半洋亭河
作者：帕凡
树和水之间，
存在第三种生命。
比如四五点前，
凉晖收紧东园二路。
河水泥醉，
近了有股腥气。
倒影对白陈旧，
像熄灭的山峰，
一只鸟以枯渴的笔触划过。
水纹各自平仄，
认领重叠的姓名，
澄明不定的语言扰动枝叶。
帕凡，翻译，现居福建福州。
Banyan Pavilion River
translated by PLS
between trees and water,
there’s another type of life.
such as the cool light that pinches
Dongyuan Second Road before dusk.
waters are mud-drunk,
reeking of rotting fish as you near.
a dialogue between reflection and antiquity,
like the extinguished mountain peaks,
that a bird glides over with parched strokes.
the water ripples in its own rhythms,
adopting piled names,
while lucidly uncertain words stir the leaves.
Pa Fan, a translator who resides in Fuzhou, Fujian.
Abecedarian for Unraveling
by Susan Moon
Averting chapter eleven
bankruptcy is a meticulous
calculus. Allow
discipline to overtake you:
excel sheets / daily meditation /
frictionless spandex. Profess a
gospel of prosperity, any
house of worship whose
inner sanctum exiles little
joys from solemnity. If we must
keep up appearances, accept self-
loathing. I am loath to admit I am a
miser for time, mastered by
neglect of inner sound hummed
octaves below my ears. Even prayer &
poetry slipped into periphery. Dim this
querulous chatter long enough to be
ruined. Unspool me and you will see just how
starved I was for song. How lovely to
fly by trapeze through interior time
upside-down, my plans unraveled & un-
veiled. Tell me what you wanted to
win from all this careful tic-tac-toe,
X's and O's crisscrossing what is
yours & mine. Zigzag with me to
zero where we first began.
Susan Moon is a Korean-American poet who writes at the intersections of language, art and mythology. Her work has appeared in Hobart, AAWW and Honey Literary.
解之启蒙
翻译：诗验室
避开第十一章
破产是一种精确的
微积分。允许
原则压倒你：
Excel 工作表 / 日常冥想 /
柔滑弹力纤维。信奉
发达福音，任何
一门拥有自庄严
放逐小乐趣之
内心净土的崇拜。如果我们必须
保持形象，接受自我
厌恶。我很不乐意承认自己
吝啬时间，通过忽视
耳旁被哼至八度的
内心之声被掌控。乃至祷告 &
诗歌滑入边缘地带。将这份
喋喋不休调暗直至
摧毁。旋开我你会发现我
多么渴望歌唱。倒挂在
秋千上飞入内在时间
是多么美妙，我的计划明朗且
清晰。告诉我你想要从这局
小心翼翼的井字棋中赢得什么，
X 与 O 交叉往返于本该属于你的
和我的。同我一道曲折返回
零：我们最初开始的地方。
Susan Moon 是一名将语言、艺术与神话融入书写的韩裔美籍诗人，其作品曾发表于《Hobart》、《AAWW》及《Honey Literary》等处。
云层重叠。你数着梦境
作者：余柯宇
云层恰如其分盖住
蒲公英
狭长的眼角。擦拭我洁白的雏形
揉捏往昔爵士乐的相似性
我们面对面流泪，谈绯色，谈逃避
把赤裸的双脚裹进云朵的柔软
轻轻摆动着，惊扰青鸟的悬浮
最爱是落日昏沉的躲闪间
影子染浸迟暮的霭黄
倦乏的时候
我只能徒劳地督促
十月把
云层重叠。你数着梦境
里的羊，才能沉眠
云层恰如其分覆盖住
你和我
牵强的亲吻。相频失真的偏颇
沉溺在人间的斑驳则个
余柯宇，03年生成都人。
clouds pile. you count the dreamscapes
translated by PLS
clouds shroud the narrow
canthi of dandelions in
precision. wiping my white prototype
rubbing the similarities of old jazz
we weep in front of each other, remarking on scarlet, and evasions
wrapping our naked feet in the softness of clouds
swaying gently, stirring the floatation of blue birds
my favourite is the hazy yellow of shadows soaked
with twilight between drowsy dips of the setting sun
when fatigued
all I can do is to urge
october to stack up
the clouds in vain. and you have to count
the sheep in the dream, to fall asleep
clouds shroud in precision
the bizarre kiss between
you and me. the bias of distorted phase frequencies
indulging in the mottles of the world and that’s it
Yu Keyu, born in Chengdu in 2003.
