答案
作者：肖禾子
我写下对他的爱
却招来了死亡
黑暗的隧道里
被遗弃的人在狂奔
观察，这里裂生出
两个事实，究竟
是我在飞速逃离
还是 我在向我袭来
黑暗中的人
你是谁，你为何
日夜召唤我进入
那失落与发现的世界
我在等待，他等待着我
或许所有人都在等待
真正的死，抑或是奇迹
一个绝对的答案
肖禾子，日本北海道大学博士课程在读。
answer
translated by PLS
I wrote down my love to him
yet brought death to myself
in the dark tunnel
the abandoned are running wild
watch, here bursts
two facts, is it
me escaping in full speed
or me rushing towards me
people in the dark
who are you, why are you
summoning me day and night into
a world of disappointment and discovery
I am waiting, he’s waiting for me
perhaps everyone is waiting
for a real death, or a miracle
an absolute answer
Kako Sho, a PHD student at Hokkaido University.
The Root of All Problems
by Erica Hu
I fear cloudless skies and the realism they erode into the eyes ––
predictable like the ceiling I used to stare at
when my parents bellowed and ruptured everything that breathed.
Sprawling limbs on the floor, playing possum –
I grew so tired of the physics
of constancy. How can one hold on to anything?
At which threshold,
a heart opens?
And the fruit of brokenness lives
to pay the price of maturing; the price of luck.
[Closes eyes.]
I fear waking in a world where no history looks like me.
Everything vogue in my culture has been stolen
by translation, beaten to pieces across
the Xeno-Pacific weathering.
The rest begs to be understood, but
can’t dance to the tempo of othering.
The delirium of war and peace
still hasn’t recovered from the looting of 1860.
I fear… I fear a world where no goodness wails like mine.
Like my grandma’s dialect, bejeweled with a twang,
loud and grainy, the whole country club stares daggers at her
happiness.
Instead of saying “hold your head up,”
she now confuses
death with floating.
I fear I swallow and listen and swallow and listen too much, words become
silence, the kind that does not take up space,
but faith.
And my idealism rises, like a red sun
that never touches the ground.
Meanwhile, the shape-shifters take forever
to undress on the soapbox, magnifying their ignorance.
[Opens eyes.]
Erica Hu is an Economics and History student.
一切问题之源
翻译：诗验室
我惧怕无云之空与现实主义他们烂进眼里 —
像父母怒吼和撕毁我呼吸的一切时
我曾经注视的天花板那样乏味。
四肢摊开躺在地上，玩着“负鼠”游戏 —
我对守恒物理感到厌倦。人究竟怎样才能坚持做一件事？
在什么样的情况下，
一颗心会裂开？
然后破碎的果实继续生活
只为偿还成熟的代价；运气的代价。
【闭上双眼。】
我惧怕在这样一个世界中醒来，那里的一切都与我形同陌路。
我熟悉的文化中时兴的一切都已通过翻译
被盗，在外太平洋的风化之下
都已化成碎片。
剩余的只能乞求得到理解，但
无法跟随他化的节奏起舞。
战争与和平的假象
依旧未从1860年的掠劫中复原。
我惧怕……惧怕这样一个世界，那里没有像我的善良一样哭号的品德。
就像我祖母的方言，带着很强的鼻音，
既大声又粗糙，整个乡村俱乐部的目光都像短刀一样刺向她的
幸福。
过去她会说“昂首挺胸”，
可现在她已分不清
死亡与漂浮。
我惧怕我咽下、聆听、咽下、聆听太多，词语变为
沉默，那种没有体积的沉默，
填满信仰的沉默。
然后我的理想主义升起，像一轮
永远也触不到地面的红日。
与此同时，魔术表演者在临时舞台上
花费过长时间脱衣，放大他们的无知。
【睁开双眼。】
Erica Hu 是一名学生，正在学习经济学与历史学。
新娘
作者：与安
新娘趴在草地上
轻声哼唱着国歌
没有月亮的晚上
气球沉入海底
他们把飞鸟溺死在颜料桶里
诉说着为艺术献身的方式
他们在城市的中央建起一座教堂
杀死了三十三楼窗外的蜘蛛
新娘趴在草地上
像一具尸体一样
与安，2001年生于江苏镇江，就读于芝加哥艺术学院。
the bride
translated by PLS
the bride lies prone on the grass
humming the national anthem
in a moonless night
balloons sink to the bottom of the ocean
they drown birds in a bucket of paint
explaining ways of sacrificing for art
they build a church in the centre of town
killing the spider outside the window on the 33rd floor
the bride lies prone on the grass
like a corpse
Yu An, born in Zhenjiang of Jiangsu province in 2001, now studying at School of the Art Institute of Chicago.
