《2021春季刊》双语诗歌朗诵

A Shanghai Metro Stop

by Brady Riddle

Doors close, and scrambling  

masses of arms and legs 

and equipage stand uniform.  

Crammed seats. Silence:  

moons held steadfast—gravity drawing 

definition toward worlds 

connecting

worlds towards definition

drawing gravity steadfast—held moons’ 

silence, seats crammed 

uniform—stand. Equipage and

legs and arms of masses 

scrambling—and, close doors.

上海地铁站

翻译：诗验室

门闭上，乱成

一团的手脚

和装备站成一个姿势。

拥挤的座位。沉默：

月亮坚定不移 — 重力拉着

定义朝向世界

连接着

世界朝向定义

拉着重力坚定不移 — 月亮的

沉默，座位拥挤

一个姿势 — 站着。装备和

手脚一团

乱 — 闭上门。

片段

作者：万思君

他没有一杯牛奶一杯白水地接着喝了

杳晦的天逼着他忘了关灯

油黄色的灯

他感到是某种海水正在落下

泥还没结块就被清洗了

因此他可以暂时不喝别的

抬着脖子 希望雨事可以时常发生

Fragment

translated by PLS

He didn’t drink it like first a glass of milk then a glass of water

The overcast sky made him forget to turn off the light

Butter-colored light

He felt as if some kind of seawater was falling

Mud washed away before congealing

Therefore he didn’t have to drink something else for now

His head tilted, hoping it could rain more often

Juxtaposed

by Martin Krumins

The blur of everything began again

I knew a planet and a star

I was drawn to both

Juxtaposed

life is nearly there 

never quite knowing where

just feeling everything as one 

whirlwind affair 

并置

翻译：诗验室

一切模糊的感觉又开始了

我曾知晓一颗行星和一颗恒星

我被二者同时吸引

并置的

生活快要抵达某处

却不知究竟为何处

只感觉一切仿若一场

匆忙的爱情

昙花

作者：王心悦

昙花是

昙花并不是

一种清洁的花。

它没有得到这种特权，在世界

自然的安排下。它没有

没有得到，在预设中应该到达的位置，

没有窗台和花园来安放

两个字，从上颚把舌头放在骨制盒里，

不存在包含的隐喻，

从时间的漫长或者流逝而得出的比喻，

在这个地标，没有流传下来。

昙花依然

昙花虽然开放了，

过于饱足的心灵，不得不开花，它渴望说。

景象是那么寂寞，无法想象的高空角落里

因为不变的进程，无法改变，

到了时候，就吐出无人觉察的呻吟

气息，它扩散开了。

只能张开，银白的身体核心，

颜色也是他们给予的，举着灯的人

没有发现光束，散开了。他们说真美，

但她不懂美在哪里。这萧瘦的蓓蕾。

Epiphyllum

translated by PLS

Epiphyllum is.

Epiphyllum is not

a flower of purgation.

She has not the privilege, in a world

under the order of nature. She has not

has not received, a presupposed position,

and no windowsill or garden to be placed upon.

Two words, storing the tongue in a box of bone from the maxilla,

there exist no inclusive metaphors,

metaphors from the endlessness or passing of time,

never passed on at this landmark.

Epiphyllum as before.

Though she has now bloomed,

an over-satiated soul has to bloom, she concludes with passion.

The sight thus lonesome, somewhere high up and un-perceivable

because unalterable processes can’t be altered,

when it’s time, they just spill imperceptible groans,

breaths, starting to dissolve.

Only the core of a silver body can be stretched,

the colors were distributed by them too, people holding lamps

discovering no light, dissolved. They say what beauty,

but they don’t understand where the beauty lies. This lean bud.