中秋过后
作者：帕凡
月亮是多余的
月桂下的时间已足够皎洁
虽然屋檐连着屋檐
灯笼在门边打着水漂
我们推开竹林
与茶杯置换露水
带上渔火的刺青
追问桂花的踪迹
after the moon festival
translated by PLS
the moon is redundant
the hours under the laurel lustrous enough
though from eave to eave
lanterns are stone-skimming by the door
we thrust open the bamboo forest
trading dew with teacups
carrying tattoos of fishing torches
questioning the whereabouts of osmanthus
列奥纳多的烟雾
作者：程予
切开渍迹，一片讽喻环绕的
郊野互助感情
在想象中迁移自己
菠萝，雨天，小雨它们温和的碳
我低头擦擦你的手心
其他时候你并不允许我这样做
你有很多很多缺口
幻灯片一样的直觉系统
切走信任的在场
切走我好不容易琢磨出来的
多股鱼须；空旷的冷盐水
每天穿着如同鞋子的某个部分
它们总是抽不开身，又可能抱怨：
劳动结晶于所有潜在的乐园
那是永远在轨的电车
允许保温，那是永远臃肿的路线
在离开你的回答很久很久之后
依然记得那页书，并保证有限的爱
在这个房间越来越深的蓝色上午
在每天减退的记忆能力里
你可以放心
远看它一定是一张很漂亮的画
程予，学生，兼作翻译。
Leonardo’s sfumato
translated by PLS
spread the stains outwards, the edges of the field surrounded by
allegories piling up against one another
i shift myself through imaginations
pineapples, rainy days, drizzle, their mild carbon
i lower my head to rub your palm—
other times you wouldn’t allow me to do this
there are myriad crevices in you
intuitive system as slides of a presentation
has stripped the presence of trust
and multiple barbels that had taken me forever
to figure out: vast cold brine
to be worn like a part of shoes
they are always tied down, and possibly moaning:
the burden derives from a fairyland of all potentialities
that’s the perennially working tram
allowed to be kept warm, that’s the perennially swelling route
after having departed from your answer for a long time
i still remember the page, and promise a limited amount of love
in the deepening blue morning of this room
in the daily deterioration of memory
you can be certain
from afar it should look like an utterly beautiful picture
Cheng Yu, a student who sometimes translates.
How to be together
by Susan Moon
We are mid hike
when snow falls
snow moisture draping deer
scent impressions around us
like parentheses (from the tree thick
you remember your first hunt
bewildered by animal body majestic)
my nose unaccustomed
to animal imprint everywhere concealed from
my eyes accustomed to taking
everything literal. This is what
I think of (from inside your arms
your lids quaking
with dreams concealed from the waking
world) when you awake
I am staggering through the thicket
of your first breaths where we bedded
fresh deer tracks in snow pointing
toward the tail of your dreams and I follow.
如何在一起
翻译：诗验室
我们徒步途中
雪下起来了
身上挂着雪之潮的鹿
我们周围的气味印象
像括号 （来自树上厚
你还记得你的第一次狩猎
被动物尸体弄得不知所措 壮观）
我的鼻子不习惯于
动物的痕迹 无处不在 隐瞒
我的眼睛习惯于 摄取
所有 确切的东西。这是我
正在思考的事 （在你的怀抱里
你的眼眸 带着梦
震颤着 对醒着的世界
隐瞒）当你醒来
我将踉跄着穿过你最初的
呼吸灌木丛那里我们在雪中
以第一波鹿之迹为床指着
你的梦之尾 然后我跟上。
疯了的普拉斯
作者：袁婵
绵绵细织的橙色飞雨
有一棵果树在生长
雾气漫出双眼结成山
我比自己更高，高如
觳觫的羊，不安
不是为了浓白的湖泊
四处都是斩破深海的巨斧
伊隆戈人源出悲伤的愤怒
冰蓝的双手，血红的人头
冬风吹破南来的邮包
没有心是凛然如月的植物
行一条长路，写一首短蛇
字是冰屋，是车站
是地图绘在囚笼的玻璃窗
我补缴迷失所致的欠款
你不在乡野，你不懂午夜
漆黑中找寻一方剧场
酒神的圆形祭坛只见
话音颤抖的安提戈涅
阴凝坚冰指节僵硬甚至
挪不开爱伦坡的方形棺盖
熟读剧本的你久等不至
荒诞之处不在你选择不来
疼痛如亮光刺穿钟罩
我不想说谎但我看见
脚步旋成林间巧稚的马
我是枯枝，我是天
袁婵，日常写诗，现居北京。
Plath who has gone mad
translated by PLS
in the gently weaving orange drizzle
grows a fruit tree
mists streaming out of eyes thicken into a mountain
i am taller than myself, tall as
the shivering goat, restless
not for a milky lake
there are giant axes that slash the oceans everywhere
Ilongots let out their sad rage
icy blue hands, incarnadine heads
wintry winds blow open delivery packages to the south
no heart a plant stern as the moon
walk a long road, write a short snake
letters are the ice house, the station
glaze windows with a map sketched on a cage
i make up the overdue payment caused by being lost
you are not in a field, you won’t understand midnight
find a theatre in the dark
on the circular altar of Bacchus only
Antigone with her trembling voice
congealed hardened ice stiff knuckles that can’t even
remove the rectangular lid of Edgar Allan Poe’s coffin
you who masters the script is in no way to be found
the preposterous part is not your not showing up
pain pierces the bell canopy like a glint of light
i don’t want to lie but i see
footsteps swirling into cute horses in the woods
i am a dead branch, i am the sky
Yuan Chan writes poetry and lives in Beijing.
