夏
作者：朴杪
腌豇豆的咸香里蝙蝠转向。
我们的边缘都已生出褶皱。
因彼此溶于阳光的轮廓、
因注视，再度面露神色。
等命定的风雨穿过
匆匆绿意下未完成的结构。
行走以外尽是无聊之事。
除去昆虫干裂的尸体，
一切不再可燃，却仍被消耗。
远去的石制寓言、
曾将其刻制的情感，而今透明
如一场午后的睡梦。
朴杪，是一名学生。
summer
translated by PLS
bats spin in the salty smell of pickled black-eyed peas
creases grow out of our edges
because of their contours dispersing in sunlight,
and of staring, the expressions start to appear.
waiting for the destined weather to traverse
the unfinished structure in the fleeting green.
there is only boredom other than walking.
everything else is incombustible apart from
the cracking bodies of insects, yet they are still being exhausted.
the distant fables made of stones
the feelings that once carved them, are now clear
as the dream from a siesta.
Pu Miao is a student.
The air, thinning
by Zephyr Zhang
At night I catalog small victories:
the way you linger over morning coffee,
plans made for next week, next month.
On weekends, we lose ourselves
in crowds, at farmers’ markets
and busy cafes. I want other people
to bear witness to this life we have built.
To delight, through transience, in you.
That was a year ago, but I’m still chasing
improbable transformations:
A capacity for multitasking.
A knack for remembering faces.
An errant phone call.
Zephyr Zhang is a poet based in Aotearoa. Their writing has been published in places such as Cordite, Landfall, and Sweet Mammalian.
空气，越来越薄
翻译：诗验室
夜晚我会记载一些小成就：
你慢慢品尝早间咖啡的样子，
为下周、下个月所做的计划。
周末，我们在人群中
随意穿梭，去菜市场
和热闹的咖啡馆。我想要别人
见证我们共同打造的生活。
想要在转瞬即逝间享受你。
那已是一年前的事了，而我仍在追求
看似不可能的转变：
一项多任务处理的能力。
一个记脸的习惯。
一通打错的电话。
张挚，是一名常驻新西兰的诗人。其作品曾发表于《Cordite》、《Landfall》及《Sweet Mammalian》等处。
老屋埋下
作者：李走走
可以记载，丛林乌黑的圈禁。村落，四周来风
怀旧是梧桐树和我的，出生地
在上面；我，青石板，没有母亲
触摸的机会是跌坐的契机，凶手撞见懂事的婴儿
弃之以鼻。罪恶来不及遮住的，双眼、鼻息
同一切能锁定狂躁的复仇讯号，沉淀
等到向下去，歌声也一并赶到。竖笛，风琴和被借用
泥土介质。不及道别的人溺在天上，和愈发疲软
飓风，去往梧桐树的脚步规避
歌声和拔断电源的风扇旋转，悠扬来自某处
母亲、父亲和老屋
李走走，作品曾发表于《创世纪》和《声韵诗刊》等处。
the old house buries
translated by PLS
it is possible to write, of the dark imprisonment of the forest. the village, encircled by wind
reminiscing belongs to the sycamores and me, birthplace.
upon which: I, blue flagstones, the absence of mother
the opportunity to touch is a possibility to slump, the perpetrator runs into an intelligent baby
giving them a sneer. those that the evil does not have time to cover, eyes, breaths
any sign of revenge that can lock down restlessness, sedimenting
by the time it reaches the bottom, the singing is here too. clarinet, organ and borrowed
peat. those that don’t get to say goodbye drown in the sky, and the weakening
hurricane, the footsteps heading towards the sycamore stay away from
the singing and the spinning of unplugged fan, the melodies come from somewhere
mother, father and the old house
Li Zouzou, is a writer whose work has appeared in Chuang Shi Ji and Voice & Verse Poetry Magazine.
Ekphrastic Tankas*
by D.P. Snyder
Collaboration
Six is the fewest
number of fish in a school.
Tankas have five lines.
