Yidan Han

  Contributing Editor:
  Kyle David Anderson

Bruce Meyer

Bruce Meyer is author of thirty four books , including Mesopotamia (2009), Dog Days: A Comedy of Terriers (2009), Alphabet Table (2010), Alphabestiary: A Poetry Emblem Book (with H. Masud Taj, 2011), A Book of Bread (2011), and The Obsession Book of Timbuktu (2013). He is also author of the national bestseller, The Golden Thread: A Reader's Journey Through the Great Books (2000). His broadcasts are the CBC's bestselling spoken word audio series. He is professor of English at Georgian College in Barrie and teaches for Laurentian University, Victoria College in the University of Toronto, and St. Michael's College in the University of Toronto. He is the inaugural Poet Laureate of the City of Barrie.

梅尔是加拿大诗人和评论家,也是Barrie城市的桂冠诗人。他著有34本书籍。他也是全国畅销书的作者。他的广播作品 "伟大的书籍", "新思维" 和 "生活是诗"等成为加拿大国家电台的畅销口语有声读物系列。他是乔治安学院的教授,在多伦多大学以及其他学院教学。


Anna Yin

星子安娜,Anna Yin中国湖南出生。99年移民加拿大,其英文诗多次获奖,其中包括 2005 年安省的“Ted Plantos 纪念奖”和2010 年和2013年 的“Martry文学奖“。星子著有五本诗集,包括《Wings Toward Sunlight》(2011)以及《Inhaling the Silence》(2013)。星子是加拿大诗人联盟安省代表,她工作和居住在安省的密西沙加。

Anna Yin was born in China and immigrated to Canada in 1999. Anna won the 2005 Ted Plantos Memorial Award, the 2010 MARTY Award, etc. She has published five books of poetry. Collections of her poetry Wings Toward Sunlight was published by Mosaic Press in 2011 and Inhaling the Silence was published in 2013. Anna is Ontario representative for the League of Canadian Poets. She works and lives in Mississauga, Ontario.

Vanishing Cream
In memory of Amy Winehouse

回忆Amy Winehouse

At Wevill's house one desert night as I lay reading at the window screen, a moth flew into my lit candle and fell burning like a torch song. By the time I snuffed the flame. wondering if any art was worth a life—even a dumb insect's— only the wings' eyes remained. I watched other moths, less talented, dance and beat themselves helpless against the metal mesh, their flutters the sound of an old film projector running silent movies, unaccompanied, the movements of faces overplayed, each pancaked to reflect a light shine through them to the future. My grandmother would remove her face each night before she went to sleep with a cream that made her ghostly, letting the day vanish as if a miracle— the same way I thought nature sang when I woke at dawn to uneasy steps, my face still pressed against the screen and a doe's eyes staring back at me.


在Wevill家一个寂寞之夜 当我置身窗屏旁阅读, 一只飞蛾飞进我点着的蜡烛 跌落燃烧犹如一把火炬之歌。 等到我掐灭火焰, 寻思着是否有任何艺术值得 付出生命,—哪怕是一只暗哑的虫子— 它现在只余下翅膀上的眼睛。 我看到其他的飞蛾,天分要低些, 飞舞和无助地拍打着翅膀, 撞击着金属网,它们的扑棱声 好似旧式的影片放映机 运转着无声影片,没有伴奏地, 它们面部的动作被夸大, 每一个脂粉饰抹着反射光 通透着它们直到以后。 每天晚上在睡觉之前, 我的祖母会用雪花膏卸 妆,雪花膏让她象鬼一样, 而一天就这样奇迹般消失— 同样奇妙地,清晨我在不安的步声中 醒来,我以为大自然在歌唱, 那时我的脸依然紧压着窗屏, 而一只母鹿正瞪视着我。

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