胡弦（1966—）， 江苏铜山人，现居南京。著有诗集《阵雨》（2010）等。曾获《诗刊》“新世纪十佳青年诗人”称号（2009），诗集《阵雨》获紫金山文学奖（2011）、徐志摩诗歌奖（2012）；诗作获《芳草》第二届“汉语诗歌双年十佳”奖（2010）、闻一多诗歌奖（2011 ）、《作品》年度长诗金奖（2011）、《十月》年度诗歌奖（2012）、“第一朗读者”最佳诗人奖（2012）、《现代青年》十佳青年诗人奖（2013）、《时代文学》年度诗歌奖（2013）、柔刚诗歌奖（2014）等。
Hu Xian, born in Tong Shan County, Jiangsu Province in 1966. Editor of The Yangtze Poetry Journal in Nanjing. Member of Writers Association of China. His publications include a book of poetry Ten Year of Light (2007) and Shower (2010). A book of prose: Food and Its Anecdotes (2008). He is the recipient of the following awards: The Top Ten Young Poets of the New Century(2009), The Biennial Top Ten Poetry Award (2010), The Poetry Prize of Wen Yiduo (2011), The Yearly Golden Prize (2011),The Purple Mountain Poetry Award (2011) and many others.
Ziqing Zhang is professor of Institute of Foreign Literature, Nanjing University, Nanjing, guest research Fellow of Chinese American Literature Research Center, Beijing University of Foreign Studies, Beijing. He was a visiting scholar as a post-doctoral fellow at Harvard University from 1982 to 1983 and Fulbright Scholar at Harvard University and The University of California at Berkeley from 1993 to 1994. His works include A History of 20th Century American Poetry (1995, 1997), Selected Poems of T.S.Eliot (1985), Selected American Poems (1993) and Birthday Letters by Ted Hughes (1998). He has co-authored Two Sides of the Globe: Contemporary Chinese and American Literatures and Their Comparison (1993) and On American New Pastoral Poems (2006). He has received many awards including The First Prize of Humanities Research Science Foundation of Nanjing University in 1998.
An unexpected visit.
I drop in to see you as I come here
by the way, said the knife.
No blade was shown in what it had said.
“Sorry to disturb you,” the knife said
while casting a sharp eye on me when it left.
As many people's old friend, the knife
does not demand much from people
except leaving some faint scars on them.
But you have never felt the pain, when
the knife disappeared from your past.
The pain I can't describe is a ladder,
The pain I can't describe is the handrail-on-the-ladder,
The pain I can't describe is the sound of footsteps echoing in the mind.
The pain I can't describe starts from the ground
Rises fifteen meters
Hangs suspended in air.
The short-sighted spider is hungry, and busy looking
for food by feeling the vibrations of its net.
Afraid of it's net being destroyed,
the spider is repairing it all the time.
The storm is coming, and the tree shaking
while it's door and windows are all open.
The spider has never has never had eight directions appear
in life though it has eight slim legs.
It does not eat much in fact
the mucus it spits is already beyond
the weight of it's internal organs.
Praying for a world that would change
more slowly, haunted with fear,
and with venom hidden in its heart
the spider runs to-and-fro hurriedly
to capture smaller and weaker creatures.