of what is
by Eliza Jane
It’s the first cool aired evening, and someone has lit a campfire.
The singed scent takes me everywhere.
Though you’ve been away for some time,
I remember just like yesterday.
The coolness on my cheeks
as the last fishy sweet days of summer
linger on the river.
I hope they’re burning their regrets
on small ripped pieces of paper and whispering
of what’s to come
I remember when we all did that.
How I was cynical.
How I was skeptical.
How I was afraid.
How I still think about that night, and those friends.
And thankful, that nostalgia and hope
so often lie hand in hand.
Eliza Jane, river walker, writer, musician and artist.
关于什么
翻译：诗验室
那是第一个天高气清的夜晚，有人点了一把篝火。
木头烧焦的味道让我浮想联翩。
尽管你已经离开有一阵子了，
我却觉得恍如昨日。
贴在我脸上的冷
仿佛河面上徘徊的
泛着鱼腥而甜美的夏末时光。
我希望他们正在烧掉写在
碎纸屑上的后悔，嘴里低喃着
即将发生的事情
我记得我们都做过这些事。
我当时就是那样愤世嫉俗。
那样顾虑重重。
那样畏首畏尾。
我依然会想起那晚，以及那些朋友们。
令人欣慰的是，怀旧与希冀
常常携手并行。
Eliza Jane, 一名写作者、音乐人兼艺术家，喜欢在河边散步。
金子
作者：李曼旎
白玉兰。也有金子做的白玉兰
红眼病伸进来的时候
她没有关窗
鱼的新娘替你躺在地上
妹妹买到一尊金菩萨
她不真也不善良
眼泪很美
每天勤勤恳恳地复活
手在裙底
国旗在头顶上，项圈
等它升完我们
每一个下午都金光灿烂
我们用它铸成的手
很容易断
李曼旎，2002年生。
gold
translated by PLS
magnolia. there are magnolias made of gold too
before conjunctivitis crept in
she left the windows open
the fish bride was lying on the floor for you
the younger sister bought a golden buddha
she’s neither genuine nor kindhearted
tears are beautiful
resuscitating everyday in earnest
hands under the skirt
national flag above the head, choker
wait till it finishes ascending we
are shining like gold every afternoon
with which we cast hands
so easy to break
Li Manni, born in 2002.
INSE
— combination of inso, elder brother’s wife, and sanse, third elder sister
by Alton Melvar M Dapanas
Didn’t they cast her as some witch and always be? As cucinera of one of the hometown fiestas from many years back, she, your Lola Jaine’s younger sister from the suburb, she with many mouths to feed, was said to have put hurimhurim, a spell on losing appetite, on the humba and pancit. A displease to the patron saint, Vicente Ferrer, known for his generosity. Like a scene picked from Laura Esquivel’s Como agua para chocolate, sans the collective vomiting. And didn’t you believe the adults—the learned ones, even those who work in the sciences—who conspired on not inviting her in the next family occasions, convinced that the spell was as real as afternoon sunlight against bare earth? The bringhouse was barely even touched, your aunt, Inse’s niece, quipped followed by a chorus of muffled gasps. An uncle shook his head, another lit a tobacco straight from the folded leaf. Hurimhurim, a mouthful onomatopoeia you’d learn to attach to Inse. A sign of the cross at the lunch table every time her name is mentioned. For years, she lived with the unsaid accusations—hearsays of her husband’s addiction to mah-jongg, a teenage daughter’s rumored abortion—if at all, she knew about them. We can’t say that to Inse! She is family, the same aunt adds of the person she just said ill of and then makes another sign of the cross, looks up to heaven. Because such is the familial tradition: to not talk with the person, and instead, talk behind the person’s back. The silent years went by, neither a mention nor sight of her in gatherings. But the sign of the cross is still done before and after lunch. The gossips are still the same—witch, addict, whore—only the faces have changed. You wonder if Inse’s healed. You wonder if she’s learned to live with the ghosts of names given to her.