Dear Whatever Minor Powers That Be (pt. II)
by Matt Schroeder

      because of course life’s dirty
   tricks are reserved for when things are
finally going wellbecause of course
you can check every boxbe highly
qualified & still be ignored in the eyes
of a monolithic system that discounts
your entire nation       because of

course you can go from loved to stray
back to lovedto stray
again & the streets will have nothing
to say for themselves& those
who took you in will be elsewhere
mouths full of laughter

lowercase god   I am defeated
whatever minor powers that beplease

I knew things would get bad again
only I had hoped there might be a
little more time to stuff the bank
a little more time to set my affairs
in order

but if there is not& if
this is to be the grave I am to lie in
take what’s left of memake
some use of this constant betrayal
of a bodyof a life

I know I ask too often for too much

& know that asking for help this often
results in exactly the opposite of help
but this askingthis palm pressing
is the only hope I have left at a spark
to set fire to the kindling I’ve become

致那些小势力们（第二部分）

翻译：诗验室

                当然生活的肮脏

  伎俩总在事情进展顺利时

露出爪牙          你当然可以

检查每个盒子      一边高度

胜任  一边仍被低估了

全体国民的庞大系统

而忽略                你当

然可以从被爱到被弃

     回到被爱       再到

被弃        街道将一言

不发                    那些

曾经收留你的人将在他处

            嘴里塞满讥笑

小写的上帝        我已认输

不管是什么样的小势力    拜托了

我知道事情会再次变糟

但我只是希望有

多一点的时间往银行里塞钱

多一点的时间来把我的事情

安排好

            但如果没有        如果

这就是我要躺的坟墓

那么请带走我剩下的一切   试试

利用一个身体  一个生命

不断的背叛

我知道我太经常提出过多请求

也知道这么经常寻求帮助

会招来相反的结果

但是这个请求    这只按着的手掌

是要用来点燃我已成为的火焰

仅剩的唯一希望

贝阿特丽齐

作者：寒鸦

斜阳将堕

这时的光

也包含了月亮

树看着天

伊望着树

在画纸一一

记录秋的神色

风逐青鸟

金与黑暗

相交的土壤

伊褪去红衫

自肆扭动腰肢

赤裸地

笨拙地

随着潮落

熄灭在海洋

Beatrice!

毋要伊失去

Beatrice!

俏俐的心脏

Beatrice

translated by PLS

Sun, slanted and about to fall

Light from this moment

Also comprises the moon

Trees stare at the sky

She at the trees

On the drawing paper

Tracing every color of fall

Wind chasing the blue bird

Soil at the cusp 

Between gold and dark

She disrobed of her red dress

Wiggling haphazardly

Nakedly

Clumsily

Vanished with the ebb

Into the sea

Beatrice!

Don’t let her go

Beatrice!

Delightful heart

Churn

by Ross MacKay

The poet in the north lands

Sits, mythologically 

Stirring time with a stick 

Churning it. Twisting it. 

Looking to see what spins and what sticks. 

Kneading memories together 

Into thick wet clumps that hang loosely 

And drip slowly from the stick 

Back  

into the syrup of time. 

搅

翻译：诗验室

居住在北方的诗人

坐着，神话般

用一根棍子搅拌时间

剧烈地搅着。旋着。

看看什么会转，什么会粘。

将记忆揉成

又厚而湿的团块

垂在棍子上

缓缓地滴着

返回

时间之浆。

入场券

作者：王心悦

妈妈在入场券上又押了五块钱，

一次又一次，它的寿命

长过了这个家族，晚上

人们躺在床上，它就啃噬

旱年的稻米。

一开始只是入场券，

得到一张，进去的人也从不开口

究竟有些什么，谎言和误解

一代代传了下来，似乎只有

进入一个动作，得到叙述。

而事实是进入

只是入场券，没有人会说这一点

因为冷静（即使作为饰物出现）

也是一种规则。被轻视的诅咒

是真理，他们看见的是全部时间。

更像宿命的

另一个轮回，那是

在入场券的世界，听见水声，

由于和曾经的水流全然不同，

于是走上更深的道路。

握着入场券，越来越久，

可是什么才是尽头呢？

还是说，渴望那个许可、那标志，

在源流中溺毙的时候，

掩住尸首，有双翼的。

Admission Ticket

translated by PLS

Mother bet five dollars on the admission ticket

one time after another, its life expectancy

outgrew this family, at night

as people lay in bed, it started gnawing

rice from the drought year.

At first it’s just the admission ticket

there’s one ticket, people who entered never talked

about what’s in there, lies and misunderstandings

from one generation to another, it seemed like

only the act of entering, was interpreted.

