  • 你的全部



THE MIGHTY RIVER FLOWS EAST

  • By Yang Kang

  • The sun sinks in the west, the mighty river flows to the east. Yesteryears' boats
  • occasionally blow their ancient horn across the river.
  • The towering buildings and speeding cars
  • have decorated the present age. Neon lights leap and jump.
  • I lean on the balustrade, looking out into the distance, seeing the bougainvillea dazzling bright and red,
  • the fast-flowing river does not give me a moment to reminisce.
  • “Not a day passes by that I don’t miss you, though we share the water from the same river every day.”*
  • All I can do is wave off the river to a faraway place.
  • Forgive me if I don’t care about what’s washed away. Whatever the river wants to take,
  • let her take it without return. On my spot of the river, I live love and loneliness,
  • tinged with occasional loss and bursts of anger.
  • Watching my spot of the river, I will host all travelers who come to stay.
  • And ask them to take along a letter to my folks and not await a reply,
  • ofttimes I find myself alone by the river, watching waters churn around a boulder on the riverbed
  • before calmly surging off into the distance. Living is like flowing water.
  • The mighty river flows to the east, the river flows to the east.
  • Like the waters we endure the flow of our destiny.
  • Notes
  • *This line is taken from a poem titled Song of Divination (卜算子) by the Northern Song Dynasty poet Li Zhiyi (1035 - 1117 CE).

  • 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/due6lmA8zlMNGUvyv9K_qA


大江东去

  • 杨 康

  • 落日西沉,大江东去。斑驳的船
  • 偶尔发出古老的汽笛声在江面悠扬起伏
  • 沿江而立的高楼,和飞驰的汽车
  • 已经把这个时代装点一新。霓虹跳跃
  • 凭栏远眺,三角梅开得那么鲜艳那么红
  • 湍急的江水容不得我有片刻的怀旧
  • “日日思君不见君,共饮长江水”
  • 只能送流水远去。这一生,我都不敢
  • 坐船顺流而下。原谅我是一个没有远方
  • 的人,流水带走的那就让它永远带走吧
  • 守住一方水域,我经历着爱与孤独
  • 经历着偶尔的失落和忽然的愤怒
  • 守着我的这条江,一旦有来客落脚
  • 我必定好生招待。并请他带一封
  • 不需要给我回复的家书,经常一个人
  • 在江边,看滔滔江水是如何与河床上
  • 的一块顽石相互咬牙切齿,然后
  • 又平静地奔赴远方。活着亦如同流水
  • 大江东去啊,大江东去,我们必须
  • 在此生的命运里学会隐忍




THE THINGS I PRAISE ARE GENERALLY LIGHT

  • Yang Xuelong

  • The things I praise are generally light.
  • I praise them because I feel laden.
  • I praised rain, wanting it to wash away
  • the murkiness in me; I praised snow
  • for I saw my own wasteland, hoping it would be dressed in white.
  • I was even tempted to praise you,
  • carrying your home in a briefcase
  • under the ominous moonlight in others’ hometown,
  • but, to praise exile
  • takes more bravado than to praise solitude.
  • Time backs away from us, awash with vague faces,
  • becoming lighter because of their lessening pull.
  • I often search at night for something light,
  • visiting breezes, going to lakes. Every time I look up,
  • I hope to see, there, because of years gone by,
  • the patina’d memories, shielding my sufferings,
  • will become sublime.
  • But oftentimes I only find yesteryears’ fallen leaves,
  • covered by a faded gilded sheen.
  • I am afraid to touch them
  • for fear that they may splinter,
  • unable to be picked up,
  • unable to be admired.

  • 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/M6uOuM600JZrHxnxaSESKg


我想赞美的事物一般都很轻

  • 杨薛龙

  • 我想赞美的事物一般都很轻
  • 因为沉重,我赞美它们
  • 我赞美过雨水,是想卸下我身体里
  • 含铅的云块,赞美过雪花
  • 因为荒芜,等着一片白的覆盖
  • 我甚至,险些就要去赞美你
  • 拎着一整只皮箱的家
  • 还有他乡闪着刀光的月色
  • 但是,赞美一次无根的流浪
  • 比赞美孤独,需要更大的勇气
  • 流逝的光阴里,挤满了虚无的面孔
  • 它们因为卸下重力而轻盈
  • 我时常趁着夜色去那里寻找
  • 打听轻的下落,我拜访过清风
  • 拜访过湖水一般地仰望
  • 在那里,包浆的记忆,隔着岁月
  • 将苦难裹上一层淡泊的云彩
  • 让它们获得上升的浮力
  • 可我往往只是找到一些积攒多年的落叶
  • 它们蒙着枯竭的金黄
  • 我不敢用轻易的手指去触碰它们
  • 我怕它们碎成一地,想赞美
  • 都捧不起来




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。



THE ROMANCE OF A PAINTER SELLING BEER

  • By Zhang Baimei

  • Hanging out on the river bank
  • one summer night along Songhua River*,
  • people watched the moon with their loved ones, eating assorted kebabs he made.