Alton Melvar M Dapanas (they/them), from the southern Philippines, is author of Towards a Theory on City Boys: Prose Poems (Newcomer Press, 2021). Their works have been published in Germany, Lebanon, Ireland, Singapore, USA, Australia, Japan, UK, South Africa, Hong Kong, Canada, Austria, Sweden, and elsewhere.
INSE
— 嫂子 inso 与三姐 sanse 的组合
翻译：诗验室
他们不是把她描绘成一个巫婆、永不翻身的巫婆吗？许久以前在老家一个派对担任厨师的她，你外祖母Jaine来自乡下的妹妹，她需要养活好几口人，大家都说她施了个节食的魔咒，让自己不想吃烤猪腩和炒面。这让以慷慨著称的守护神文森特·费雷尔感到不快。就像劳拉·埃斯基韦尔《巧克力情人》书中提到的一个场景，除去集体呕吐的部分。你不是觉得成年人 — 那些有学问、甚至在科学领域工作的人 — 合谋不邀请她参加下一个家庭聚会，确信魔咒与照在光秃秃的大地上的午后阳光一样真实吗？派对的剩菜几乎没人碰，你的阿姨、Inse的侄女，被沉闷的气息打趣与纠缠着。一位大叔摇摇头，另一位则点燃一根香叶卷成的烟。魔咒，你将它与Inse挂钩的一嘴象声词。每次提及她的名字时餐桌旁都有人在胸前划十字。多年以来，她背负着那些“未公开的罪名” — 她丈夫沉迷麻将的传闻，未成年女儿的堕胎绯闻 — 如果确有此事的话，她肯定都知道。我们不能跟Inse 说！她是家族的一员，这位阿姨毒舌后会在胸前划十字并抬头仰望苍天。因为这才是真正的家族传统：不跟当事人讲话，而是背着那个人说话。那些沉默的日子过去了，在家庭聚会上没人提及或是见过她。但是饭前饭后大家都还是会在胸前划十字。相同的传言依旧不断 — 巫婆、赌鬼、妓女 — 只是换了张脸。你会好奇 Inse 是否已经从阴影中走出。好奇她是否已经学会接受别人强加于她的那些阴魂不散的名字。
邝故城（他们/她们），来自菲律宾南部，曾著有《Towards a Theory on City Boys: Prose Poems》（Newcomer 出版社, 2021)，作品曾在德国、加拿大、爱尔兰、新加坡、美国、英国等多个国家发表过。
上海
作者：万思君
不敢直视，你
脊背经纬纵横的龙图
淬火的铜目 腾跃的尾
咆哮是你
问候晨雾
魂归故里是你
东风下的航船
祝福是你
闪烁 清晰的吻
看哪，
那不是雨
眩惑的眼泪
祈祷光的土 透进光
失明的眼睛背后
川流金色的血
呼吸着四季之梦
还未构成的词语
在藤条上跳舞
骨与骨的连结
钻过一个 又一个
巨擘的心脏
没有狂欢的永恒
只有寂静的此时
直到，直到我完全醒来
才会将你如数记起
万思君，云南昆明人。
Shanghai
translated by PLS
too afraid to face, the
dragon tattoo on your back
fire quenching bronze eyes, twitching tail
the groan is you
greeting morning mist
les revenants is you
sailing boat in the east wind
the blessing is you
glimmering resolute kiss
look,
that’s not rain
dazzling tears
soil pining for light receiving light
behind blind eyes
streams of golden blood
breathing the dream of four seasons
vocabularies yet to be formed
dancing on rattans
knots between bones
piercing through one after another
giant’s heart
no eternity of revelry
only this moment of tranquility
until, until I am fully awake
shall I remember you in precision
Wan Sijun, from Kunming, Yunnan province.