The Art Of Gardening
by Chandrama Deshmukh
There is a sunflower
erupting through
the simian crease
of my right palm.
I shed layer after layer
of salty skin
till the petals glow
in a rhapsodic rhythm.
I fear
this abrupt flowering
that I carry everywhere
like an abnormal boon.
A disturbing comfort.
The day you left
I wept.
And since then
I am becoming
my own garden.
Chandrama Deshmukh is a poet, playwright, screenplay writer and performance artist. She has had four books of poems published so far.
园艺之艺
翻译：诗验室
有一朵向日葵
自我右手心
如猴的纹路里
蹦出。
我脱了一层又一层
带盐的皮肤
直至花瓣在一个
狂热的旋律中闪闪发光。
我像害怕意外的恩惠
一样害怕自己
随身携带的
这一意外盛开。
一种令人不安的慰藉。
你离开的那天
我哭了。
自那以后
我一直在成为
自己的花园。
Chandrama Deshmukh 是一名诗人、剧作家、编剧兼表演艺术家。她曾出版过四本诗集。
失语
作者：苒苒
（一）
ta 写了一本书。
（二）
你注意到它漂亮的皮囊（当然，也很难不注意），
赞叹它坚实而不失风度的深蓝色外衣，
与外衣融为一体的哥特式字母、金色的欧式花纹，
还有那枚小小的、微微凸起的枫叶雕刻。
你从没说自己喘不过气，
岁月也仿佛从未在 ta 的书里留下痕迹。
你说这场旅行的意义，
便是在这本书里探寻 ta 的踪迹：
是什么呢？
古老的神话，
历史的足迹，
还是遥远的神灵？
于是你迫不及待地翻开书页，
不愿表达自己的小心翼翼
然后发现：
（三）
内页是空白的。
（四）
你大骂 ta 冠冕堂皇、华而不实、金玉其外败絮其中，
像是要尽毕生所学的华丽辞藻。
可你还不知道 ta 是谁，
也不会知道，
那些薄薄的泛黄纸张，
是落叶铺成的萧瑟的秋天，
旅行途中隆重的纪念，
流逝了的密密麻麻的字句，
还有，
用以象征“失语”的作品。
苒苒，目前就读于美国汉密尔顿学院文学系。
Wordless
translated by PLS and Bonnie Ran
1）
They wrote a book.
2）
You noticed its beautiful appearance (of course, it's hard to ignore it),
admiring its solid yet charming blue clothes,
the Gothic letters and golden European style motif,
and the tiny, slightly raised maple leaf engraving.
You’d never mentioned you were out of breath,
and time seemed to have left no trace in their book.
You said the purpose of this journey
was to excavate their traces in the book:
But what was it actually?
Ancient myths,
historical footprints,
or distant gods?
Then you opened the book without any delay,
rather reluctant to show your scrupulousness,
only to find out:
3）
The pages are blank.
4）
You started cursing them for being altisonant, superficial and deceptive,
as if to exhaust all the rhetoric you’d ever mastered.
Yet you still had no clue who they were,
there’s no way for you to find out
that those thin aged papers
were the bleak autumn filled with fallen leaves,
the grave memories from the journey,
the densely lined words that had already fled,
plus
the work that spoke “wordless”.
Bonnie Ran, is currently pursuing a degree in Literature at Hamilton College.
方丘
作者：高檩
我的玫瑰开在别人园中
方形，迷雾的山丘
三，被命运挑选的数字
仅在午夜的酒光中
横穿迷信的盛宴
火焰升腾，是风筝
而非月亮，月光总会坠落大地
划别海水和眼泪
作弄钟匣的那只手
是你，用一秒，定义须臾
分割危楼，弹拨的愉悦
当然，我们熟悉死亡长廊的
每一块瓷砖，复制粘贴的80厘米
他从无偏差
广播清晰地念出你的名字
刀斧届至，口舌清点着玫瑰花蕾
我们举起酒杯，潦倒度过春日
夏日，唯独少了秋日和冬日
忘了吧忘了吧全都忘了吧
我不能勾勒你的影子歌唱
有我祝福，你的玫瑰永远绽放
阳光透过梧桐树叶
就这样
写你，除了名字
高檩，诗歌与小说写作者。
Butte
translated by PLS
my roses are blooming in a stranger’s garden
square, misty hills
three, the number chosen by fate
crossing a feast of superstition
but in the midnight reflections of wine
the fire soars, it’s the kite
not the moon, moonlight will always descend on earth
to distinguish tears from ocean waters
the hand that fumbles the clock case
was you, defining an instant with a second
segmenting dilapidated buildings, from the joy of strumming
of course we are no stranger to each tile
of the death corridor, the eighty centimetres copy and pasted
he’s never deviated
the broadcast spells your name clearly
the axes are imminent, tongues are counting the rosebuds
we are raising glasses, spending springs
and summers in abjection, except autumns and winters
oh forget about it, forget all about it now
i can’t sketch out your chanting shadow
with my blessings, your roses will always bloom
sunshine pierces through sycamore leaves
just like this
to write about you, without a name
Gao Lin, writes poetry and fiction.
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