Yidan Han

  Contributing Editor:
  Kyle David Anderson

Peter Feng


Peter Feng was born in Chongqing, China, in 1979. He taught English at a Chinese college for two years. He is currently a PhD student at Nanjing University. He has co-translated a travelogue A Journey through the Chinese Empire, Intimate China, a novel The Web and the Rock and a book of translation Poems of Charles Simic. His poems appeared in Chinese poetry journal New World Poetry Bimonthly and others. His study includes poetry, psychoanalysis, and contemporary philosophy.


Peter Feng


The Old Woman

小小的包袱 睡在路边 无声无息 等待抹去的点 蚂蚁绕开她 怕踩到她 她越缩越小 变成透明的线 绷断在 白色的轰鸣中


A small bundle Slept beside the road Without a sound A dot to be erased Ants passed around her Not to step on her She got smaller and smaller Became a transparent thread Snapped In the white roar



超市里的老人将米撒了一地 像犯错的孩子 弯下腰来一颗颗拾起 外面起风了,他蹲在那里 想一些遥远的事情,他一个人 看着这些撒落的米 想哭,仿佛要去追随那些 消失的身影,他已经记不清 这是什么月份,只觉得越来越热 他的面颊在燃烧,外面下雨了 十月的黑暗的雨,模糊的玻璃 米从手掌间滑落,他想在这里躺下 挨着沉重的米,饱满的米 他想在躺卧在巨大的灯光下 他什么也没有买,就买了这袋米 晶莹的白光,他想抓住这白光 但他的手指间全是空隙


An old man spilled a bag of rice on a floor of the supermarket Like a child who had done something wrong thing He bent down and picked them up one by one Wind began to blow outside, he squatted there Thinking of something far off, and looked at The spilled rice, alone He wanted to cry, to follow the figures who Had just disappeared, he could no longer remember What month it was, feeling hotter and hotter His face was burning, it started to rain outside Dark, October rain, staining the glass The rice slipped from his palms, he wanted to lie down here Along the heavy rice, the plump rice He wanted to lie down under the bright light He bought nothing else, just this bag of rice Shimmering crystals, he tried to grasp that shimmer But his fingers were full of space


The Last Night

半夜山上有些声音 巨人们在光秃的树林里打鼓 他们挥动有力的臂膀 把石头垒起来 越垒越高 他们的鼓声和号子声回荡在天上 这时大家都睡着了 红眼睛的精灵从岩石里钻出来 摄走人类的魂魄 让他们睡得很香很甜 有人还梦见 自己的房子越盖越高 娶的媳妇像水一样 只有森林看守员无法入睡 他仿佛听到轰隆的声响 口里觉得干渴 在黑暗中起来找水 望见山上一些巨大的身影在走动 一些火光还有雨 七天七夜的雨 他怀疑这是在梦里 用手电筒朝山上晃了几下 身影消失了仍旧是光秃秃的山坡 乌鸦一掠而过 惟有这雨 落到身上像母亲的手一样温暖 他回到床上 梦见老家的水车在小河旁 嘎吱嘎吱地转着 这是人类最后的夜晚


There were sounds from the mountain at midnight The giants beat their drums in the bare forest Waving strong arms They piled one stone after another Until it got higher and higher Their drum beats and hollers resounded through the forest Everyone was asleep at the moment The genies with red eyes came out from the rocks And took away men’s souls Making them sleep sweetly Someone even dreamed Of his house getting higher And marrying a woman who felt like water Only the forester couldn’t sleep He heard some vague sounds Feeling dry in the mouth Looked for water in darkness He watched huge shadows walking in the mountain Shimmering fire and rain Rain for seven days and seven nights He doubted if this was a dream He waved his flashlight towards the mountain The shadows disappeared and he saw only the bare slopes Ravens flitted by Only this rain Falling on him warmly like mother’s hands He went back to the cot And dreamed of the water wheels along his hometown river Creaking going around This was the last human night

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