No matter! After I write this,
you'll add the last line: Silence.
Flotsam
All things break in time.
Made or born, all rise and fall.
A woman and dog
gather strange shells at the shore:
Who will read these messages?
Fish
Gingham, plastic, foil:
This fabric creature's cute,
made, not born, rare fish.
Being a body's not easy.
Break, fix, break, fix. Use the wounds.
*inspired by the artwork of Caroline MacMoran.
D.P. Snyder is an American writer and translator from Spanish. Her work has appeared in World Literature Today, Exile Quarterly, and The Southern Review, among others.
语象叙事短歌
翻译：诗验室
合作
六是一群鱼
所需的最小数目
短歌有五行
没关系。我写完后
你再加一行：沉默。
零碎物
一切碎于时
间，造或生，起与落
一妇人与狗
在沙滩捡拾奇贝：
谁读这些消息呢？
鱼
格布、塑料、箔：
此布料作品可爱，
造、非生，珍鱼。
身为一体非易事。
破、修、破、修。用伤口。
D.P. Snyder 是一名西班牙裔美国写作者与翻译。她的作品曾发表于《World Literature Today》、《Exile Quarterly》及《The Southern Review》等处。
作者：高敬天
我一直会有点怕猫，Esmeralda 抚着怀中的流浪黑猫，得意地对我笑。我想她现在的动作，像是打一个单字动词的字谜。谜底，是”掖”。我站在汛期抢险指挥部的轮廓投下的阴影里，想回她一个宠溺的笑，但看上去可能只是窘迫。我想告诉E一些，我力所不能及的事：世界将桥用作贮藏悬念的方式，如同它以铀为春天上锁，有时沦为拿不到工伤保险的自娱。我效仿湖面，袭用桥运筹一种我不熟悉的代数，垂柳递来捉摸不定的幂，捎带有体制外劳动力的叹息。春雨借杜甫试验潜入夜的第十四种方式，但杜甫的诗影射出，雨水也在不懈编程杜甫，而夜被用作首选编译器，雨脚如麻未断绝，似乎唐代由盛转衰之际的雨，预知了 Esmeralda 给出的字谜，以另一种象形方式演绎出“掖”，作为向她打的招呼，而杜甫一生应邀走穴于宇宙在困兽之痛中呕出的这些谜，捱在一个个谜面的关节处充任配角，稀里糊涂又执拗。
高敬天，他所能依靠的只是自己的勇气。
translated by PLS
I’ve always been a bit scared of cats. Esmeralda strokes the stray cat in her arms, smirking at me. Her current movement, I think, is like a riddle for a single word verb. The answer, is “tuck”. Standing in the shadow of the outline of a flood emergency command unit, I wanted to give her an indulgent smile, but it may just look like embarrassment. I wanted to tell E about the things I can not accomplish: the world stores suspense in a bridge, as if locking the spring with uranium, sometimes reduced into self entertainment as a result of not receiving employment injury insurance. I imitate the surface of lakes, solving unfamiliar algebra with bridges, as willows hand over the unpredictable power, releasing sighs of labour outside the system. It’s the fourteenth time the spring rain attempts to lurk in the night with Du Fu, yet the latter’s poetry manifests, that rain is also endlessly coding Du Fu, and night is chosen as a preferred complier, rain steps into a chaos un-intermittently, like the rain from when the Tang dynasty started to decline, predicting the answer to Esmeralda’s riddle, interpreting “tuck” in a hieroglyphic way, as a salutation for herself, though these riddles coughed out by Du Fu with the pains of a caged beast when he was minstreling about the universe, bide as a sidekick at the joints of one after another riddles, muddleheaded and stubborn.
Gao Jingtian, all he can rely on is courage.
