Thomas Eisenbeiser grew up on a Michigan farm with cattle sheep and horses. He rode horseback most every day. At age 17 he began traveling and has lived in Russia, Germany, Italy, England, France and Mexico. He got two master’s degrees from University of Michigan and published two books of poems: A Gathering of Rites (1979) and Crafted (1981). In recent years he divides his time between Nanjing and Ann Arbor.

托马斯-艾森拜仁在美国密歇根州的农场里长大，从小与牛羊为伴，以骑马为乐。17岁开始周游四方，曾旅居俄国、德国、意大利、英国、法国、墨西哥。艾森拜仁从密歇根大学获两个硕士学位，曾出版诗集《仪式的搜集》（1979）以及《手艺》（1981），近年来往返于中国南京与密歇根州安阿伯市。

冯冬，1979年生于重庆，当过大学英文教师，南京大学英文博士班学生，曾译过游记《中华帝国纪行》、《亲密接触中国》、小说《蛛网与磐石》、诗歌《西米克的诗》等，在《新大陆》等诗刊上发表过作品，主要研究诗歌、精神分析和当代哲学。

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.

Cholutla Promise

修罗拉的誓言

With this umbrella will I fish for your face
Through the dusty streets of Cholutla arguing
The virtue of masques, the evil of leaving no trace;

With this staff scenting your breath and your sweet oils
Trace the drippings of your smile through the desert,
reading like maps the faces of frightened boys.
 
With this belt I saddle my pony and mount your tracks
Cooling in deserted sands vanishing like manna.
Pieces of your djallaba were found; I’ll never relax.
 
With this search as with any there’s sacrifice,
Even moments of doubt in the hypnotic sun
As I question strangers, sweating, scratching at lice,
 
With this chart I’ve encoded from your notes
I travel the environs of Cholutla,
Learning humility and patience, each day a little closer,
Retracing your steps, bowing down among goats.
			

我带着这把伞穿越修罗拉
布满尘土的街道，寻找你的容颜，
争论面具的善与无迹可寻的恶；

我用这杖嗅出你的呼吸，你的体香，
追踪你撒落在沙漠里的笑容，
我阅读受惊男孩的脸庞如地图。

用这皮带我装好小马鞍，踏上你的路途，
足迹于沙中冷却，消失如吗哪，
我找到你长袍的碎片；我永不懈怠。 

任何的追寻意味着牺牲，
太阳催眠我，使我几度疑惑，
我流着汗，抓虱子，问陌生人，

从你提示中我绘出加密航图，
穿越修罗拉地带，
我学会谦卑与忍耐，每日愈近，
找回你的足迹，在羊群中低头。
			

Five Seasons of Dinali

迪纳利的五个季节

Five seasons of Dinali gone without you about.
Wordlessly my elephant stands at chain
Leg anchored, swaying gently; cooing his mahout
Brushes his wrinkled dark folds in the dusky rain.
 
Another autumn paints paths red gold again here in Srinagar,
We polish floors, each morning expecting your arrival,
Your smile the same, your hair now parted graying, you say you’re
Seeing a vision, a ghost perhaps, our virtual idea without rival.
 
Even so we’ve survived as two thousand nights elapsed
When equally, as many dawns and evenings got pawned
As rings of jade, fey treasures accompanied with shaggy old maps;
We grafted blushing dimes onto our collars grasping for common ground.
 
We lost a match, as sands drifted, blood dissolved in oceans
While our separate selves blended into such wild potions.
			

迪纳利的五个季节过去了，没有你。
我的大象无言地站在锁链里，
腿被锚定，温柔地摇摆；对象夫低语，
黄昏的雨里他刷洗深色褶皱。

又一个秋天把斯利那加的小径漆成金黄。
我们擦亮地板，每个清晨期待你到来，
你的微笑依旧，你的头发灰白，你说你
看见一个幽灵，那是我们无敌的幻想。

我们终究活过了两千个夜晚，
无数清晨与黄昏已被玉镯一样典当，
显灵的宝藏，发毛的旧地图；
我们把脸红的银币谋取到衣领上。

我们失去对方，如沙漂流如血融入大海，
我们分离的自我混合成狂热魔药。