  • The discussion turned to soccer, growing vegetables, fine-brush painting,
  • and nine ways to slow-cook cutlassfish.
  • Love affairs are basically a matter of the mind.
  • On the other end of the phone, rain was pouring down.

  • The discussion turned lively:
  • which shop was cleaner;
  • what flowers to put in the room so it would feel romantic;
  • for the first rendez-vous, should it be in the boudoir or a cafe?

  • As they chatted, there stood Shanhai Mountain Pass**,
  • the rebel king had broken the defenses,
  • smoke signals were seen burning around Coal Hill
  • outside Beijing’s Xizhimen Gate****.

  • What do you say, shall we talk on the phone tonight?
  • You texted back, in-between selling beers: Sweetie, I won’t be home
  • before the soccer match ends at midnight.
  • On the banks of Songhua River, you and your friends got bored;
  • one of them, who’d die within two months,
  • said to everyone playfully:
  • after I leave tonight,
  • I won't be returning tomorrow nor the day after.
  • Never to return would be that moonlight tonight,
  • the dinner picture you painted for your girlfriend,
  • and the lovely smell of Dalie sourdough bread and Borscht soup in the kitchen.

  • In the moonlight of another city, your girlfriend read a story to her child.
  • A cozy, home-like scene?
  • Not everybody thought so.
  • The phone made a clanking sound,
  • hanging up on all love.
  • No reason, no warning sign,
  • the man who sold beer by the banks of Songhua River
  • fell into deep sleep; it's said he didn't have 100 yuan on him.

  • Notes:
  • *The Songhua River is over 1,400 kilometers long and flows from the Changbai Mountains on the China-North Korea border through Jilin and Heilongjiang provinces in China's northeast.
  • **Shanhai Pass is one of the major strategic passes along sections of the Great Wall of China, located in the northern province of Hebei.
  • ***King Chuang is the exalted nickname for Li Zicheng (1605-1645), a rebel leader who dethroned Chongzhen, the last emperor of the Ming Dynasty (1368–1644).
  • ****The Emperor Chongzhen (r. 1628-1644) hanged himself from a tree on Coal Hill in Jingshan Park, a park located behind the northern gate of the Forbidden City. It was from the Gate of Military Prowess that the Emperor exited the northern gate and made his way to Coal Hill.

  • 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/OmDz9uVH6xjMBkRtGgXVhQ


一个卖啤酒的画家的罗曼司

  • 张白煤

  • 在松花江畔游荡
  • 在松花江畔看夏夜的月亮
  • 在松花江畔和爱你的人
  • 一起,吃他亲手烤的各种串儿

  • 谈论着足球、蔬菜种植、工笔画和炖带鱼的九种方法
  • 爱情都是形而上的
  • 在电话的另一端大雨滂沱

  • 兴致勃勃,讨论
  • 应该去哪一家店比较干净
  • 应该摆放什么样的花朵比较有情调
  • 应该在床上,还是咖啡馆见第一面

  • 在语言的中间,是山海关
  • 闯王已经破城
  • 西直门外的烽烟绕着煤山

  • 请问你,今晚要不要打电话
  • 你在卖啤酒的空档里回复:亲爱的,我要看完12点的足球才回家
  • 在松花江畔,你和你的兄弟们闲的无聊
  • 其中一个,会在两个月后死亡
  • 并且顽皮地对大家说:
  • 我走以后,
  • 明天不会回来,后天也不会
  • 再也不会回来的
  • 是今夜的月光
  • 是你为女朋友画的晚餐
  • 厨房里,飘着大列巴和罗宋汤的浓香

  • 在另一座城市的月光里,女朋友为她的小孩读一册儿童故事
  • 那场景是温馨的么?
  • 并不是人人都这么看
  • 电话扑通一声
  • 将所有的爱情挂断
  • 没有理由,也没有征兆
  • 一个卖啤酒的男人,在松花江畔
  • 沉睡,据说他身上没有一百块钱




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



FAMILY HISTORY

  • By Zhang Qiaohui

  • A teenager stutters to describe his home:
  • downstream of Meiyang, a hamlet at the end of the ferry run,
  • a house, third floor unoccupied,
  • meant for him to save up to take a wife.
  • In the countryside, everyone is like that.
  • They work in a factory run by overseas Chinese, room and board provided,
  • and go home once a week. Less often, later on.
  • As we talk, the ferry has completed its journey.
  • The ferry carries those who want to leave,
  • and those who want to return home.
  • A dog waits at the door every weekend.
  • If you come back or not, it won’t move.
  • ( I had a dog like that. It got seriously ill but still waited for me.
  • Our days and our dogs,
  • they faithfully accompany us till the end.)