祝祭
作者：肖禾子
当冬天的意识开始遮蔽
夜晚夺走了我的睡眠
迫使我倾听一些
无言的呐喊
还给我 那声音说
还给我 往来高低错落
在镜子里 在月光里
那个不属于我的我 凝视着
普遍的土壤上生长出
一种虚拟而真实的花
那是你也是我 秘而不宣
一日复一日 承担着沉默
失去的已经永远失去
树木扎根 在地下通达
枯叶和飞鸟聚集在天上
水 疾走在一面河床 闪着光
肖禾子，日本北海道大学博士课程在读。
fiesta
translated by PLS
as consciousness of winter starts to shroud
night deprives me of sleep
forcing me to listen to some
speechless howls
give it back to me, says the sound
give it back to me, echoes revolving and layering
in the mirror, in the moonlight
the me doesn’t belong to me, gazing
across the common soil
grows a type of virtual yet real flower
which is both you and me, keeping secret
day after day, bearing the silence
those lost are lost forever
trees are rooted connected under the ground
withered leaves and birds gather in the sky
water scurrying on the riverbed, shining
Kako Sho, a PHD student at Hokkaido University.
三娘
作者：吕周杭
供佛的十年，她虔诚地像一筒筷子
麻利，受用。扛着地上与地下
焦灼的沉默，快走成亦步亦趋的家鹅
偶尔，迟钝的老年机吐出流水歌
“让泪化作相思雨”。她用脚打着拍子
想象空旷的广场，城市在默诵中
抵御寒冬。人群持有古早的吵闹和温度
她的细胞是一座甜蜜的小屋
自给且自我满足。
出奇的。那些紧随的，粘稠了半生的
瓶瓶罐罐，在舞蹈里和平地共振
尘粒在沸腾。簇紧绒绒的光，向她抛
暖色的线团，像佛祖多年前抛出她或抛给她
这生活的迷宫，娴熟的积雨云，她在解，
从一步到一万步，反复画圆。
她也有她的智囊团。仁慈且多智的小姐妹，
她们像导游或早起的鸟，推动生活的新浪潮
大多是讲座与宗教，她仰着脸听
很多张眉飞色舞的脸，像哭也像笑
有时她甚至觉得他们像佛。
这些西装革履的瘦高花洒，
正沿途纷纷洒下求道者的食渣，慷慨且热闹
吕周杭，吉林大学学生。
san niang
translated by PLS
during ten years of offering, she was as devoted as a barrel of chopsticks
dexterous, and endurable. burning silence from above and under the field
on her shoulders, fast paced like an opinion-less goose
occasionally, trash songs popping out of the dumb phone
“let tears turn into a rain of love”. her feet taps along
imagine an empty square, the city fighting against winter
in silent recital. people with habitual clamour and temperature
her cells are a cabin of sweetness
self-serving and self-satisfying.
outstandingly. those containers following closely
sticky for half a life, peacefully resonating in dancing
dust is boiling. huddled fluffy light, hurling warm-coloured clews
at her, like the maze of life Sakyamuni hurled at her
years ago, skilled Cumulonimbus, she’s unravelling,
from one step to ten thousand, circling repetitively.
she has her own think tank as well. benevolent and intelligent sisters,
they are like tour guides or early birds, driving new waves of life
mostly talks and religion, she listens with her head tilted
lots of emotional faces, like crying but also smiling
sometimes she even feels as if they are buddhas.
these shower heads cladded in fancy outfits,
are all dropping pilgrims’ food crumbs along the way, generous and clamours
Lv Zhouhang is studying at Jilin University.
Cover Image copyright © 离耳
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