Editor-in-Chief:
  Yidan Han


Patrick Dunn
派崔克-丹纳

Patrick Dunn is an assistant professor of British Literature at Aurora University, Illinois. He writes poetry and nonfiction and has published two books: Postmodern Magic: The Art of Magic in the Information Age and Magic Power Language Symbol: A Magician's Explanation of Linguistics.

派崔克-丹纳是伊利诺州阿罗拉大学的英国文学助理教授。他写诗及商业性的写实文学,并出版了两本书:《后现代魔术:资讯时代魔术艺术 》与《魔力语言符号:一个魔术师对语言学的诠释》。



译者
Translator


William Marr (Fei Ma)
非马

诗人非马出版有十四本诗集 (除《秋窗 》是英文外,其它都是中文) 以及几本翻译,包括双语诗选《让盛宴开始──我喜爱的英文诗》。他还编选出版了几本台湾及中国现代诗选。他是前任伊利诺州诗人协会的会长,现居芝加哥。

William Marr (Fei Ma) is the author of fourteen books of poetry (all in his native Chinese language except Autumn Window which is in English) and several books of translations, including the bilingual anthology Let the Feast Begin—My Favorite English Poems.  He has also edited and published several anthologies of contemporary Taiwanese and Chinese poetry.  A longtime resident of Chicago, he served from 1993 to 1995 as the president of the Illinois State Poetry Society.

Quartet In A Minor, Op. 132

A 小调四重奏,作品132号

At this startling, awful peal of thunder, the dying man suddenly raised his head and stretched out his right arm majestically, 'like a general giving orders to an army.' This was but for an instant; the arm sank down; he fell back. Beethoven was dead. ––A. W. Thayer Always I wrote for someone to love me, My Juliette, my Josephine, and you –– A golden ribbon to trace through Darkness and my spasms of rage. I wrote So you might smooth my wild hair, my chin, My weak lips pulsing like a sparrow. I wrote so you might sing my name, and I, in the bosom of the fog, might see, Your lips carve out a double pulse With the kissing flutter in the middle. I sculpted time into the curve of your wrists, Each chord a way of stroking your hands. When the slow jaws of silence closed around, I saw you, a flash of lightning in the gloom, Felt the thunder of your voice in my bed, And reached up my hand to seize at last The fast waning filaments of light In the tumbling strands of your hair.

 

在这吓人的、可怕的雷声中,濒死的人突然抬起头来,庄 重地伸出了他的右臂,“像一个将军给军队下命令”。这只 是一瞬间的事;手臂垂落;他向后倒了下去。贝多芬死了。 ——A. W. 塞尔 我写作总是为了让人爱我, 我的朱丽叶,我的约瑟芬,还有你— 一条金色缎带追溯 黑暗与我的阵阵怒潮。我写作 这样你也许会抚平我的乱发,我的下巴, 我虚弱的唇搏动如一只麻雀。 我写作这样你也许会歌唱我的名字, 而我,在雾怀中,也许能看到, 你的唇拓展出双脉 中间是吻的微颤。 我把时间刻入你腕部的弧线, 每个和弦是抚摸你的手的一种方式。 当沉默的颚缓缓闭拢, 我看到你,幽暗中的一个闪电, 感觉到你雷霆的声音在我床上, 我终于将手伸上抓住 迅速衰退的光线 在你甩荡的发绺里。

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