  • Flying Cloud Lake runs along our car,
  • serene and open, like a mother
  • listening to her son's description dotted with excitement and shyness.
  • Crossing Zhaoshan Narrow, a large dam appears;
  • it neatly chokes off a creek,
  • placid before its steep fall over the spillway.
  • I did not ask the young man’s surname.
  • The fields of rapeseed flowers along the road
  • look every bit like him. The home that he described
  • is like my native home that has long disappeared.
  • These years, I have loved another place
  • the way I love my hometown.

  • 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/ueInY5wIsTrGJ6MKSKCTXw


家春秋

  • 张巧慧

  • 结巴少年,描述他的家
  • 梅垟下,渡口那头的小村,
  • 三楼空着,等他攒钱娶媳妇
  • 乡下人家都这样
  • 少年们在华侨厂里上班,管饭,管住
  • 一星期回一趟家。次数已越来越少
  • 交谈中,我完成一次撑渡
  • 想出去的人渡出去,想归来的人渡进来
  • 一条狗,每到周末都等在门口
  • 你回不回来,它都在那里
  • (我也曾养过一条狗,病重了还等着我
  • 忠实的生活和狗
  • 到死也等着我)

  • 飞云湖跟着我们的车跑
  • 平静,开阔
  • 像一位母亲,听儿子略带兴奋和羞涩的描述
  • 车过赵山渡,我看到大坝
  • 某种规则扼住溪的喉咙
  • 平静戛然而止,剩下落差与泄洪
  • 我没问少年姓什么,
  • 一路上我遇到的成片油菜花
  • 都像是他;他所描述的家,
  • 如我失去多年的故土。
  • 这些年,我像爱故乡一样爱着异乡。




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

  • 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 LITTLE BIGGER LOVE

  • By Zhang Xinying

  • Staying too long in one profession,
  • you can lose your sharpness
  • without knowing.

  • May as well step up to the balcony.
  • While without purpose, you’ll see the point of
  • smoking and drinking,
  • the changeable clouds in the sky,

  • the two rivers before your eyes,
  • the steamboats that whistle at night,
  • the anonymous birds that
  • fly by and away.

  • You may not make the world greater,
  • but you may love the world a little better
  • if you are content
  • to be an amateur in many 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/mW4UGWqLAxovMM34TyDriA


更大一点的爱

  • 张新颖

  • 在专业领地待久了
  • 你就变成了这个专业的外行
  • 而不自知

  • 还是到阳台上来吧
  • 你会懂得无所事事时的香烟和啤酒
  • 天空变幻的云

  • 你眼睛看得见的两条河流
  • 夜晚轮船的汽笛
  • 叫不出名字的鸟飞过来又飞走

  • 你或许得不到更大一点的世界
  • 但能得到对更大一点的世界的爱
  • 假如你愿意
  • 做许多事物的业余选手

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

  • 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




DISSECTING THE DEER

  • By Zhu Tao

  • For the whole trip, the couple did not exchange a word.
  • The woman was looking at the scenery,
  • the man was staring at his phone.
  • Occasionally their hands grazed,
  • but pulled away
  • as if shocked by electricity.

  • How women and men
  • have forged mountains so high to become so separated.

  • As a child, I often had shaggy goats asking about my age.
  • I would jest
  • "I am eighteen or thirty-five."
  • They would say, "Child, you should learn math.”
  • or “go see a doctor.”

  • Luckily, this journey turned a corner,
  • a deer appeared,
  • all eyes darted to the train windows into the wilderness
  • as if to dissect the deer, fresh as a peach.

  • Something is calling you, calling you.
  • Among mists everywhere and flowers in every corner,
  • you are a long-distance traveler through this world and one communing with the ghosts.


  • 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/uXDyMF9Seil-5fIcEYeLaw


肢解那头鹿

  • 朱 涛

  • 整个旅程这对情侣不说一句话
  • 女的看风景
  • 男的盯着手机
  • 偶尔他们的手会触碰一起
  • 但旋即闪开
  • 像触了电

  • 女人与男人
  • 要锻造多少群山才能做到如此隔绝

  • 小时候常有秃了毛的山羊问我的年龄
  • 我总是胡编
  • “我十八或者三十五岁啦”
  • 他们会说“孩子你该学数学了”
  • 或者“快去医院吧”

  • 幸好,在旅途的拐角
  • 一头鹿出现了
  • 所有的眼睛逃出车厢奔赴旷野
  • 仿佛要肢解那新鲜如水蜜桃的麋鹿





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