王一笑，笔名一笑，生于中国河北。著有诗集《是时间在唱歌》（2011）、《走过就不会忘记》(2008） 。诗歌散见《诗选刊》、《七里海》等刊物。

Wang Yixiao, pen name Yi Xiao. She has published two books of poetry, including Singing of Time (2011) and Never Forget the Paths We've Taken. Her poems have appeared in various magazines, including Poetry Selected in China. She lives in Hebei, China.

Susan Wang，笔名慕鸿，是时代专集的创始人和编辑，曾就读南京大学、复旦大学、美国印第安娜大学、罗萨丽学院。1989年赴美，现居美国加州。

Susan Wang is the founder and editor of Shidai Zhuanji Chinese Literary Collections, a writer Her Chinese pen name is Mu Hong. Susan has studied in Nanjinh University Fudan University, Indiana Univ. Bloomington, Rosary College, River Forest, IL. She came to US from China in 1989 and currently resides in Moraga, California with her family.

春天和她的故事 已振翅飞远

Spring And Her Story, Far Away With Spread Wings

春天和她的故事  振翅飞远了 
但我们留了下来  一起越冬  你看 
满地的落叶  每一片都回不去枝头了 
但我们还在  在时间起伏的胸口筑巢 
放进梦的羽毛和故事的枝叶  它们 
驮着我们经过了那么多的天空 
而每一个天空在清晨都焕然一新 
一只只的风筝  在飞  载着 
橙红 浅绿 深蓝 漆黑 五彩的心情 
我们用脉管里缠绵的歌唱抚慰骨髓的寂寞 
手指说  顺着一根细细的线索攀援吧 
坐在天空的深处  星芒之上 
我们互看  但我们无法用嘴唇交谈  因为 
我们唯一的语言 ——母语 被关进火柴盒了 
那些茂盛如古森林的名词  动词形容词副词叹词 
被削得骨瘦如柴  面目全非  它们 
颤巍巍的身躯  如何承载世界的注视与爱的宣言呢？ 
　　 
但我们 还是要爱 要说出来 
并擦亮每一个字词 
句子之梯 从我们的颅骨伸出来触摸天空 
结实 又干净
			

Spring and her story, far away with spread wings, leaving
Us here, alone, to endure Winter.
See, fallen leaves all around us, none
Could leap back to its branch; yet
Here we are, still building our nests
In the heaving bosom of Time.
We put in feathers of Dream, leaves of Drama:
They've carried us through so many skies, each
Dawning with a bursting freshness. 
Kites, one after another, are flying
High, in red orange, light green, deep blue or jet black --
Colors of our feelings.
Soft songs twining through our veins, reaching 
For bone marrow's loneliness. 
Fingers command, go, and climb up
That thin thread, sit in the depth of Heaven, over
Star lights --
With conversations banished, we could only stare into each other.
Our only language -- our mother tongue, locked away in a
Matchbox. Nouns, once as flourishing as the rain forests, 
Even verbs, adjectives, adverbs, exclamation marks, all peeled and skinned,
they are as tiny as matches, to be recognized no more. 
How could
Such brittle bodies rise to support
World's observations, Love's declarations?

Yet, we are to continue
To Love
We are to strike every word for its fire, to speak Love loud and clear
Ladders of sentences stretch out, from our skulls, 
Reaching for skies.
They are strong, as
They are clean.