斗门
作者：帕凡
带着高原沉吟的脸
我经过这里
触碰一些举自往昔
尚未黯淡的目光
临写简单的字眼:
心应的海浪、窗和远山
凝望中凝结的弧线
没有重量
但真实可辨的
时间的尾迹
这些微明的构成
有时扩展为较大的云层
一切清晰或模糊摇动的影子
都由此消释吧
一年，五年
窗中的浮木退入深冬
山的脉搏在众多边缘停泊
陌生的奇迹
总是不远不近
帕凡，翻译，现居福州。
doumen
translated by PLS
with the muttering face of the plateau
i walk by this place
running into a few looks from the past
though not yet bleak
copying a few simple words:
the gratifying waves, windows and distant mountains
the arcs frozen in the gaze
has no weight
but real identifiable
traces of time
these glimmering compositions
sometimes expand into larger clouds
let all clear or blearily swaying shadows
disappear from here
one year, five years from now
the driftwood in the window will retreat into winter
the pulsing of the mountains moored at numerous borders
and strange miracles
never distant nor close
Pa Fan is a translator who currently lives in Fuzhou.
our years added up
by W.M. Butler
if i could shed you like skin leave the last of you to blister in the sun a husk of my time spent exposed to the elemental cost of our years added up
there would still be the rain bleeding smudges of neon on the streets beneath the taxi’s tires the threading of my fingers beneath your dress your breath snared in the thrust of my collar bone
we alone in this world understand the tragic mistake of falling in love with each other the knowledge that anyone we touch afterwards will be a shadow of a shadow of what we did to each other’s bodies the traces we left on the other’s mind
we cannot be dulled by tides or distance or a new love that will not burn us like we burned when blue eyes sparked in a future city that was already lost
when we arrived.
W.M. Butler is a Canadian writer. His work has appeared in Far Enough East, H.A.L. Literature, Literary Orphans and more.
我们共度的时间
翻译：诗验室
如果我可以像皮肤一样蜕掉你任最后一片你在阳光下发疱我暴露于我们共度的时间之沉重代价中虚度的光阴之壳
街头将会有淌血的雨出租车轮胎下霓虹斑斑你的裙下我来回游走的手指你戳着我锁骨的呼吸
这世上只有我们清楚陷入恋爱的悲剧性错误知道此后与我们沾染的任何人都将是我们给彼此身体造成的阴影的一个阴影我们在对方大脑中留下的印记
我们无法因潮汐或距离或一段无法像我们刚抵达一座早已迷失的未来之城时碧眼一亮那样燃烧我们的新爱情
而变得麻木。
W.M. Butler 是一名加拿大写作者。其作品曾发表于《Far Enough East》、《H.A.L. Literature》及《Literary Orphans》等处。
焦距
作者：朴杪
为留白而交错，
凋落热烈而消极。
剪影趋近沉闷底座时，
脱节的一瞬，
似风中静止的风车。
大地渐变为鱼，
搁浅于自身。
涓涓尘沙灌溉出烦闷。
如何借视线模仿
窒息与腥气、
剥落的鳞。
多年来，云是遮眼布。
我伸手向天空摸索
系在脑后的结。
focal lengths
translated by PLS
interweave for blank space
the withering warm and passive.
as silhouettes approach the sullen base
the moment of disjointing
is like the silent windmill in the wind
the earth fades into a fish
stranded on itself
trickles of dust watered into ennui
how to imitate the suffocation
the stink and the fallen
scales with sight
for years, clouds are a blindfold
i stretch my hands to the sky groping for
the knot bound to the back of my head
Absence
by Laura Romig
The baby snowbird who blinks in summer sun,
unprepared for all that light
Flitting and twinkling
And your eyelashes in the early morning
When the sun streams in the glass
And splinters through a thousand pieces
And sleep is grasping at your ankles
Tugging soft, persistent.
The roll of soft grass outside the city
Scraggled weeds that grow thick, dotted with runaway wildflowers
Way out, hills that bound away in divine leaps
And the roots of your hair rippling with sureness
The wild running growth
Of a thing that moves in all directions.