The truth was about entering

only the admission ticket, nobody would talk about it

because being calm (even as a decoration)

was also part of the rule. Neglected curse

was the truth, what they witnessed was the entire time.

More like another cycle

of the destiny, that was

the world of admissions, watery sounds heard

because of flows never seen before

on the way to a deeper path.

Holding the admission ticket, for longer and longer,

but what is really the end？

or rather, longing for the permission, the sign,

when drowned in the flowing water,

there’re bodies to bury, with wings.

The Women in My Family 

by Erica Hu

The women in my family 

wake at dawn,
clad in shawls of a groggy sun. 

Clatters and clinks,
in the kitchen, daylight sings. 

The women in my family,
always catching the next departing train, 

have never seen the city.
They recede into the crowd,
shoulders against shoulders,
chafing away their existence. 

The women in my family — 

they teach me to chase waves. 

In the sea of time,
they clutch my tiny palm 

and wait for the ebb tide to let go. 

They know I must not stay. 

The women in my family 

never turn up as far and 

fast as they ache for,
yet their staggers drag on, 

each day, a little further. 

Yet at midnight,
their armors dissolve away.
The women in my family
turn back into
mothers, daughters, and wives. 

They lie in a wall-less cage, 

staring at freckles on the ceiling 

and swallowing,
in their cocoon nightgowns, 

the unspoken words —
the weight of living. 

The women in my family 

whisper into my ears every night 

as I drift to sleep.
“You can have everything.” 

The night spearfishes my dreams. 

Only their chants echo,
softly brushing the veins
of a dormant seed — 

every minute, 

a little longer. 

我家的女人

翻译：诗验室

我家的女人

天一亮就醒来，

披着昏沉无力的阳光。

吡呤啪啷，

厨房里，日光吟唱。

我家的女人，

总是赶着下一班要开的列车，

却从未见过城市。

她们消失在人群中，

肩并着肩，

渐渐磨去自己的身影。

我家的女人 —

她们教我如何逐浪。

在时间之洋中，

她们紧紧牵着我的小手

直到潮去时才愿意放手。

她们知道我注定要离开。

我家的女人

没有自己想象中

走得那么远、那么快，

但她们仍然摇晃着向前，

一天天，一点点。

可是到了午夜，

她们就卸下装备。

我家的女人

变回母亲、女儿和妻子。

她们躺在无壁之笼内，

望着天花板上的斑点

蜷在自己的睡袍内，

吞下

那些未讲的话 —

生活的重担。

我家的女人

每天在我进入梦乡时

都会轻声对我说。

“你可以拥有一切。”

夜刺透我的梦。

只有她们的吟唱仍在回荡，

温柔地摩挲着

一颗沉睡之种的血管

每过一分钟，

就会久一点。

问

作者：陈陈相因

撕下日历，时间好一把铡刀

我旋进柳堤的周岁，迷茫不安地蹀躞

足下走出一座拐弯抹角的园林

我已糊涂地度过成年，雪藏的二十二

像陷入湖心穴道的废舟

中央浮光鳞集，我低落得像履冰失败的折戟

在小满，唐突的飞鸟呼吸着绉纱

花楸端出一树祥云，丁香腾起雅紫的篝火

它们庆祝活着，庆祝巢群的香味未被使用

无数的道路捆住了广场，亦绑架了我

是谁把此刻的我们困锁在露珠抑郁的眼里

桥洞啊，水面前永远执手，不断的门

Questioning

translated by PLS

Another page torn from the calendar, what a chopper time is

I swivel into the willow bank’s anniversary, restlessly hovering about

Zigzagging a mesmerizing garden

I enter my adulthood bewildered, twenty-two years of being hidden

Like an abandoned boat sinking at the heart of a lake

Light floating and congregating, I am as blue as a broken spear failing to walk on ice

On Grain Buds*, swift birds breathing in heavy silk

Rowan wearing a crown of auspicious clouds, lilac dancing in a bonfire of purple

They are celebrating being alive, and celebrating the unutilized fragrance of nests

Umpteen streets roping around the plaza, and seizing me

Who’s locking us in the desolate eyes of dew

Oh the arches of bridge, hand in hand forever in the water, unbroken doors