Bilingual Readings of Winter '23 Issue

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

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

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。

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”.

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。

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.

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

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

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 bodymajestic)

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 dreamsand 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。