Mark Wagner is a teacher and a writer. He lives on a micro farm in Dudley, Massachusetts. He is currently President of the Worcester County Poetry Association. In summer 2008, he taught in Hangzhou, China. He is the author of A Cabin in a Field (Mellen Poetry Press, 2001), and has published a collection of essay and photographs on baldness called Silkheads (1999). His dissertation –– Sources of the Communicative Body (2007) was published by RMIT Press.

瓦格纳是教师和作家，现任伍斯特县诗歌协会主席。他住在麻省达德利小农场。2008年夏天，曾在杭州某高校执教。诗集：《田野里的小屋》（2001）；散文与摄影集：《光头》（1999）；论著：《联络体的来源》（2007）。

Ziqing Zhang is professor of Institute of Foreign Literature, Nanjing University, Nanjing, guest research Fellow of Chinese American Literature Research Center, Beijing University of Foreign Studies, Beijing. He was a visiting scholar as a post-doctoral fellow at Harvard University from 1982 to 1983 and Fulbright Scholar at Harvard University and The University of California at Berkeley from 1993 to 1994. His works include A History of 20th Century American Poetry (1995, 1997), Selected Poems of T.S.Eliot (1985), Selected American Poems (1993) and Birthday Letters by Ted Hughes (1998). He has co-authored Two Sides of the Globe: Contemporary Chinese and American Literatures and Their Comparison (1993) and On American New Pastoral Poems (2006). He has received many awards including The First Prize of Humanities Research Science Foundation of Nanjing University in 1998.

张子清是南京大学外国文学研究所教授，北京外国语大学华裔美国文学研究中心客座研究员。哈佛-燕京访问学者（1982-83），美国富布莱特访问学者（1993-94）。中国作家协会会员、全国美国文学研究会常务理事、中国比较文学学会会员。代表作：《20世纪美国诗歌史》（1995，1997）。主编 “华裔美国小说丛书”（译林出版社）、“西方人看中国丛书”（南京出版社）。

Walcott

沃尔科特

Cannon fire of colonial wars
Echo off lonely volcanoes in the west.
In a shack as frigate birds hover over lunch
A firm hand dots a declarative line
For justice, and, in a Shadow's arm,
Writes what's on a hemisphere's mind.
			

殖民战争的炮火像孤零零的火山
在西方反射出去。小棚屋旁，
午餐时分，军舰鸟在上空盘旋。
一只坚定的手，为正义
在宣言式诗行打上句号，
在一只手臂的阴影中，
写出西半球人的所思所想。

* 德里克-沃尔科特（Derek Wallcot,1930-）：加勒比
诗人，1992年获诺贝尔文学奖。
			

New Year's Day

元旦

Here the mist stories high
A calligraphy of trees sewn
Onto a page of the fog
In the swamp. 
I said goodbye to my home
And rode the train to town.

Train seats pot the silver hull 
Vroom on rails as worn as whores.
Beside the unuttering,
Knowing enough not to speak
Above the hum, I watched the mass
Of villages slide behind;
How perpetual change undoes
What the efforts of our kind
Spun: techno- efficiencies
Why, a kind of delight,
But not enough to convince me of
A readable world (Let alone 
The final triumph of the just).


War punctuates my dreams,
Weapons in scale and scope which
Betray life: guns hope in guns.
Guns believe and adore in guns.
Here's Eden under shadow's sword
And the urge and energy we trace 
Is this: we read our own palms
In part, and so move the point
To a term between nothingness
And god, and so my psalm -- 


In the heart of nature's heart
Her ancient spells interpolate
Enchantments, some of a wondrous sort.
And in that uncoded alphabet
I saw in the New Year's crowd 
Coats surround the old charities; 
Shaloms said in every time
And circumstance; unnamed
The faces of tender mercies.
			

这里的雾堆积得很浓，
中国书法似的树林
装订进沼泽地
浓雾的书页里。
我告别我的家，
乘火车到城里去。

车座吸纳银色车厢与铁轨
摩擦造成令人厌倦的噪音。
除了不说出什么之外，
完全知道别在噪音里
高声大嗓，我望着
密集的村庄朝后滑去；
想到永久的变化如何解开
我们人类的杰作——科技效率,
嘿, 是一种愉快,
但是不足以让我相信
一个易懂的世界(更不必说
正义的最终胜利).

战争不时地打断我的梦想,
在等级和规模上背叛生命的
武器: 枪炮里寄予枪炮的希望。
枪炮里寄予枪炮的信念和崇拜。
这里是黑暗暴力之剑下的伊甸园，
我们追寻的迫切要求和能力是：
我们解读我们自己的部分掌纹，
所以，我们前移纹路限度，
移到虚空与上帝之间，
移到虚空与我的歌之间——

在大自然中心的中心，
她古老的咒语增添着
魅力，有一些很奇妙，
以难以解读的语言出现。
在纽约拥挤的人群中，我见到
那古老的慈善事业披着外衣；
在每次每个情况下，和平说话了；
我对一张张慈祥的面孔并未指明。