jump off

translated by PLS

four (as in the fourth day of the fourth month)

                       jumping off the cliff to dive into people’s hearts

                                                             such a careless intentional plan

individuals perish together

                       back against the precipice protesting in silence

destiny this arrogant conspirator

summoning the spirits out

inherent poverty is like a haunting ghost

before death you tie up my limbs

from the uterus of hell

steal the last straw that crushed Xiangzi*

those who wish to reincarnate but die on the same day

dead early but born on the same day

replace the life-saving straw for those who wish to die

save everyone from losing the dignity of being a man

* the rickshaw boy from Lao She’s novelRickshaw Boy.

birth of a white night

translated by PLS

in bed, i witness

the escape of ten million stars

night brutal as usual

sultry as usual

in a dream, i am again a

laminated fish

forcing out a corridor chewed by tusks

then a sinking yet un-sprouted body

what belongs to tonight

should all be handed to the night

the first heartbeat, breath

analogy, lyricism

i can still shut my eyes, or be soaked

or migrate, to the age of seven, eight

to the light and warmth of the star

and the unmeasurable, opaque spirals

back then, everything should be white

because my memory/oblivion

aren’t as abundant/dangerous as fish

piercing pain.

at last i welcome another ten million stars/scales

the ten millionth time of

sinking/waking.

Elements

After John Thompson’s “The Onion”

by Erin Vosters

He is toasting spices, tawny cumin 

browning in the cast iron pan

seasoned weekly in his attention,

and the air is hot with it. Windows 

open, fan on, each breath 

burning at the heart of me.

Sometimes I have to walk out, sit

on the cool concrete front step, breathe

the empty evening before I steep again

in the curried air. With the knife blade flat, he cracks

into cloves of garlic, and their isotopes

light the main floor, a bright rush of scent.How hot

should I make this?The smell is not just smell but

presence, atmosphere, and we

are alone in it.In the emerald living room, I sit

and look through to the kitchen.His neck

bends over the cutting board, an onion

comes apart, his eyes strain

open

大拼盘

翻译：诗验室

是我

是我闻起来像蒜

在他人的创造之上

花了整整一个小时后

香料袋内在自我

从未剪的指甲发散

我切苹果，肌肤

依旧柔软，粗糙

你称之为特权的手

烫伤或刮伤

如今捧着颈静脉

压至骨子里猪样的遗憾

我反感这工作

这难以消除的气味与许久才褪的伤痕

被油烟熏过的脸与刺痛的脚

到最后有吃的

不是给我，或你

而是桌子。

Platters

by Jill J. Tan

It is me

I am the thing that smells like garlic 

Bouquet garni innerself 

emanating from uncut fingernails

having worked an hour too long

on another’s creation

I cut apples, skin

still soft, unworked

The hands you called privileged

scalded and scored

now taking hold of the jugular

cracking down bone-deep into porcine regret

I am revulsed by this work 

the indelible scent and slow-fading burn

grease-fogged cheek and aching feet

At the end of the day there is food

Not for me, or you,

but for the table.

下一跳

作者：nobody

四月四号的四

                           跳下悬崖才能跳入人心

                                                        多么无意的刻意安排啊

个人同归于尽

                         背着峭壁仅以无声对抗

命运这个洋气的阴谋家

召唤灵魂出窍

贫穷与生俱来似鬼压床

在生前将你我手脚扎紧

自阴间的子宫

将压死祥子的芥草偷来

想超生而同日死的人替

早死而同日生

换赴死之人的救命稻草

大家保全了做人的尊严

S 于 Gay 吧

翻译：诗验室

制冷的弹簧床垫拒绝约束 

浴室尼古丁如船与船体露台

拎起盖子与风不幸时的

小放纵娃娃闪亮抓住肚脐

绝望的人和低音歌手离开餐馆

到外面潜水错误的入场

被高大的尖兵保护凝结的水珠

与闲聊同性恋自胯部存活下来

的暴力抓住锡箔屋顶与关闭的选项卡

每幅画面都变成副本那里人行道

呕吐物红色错失标记但房子里头是空的

主人已去它被打开且无人问津

S At the Gay Bar

by J.B. Kalf

The air conditioning mattress with springs refusing to curb 

bathroom nicotine like the ship and its hull the patio 

lifting the lid and the wind little indulgences 

on miseries and dolls flashing grip of the navel

desperate men and crooners as exiting the diner

and entering the dive outside the wrong entrance

protected by the butch vanguard condensation

and chit chat violence of the homosexual surviving

through hips gripping tinfoil roofs and closed tabs and

each image becomes the duplicate where sidewalk

vomit red misses the mark but inside the house is empty

and the owner is gone and it is unlocked and it is left alone.

白夜的出生

作者：白昕沄

在床上，我见证

一千万恒星的逃逸

夜一如既往的残忍

一如既往的温热，黏腻

梦里，我又是一条

覆膜的鱼

挤出长齿咀嚼的甬道

继而是一具下沉却未发芽的身体

是今夜的

就全部倾给今夜

初次的心跳，呼吸

比喻，抒情

我依然能阖眼，或湿透

或洄游，到七岁、八岁

到恒星的光与热

与称量不出的不透明的螺旋

那时，一切都该是白的

因为我的记忆/遗忘

也不比鱼更加丰富/危险

刺痛。

我终又迎来一千万恒星/鳞片

第一千万次的

湮灭/睁眼。

元素

仿John Thompson的《洋葱》（The Onion）

翻译：诗验室

他在烤香料，茶色孜然

在生铁锅里变褐色

每周都被他细心调成佐料

它使空气变辣。窗户

敞着，风扇开着，每口呼吸

都在我的胸口灼烧。

有时我不得不出去，坐

在门前冰凉的水泥台阶上，在重新

浸入咖喱味的空气前呼吸

空荡的夜晚。他横着刀刃，切开

蒜瓣，它们的同位素

点亮地板，一股明晃晃的气味。“我

要把它做多辣才合适？”气味不只是气味也是

存在、氛围，而我们

独自在其中。在翠绿色的客厅，我坐着

望向厨房。他的颈部

向砧板弯曲，一只洋葱

开裂，他用力睁开

双眼