And the kissing corners of apartment towers
The wiry fire escapes where lovers lean
Stuccoed in their portraits
Baby blue and blushing
And those same kissing corners of your mouth
Little raindrops pinning in a soft smile
The sun in all its radiance
And heads that turn to watch.
And the hush of winds at night,
Bitter cold biting in the mountains and
hot, breathy in the city.
The empty breath when you go,
the unanswered question
she spends her whole life asking.
Your absence wouldn’t be noticed.
Your absence would rip the world in two
In a way that would leave no joy,
no love, no friendship, no blessings,
no wind, no mountains, no breath,
no sun, no kisses, no weeds,
no flowers, no slopes, no rest,
no absence,
no.
Nothing worth noticing.
Laura Romig is a student at Brown University. Her work has been published in The Prospector, The Oakland Arts Review, From Whispers to Roars, and more.
缺席
翻译：诗验室
那只在夏日阳光下眨眼的小雪鸟，
对这些光措手不及
边飞边闪烁着
以及你清晨的睫毛
当太阳洒入瓶中
劈开千格玻璃
睡眠揪着你的踝
轻拽着，丝毫不放。
城外那片细软的绿草
扭成一处的杂草越长越稠，缀着
出走的野花
再远一些，以神圣的脚步跃走的山头
以及你涌着自信的发根
一种四处伸展之物
野蛮奔跑的生长
公寓楼的亲吻之角
清瘦之火自爱人所倚之处逃离
粉饰于他们的身形中
淡蓝色且泛着红晕
以及你的嘴同样的亲吻之角
微笑中拴着的雨点
火力全开的太阳
以及被它擒走的注意力
夜里风的低吟
山里咬紧牙关的酷寒
城里气喘吁吁的热
你走时空荡的呼吸
还未回答的问题
她一辈子都在问
你的缺席不会被注意
你的缺席不会将世界一分为二
仿佛没有任何快乐而言
没有爱，没有友谊，没有祝福，
没有风，没有山，没有呼吸，
没有太阳，没有吻，没有杂草
没有花，没有坡，没有休息
没有缺席，
没有。
没有值得注意的。
Laura Romig 是布朗大学的一名学生。其作品曾发表于《The Prospector》、《The Oakland Arts Review》及《From Whispers to Roars》等处。
降 E 大调夜曲*
作者：罗帆
黑夜垂下泪。像个老妇人娓娓道来：
我恨我的天生与不美丽
我恨我寥廓的苍穹被人所知甚少
我恨我的明天又将苍白
我恨我的圆缺时时被云雾围绕
我恨我痴心的爱
我更恨我的无边无际
时常令自己看不见摸不着。
今晚的夜曲，低沉地在林间回荡……
我这个凡间的幽灵，该作何回答？
我连恨、厌倦，哪怕热爱的事物
都如此渺小。然而刺的针孔
扎向自我时又庞大得明朗而坚定。
我无法回答，唯以看不见摸不着的拥抱
忘却恨，遗漏爱，在黑夜的地板上来回布道。
*肖邦夜曲中最脍炙人口的一首，谱于1830年。
罗帆，写诗和小说。已出版诗歌阅读随笔《透视镜里的手舞》。
nocturne in e flat major*
translated by PLS
night weeps. like an old lady who recounts relentlessly:
i hate being inherently unattractive
i hate being scarcely known for my vast sky
i hate my tomorrow that will pale again
i hate my ups and downs constantly shrouded in mists and clouds
i hate my infatuations
i hate my boundlessness even more
which often tends to blind me
the nocturne tonight, reverberating inaudibly in the forest…
as a ghost in this mortal world, how should i respond?
the things i hate, dislike, even those i am passionate about
are so small. yet when the needle of a thorn
stabs me they become enormously clear and determined
i cannot respond, only to forget about hate and love
with invisible hugs, preaching to and fro on the floor of the night.
*a composition by Frédéric Chopin.
Luo Fan, writes poetry and fiction. He has published Hand Dancing in the Photoscope.
cover image copyright 封面摄影 © 离耳
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