Editor-in-Chief:
  Yidan Han

  Contributing Editor:
  Kyle David Anderson


郭永秀
Quek Yong Siu

新加坡诗人,作曲家。著有诗集《掌纹》、《筷子的故事》、《月光小夜曲》、散文《壁虎之恋》。现任新加坡作家协会理事,五月诗社社长、作曲家协会会长等职务。诗曲曾多次获奖。

Quek Yong Siu, poet and composer in Singapore. He has published poetry collections Palm Lines, The Story of Chopsticks, Moonlight Serenade, prose collection The Romance of Gecko and music commentary Remnant Rhyme. He is the committee member of the Singapore Writers Association, the vice-president of the Association of Composers (Singapore) and the Chinese Instrumental Music Society. He has received many awards in poetry and music.



译者
Translator


郭永秀
Quek Yong Siu

一首诗的完成

Completion Of A Poem

大提琴袅袅的余音① 委曲而固执地在大厅内 转来转去,像一则守不住的秘密 终于漏入我的书房中 撩弄着我的思绪 我换一个伏案的姿势 放下手中齿痕累累的笔 祗见那琴音,跌跌撞撞 在我满桌紊乱的文稿中 四处寻寻觅觅,寻不到栖身之所 最后,悲愤地绕过我疲乏但兴奋的 侧面,依依不舍飘向窗外 这是星期六早上十点钟 我推开窗,听窗外那株菩提树上 两只黄胸的小鸟 为现实主义和现代主义 相持不下,我思索再三 终于下了最大的决心 把案上几页零落的诗稿 揉成一团,投入 字纸篓贪婪的大口中 然后将思绪重新调整 下笔,如大提琴延绵不绝的吟哦 诗成,祗见对面组屋玻璃窗上 映着一个黄澄澄的朝阳 金光粲亮,如我此刻的心情 树上那两只争得面红耳赤的 小鸟,早已不知去向 (注):①星期六早上,是丽拉大提琴的时间.

 

The curling music left by the cello Turns back and forth In grievance with obstinacy in the hall Like a secret unable to keep Finally sieving into my study room Stirring my thinking I change to another gesture at the desk Laying down the pen with teeth imprints Then the sound of cello, stumbling Into the mess of my scriptures, on the table Searching everywhere but fail to find a dwelling place Finally, it grievously wound thru my tired but excited Side, flying out of the window, reluctant to leave This was ten o'clock on Saturday morning I pushed open the window listening to the two yellow birds On the banyan outside of the window Arguing about the merits and demerits of realism and modernism Without settlement, I thought it over and over Finally making the biggest decision To crush the pages of scattered poetic scripture on my desk Into one grip, thrown into The big and greedy mouth of the dustbin Then realigning my thoughts To write as the lingered singing cello A poem written at last, on the glass window of the opposite flat A yellowish morning sun was reflected With the bright shining golden light, just as my mood at this moment And the two little birds arguing with flush on face Had long disappeared Note: Saturday morning is the time for Way Lie to exercise cello playing.

晚餐时间

Dinner Time

一阵惊呼—— 自厨房的大镬内传来,紧接着 噼哩吧喇一阵骚动 身在水深火热之中,蒜泥葱花 仍不断刺激我的胃口 而且越炒越炽,像我的食欲 我忍不住搁下手中 一册未完的故事,蹑足 走向你的长发 厨房内,吸煙机气喘吁吁 拼命吮吸镬内的精华 你一手持镬,一手持铲 来回翻炒,如泡制一首过时的口号诗 我驻足观望,分不出 是发香还是莱香 伸手拿起桌上一双等得不耐烦的 筷子,一片滋滋呼痛的肉 应声而起,抚慰我 辘辘的饥肠 微波炉内,那尾鱼 双目由透明转白,终于 再也看不见这有情的世界 相邻的瓷盘中,两只螃蟹 举起绝望的双螯,惺惺相惜 它们始终弄不明白 无火无镬,为何就在那一瞬间 由活脱脱的黑,变成 香喷喷的红 煤气炉上一窝热氛腾腾的 咸菜豆腐湯,开始自艾自怨嘀嘀咕咕 最后是翻天覆地嚎啕痛哭 而静静蛰伏一旁的电饭锅 却眯着单眼、顶着八个月的大肚子 斯斯文文地抽着白米牌的 香煙,且用锅盖轻轻打着拍子 提醒我们:请赶快准备妥当 这是晚餐时间

 

A loud screaming-- Coming from the big wok in the kitchen, immediately followed by A stirring Pilipala Located in the epicenter of fire and water, sliced garlic and segmented onions Is still stimulating my appetite And becoming more and more fervent like my desire for food I can't help but put down The unfinished story, creeping Toward your long hair Inside the kitchen, extractor is gasping To suck in the essence from the wok You hold the wok with one hand and the slice with the other Stirring back and forth like making an outdated slogan I stop to look, unable to distinguish The fragrance of hair and that of vegetable odor Reaching out the hand for a pair of chopsticks waiting impatiently A piece of meat at the moment comes right up to Comfort my suffering hunger Inside the microwave oven, the fish Two eyes turn from crystal into white, finally Unable to see the affectionate world In the neighboring porcelain plate of China, two crabs Raising desperate pincers, showing mutual sympathy They never get to understand With no fire and no wok They transform instantly from live darkness into Fragrant redness A pot of steaming pickled bean curd soup on the gas stove Starts to complain in muttering At last it becomes shout of crying stirring the earth and sky But the electric pot silently lying aside Narrowing its single eye with a big stomach of eight months pregnancy Elegantly smoking the cigarette of white rice brand And beating gently with the lid of the pot Reminding us: please hurry to get ready It's dinner time

电视机

Television

给你一些—— 人工的颜彩;一些 可调的亮度;一些 坐下来,顿成瘫痪的 快意和刺激 我不经意地 愚弄你的视觉和听觉 我叫你笑叫你哭叫你疯狂 以连场的歌舞,以 缠脚布的连续剧 而你乐此不倦 夜夜,驰骋在我小小的四方城中 你永不自觉 年少时的理想和抱负 早已在我万变的容颜里 悄悄化成 一缕袅袅的轻烟……

 

Give you some -- Artificial color; some Adjustable brightness; some Joy and excitement Collapsing immediately after sitting down I unintentionally Fool your sight and your hearing I make you laugh, cry and drive you crazy With no-end dancing and singing, with Sitcom of tiring redundancy But you're happy and not tired Night after night, galloping in the little square city of mine You never are aware Of the ambition and aspiration when young Have long been stealthily turned into Strings of curling light smoke In my changeable countenance…

Copyright © 2005-2017 by Poetrysky.com. All rights reserved.
版权声明