Editor-in-Chief:
  Yidan Han

  Contributing Editor:
  Kyle David Anderson


Yidan Han
绿音

韩怡丹,笔名绿音。生于中国福建。著有诗集《临风而立》(1993)、《绿音诗选》(2004,中英双语)和《静静地飞翔》(2008)。主编《诗天空当代华语诗选,2005-2006》双语版(2007)和《诗天空当代美国诗选,2005-2008》双语版 (2009),并参与编著五本中国古诗文评点译析导读书籍。《诗天空》(Poetry Sky)双语季刊创始人及主编。其中英文诗散见于《诗刊》《创世纪》《普罗维登斯日报》《科罗拉多评论》等。她现居美国新罕布什州。

Yidan Han is the author of three books of poetry, including Standing against the Wind (1993), Selected Poems of Green Voice (2004, bilingual), and Flying in Silence (2008). She is the editor of The PoetrySky Anthology of Contemporary Chinese Poetry, 2005-2006 (2007), The PoetrySky Anthology of Contemporary American Poetry 2005-2008 (2009), and a coauthor of five academic books that explore classical Chinese poetry. Her Chinese and English poems have appeared in various literary journals and anthologies in China, United States and other countries, including The Providence Journal, Colorado Review, and Shi Kan. She is the founder and editor-in-chief of Poetry Sky. She lives in New Hampshire.



译者
Translator


绿音
Yidan Han

与空杯对饮

Drinking with an Empty Glass

我望着 一个空空的透明酒杯 我的手指 徘徊在酒杯边缘 像环绕着漫长的海岸线 曾经有酒 一片绛红色的海 波涛汹涌 那时我们面前是海 身后是墓地 一片百合 怒放于 一个稍纵即逝的夏 此刻 酒杯里盛满了海水 秋正阑珊

 

Far away, I look at an empty glass. My fingers linger around the edge of the glass as if lingering around a long, wandering coastline. Once there was wine, there was a claret sea. Waves surging. The sea was in front of us. Graves behind. Lilies blooming ardently, a fleeting summer. Now the glass is filled with sea water. Autumn is coming to an end.

十月午后

October Afternoon

阳光在百叶窗上来回踱步 一脚轻一脚重 屋里忽明忽暗 令人如在时空里穿梭 透过百叶窗望去 葡萄藤上, 一大半的 叶子已经枯黄 而远处灰色的屋顶上方 深红和金黄的叶子 燃烧着 最美的季节已经来临 却仿佛正转身离去 草地依然是绿的 上面总会有一些落叶 提醒人们,秋的帷幕已经拉开 蓝鸟在不远处发出阵阵悲鸣 其尖利的叫声 与一个在树下叮当作响的风铃 的悦耳音乐混合在一起 花儿们相继离去了 一只蝴蝶趴在 最后一朵紫兰色的花上 享受着最后的午餐 之后, 它将飞向哪里

 

Sunshine saunters back and forth across the blinds, one foot light, another heavy. Inside, suddenly bright, suddenly dark, as if I were shuttling between space and time Looking through the blinds, I see the vine more than half its leaves withered yellow Far away, above the gray roof, Leaves burn crimson and golden. The most beautiful season has arrived though it seems as if it has already turned to leave. Grass, still green, on which leaves scatter, The reminder that autumn has begun. Blue jays burst with lament not far away, their sharp calls blend with the sweet music of jingling chimes underneath a tree. Flowers fall one by one. A butterfly Perched on a lone violet, enjoys its last supper. Where will it now fly?

故乡

Hometown

是越想越模糊的那条 乡间小路 是越望越明亮的那轮 中秋月 是染千年佛光的古寺 是披万里风尘的家书 是子规声里 流不尽的小桥流水 是斜风细雨中 看不够的雕梁画栋 是躲在墙角 吟不完的那只蛐蛐 是杏花村内 剪不断的缕缕炊烟 是吹不成调的芦笛 淌不成声的银河 是永远走不完的那条乡间小路 是越望越近的那轮中秋月 是长在心头的那棵银杏 郁郁苍苍 每逢深秋 便写满一地的 相思

 

It's the country road that gets vaguer and vaguer when you think of it It's the mid-autumn moon that gets brighter and brighter when you look at it It's the ancient temple bathed in the light of the Buddha It's the letter from home across thousands of miles It's the stream under the bridge flowing endlessly It's the carved beams and painted rafters never faded in slanting wind and fine rain It's the cricket hiding in the corner of the wall singing constantly It's the wisp of kitchen smoke in the apricot flower village that cannot be cut off It's the reed, tuneless It's the milky way, out of voice It's the country road you can never find the end of It's the mid-autumn moon that gets closer and closer when you look at It's the gingko growing from your heart green and verdant Every year in late autumn it will write its yearnings fully on the ground

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