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李少君
Li Shaojun

李少君,1967年11月生,湖南湘乡人,1989年毕业于武汉大学新闻系,主要著作有《草根集》、《诗歌读本:三十二首诗》、《蓝吧》、《那些消失了的人》等,主编《21世纪诗歌精选》,诗作入选数十种选本,并被翻译成英、瑞典、韩等文字。主张的诗歌“草根性”已成为21世纪汉语诗歌关键词,被誉为“自然诗人”,现为《诗刊》杂志副主编。

Li Shaojun was born in Hunan province in November 1967. He graduated from the Department of Journalism of Wuhan University. His published poetry collections include A Collection of Grassroots, A Poetry Reader: Thirty-two Poems, Be Blue, and Those Vanishing People. He also edited the anthology Selected Poetry from the Twenty-first Century. His works have been translated into English, Swedish and Korean. He advocates “grassroots-ness” of poetry, which has become a key word of twenty-first century Chinese poetry. He was known as a natural poet, He is currently Vice editor-in-chief of Poetry Periodical.



译者
Translator


Brendan Higginbottom
韩任德

Brendan Higginbottom studied Chinese Language and Literature and Creative writing at the University of Kansas, graduating in December 2015. He currently lives and writes in Lawrence,Kansas.

Brendan Higginbottom (韩任德) 二〇一五年十二月毕业于堪萨斯大学, 主修了中文与创意写作。他住在堪萨斯州的劳伦斯。

抒怀

Confessions

树下,我们谈起各自的理想 你说你要为山立传,为水写史 我呢,只想拍一套云的写真集 画一幅窗口的风景画   (间以一两声鸟鸣) 以及一帧家中小女的素描 当然,她一定要站在院子里的木瓜树下

 

Under the tree, we spoke of our dreams You want to write the mountain's biography, water's history Me, I want to shoot the cloud's portfolio Paint the window's scenery (joined by a few bird chirps) and sketch the family's little girl Of course, she'll have to stand under the papaya tree in the yard

傍晚

Dusk

傍晚,吃饭了 我出去喊仍在林子里散步的老父亲 夜色正一点一点地渗透 黑暗如墨汁在宣纸上蔓延 我每喊一声,夜色就被推开推远一点点 喊声一停,夜色又聚集围拢了过来 我喊父亲的声音 在林子里久久回响 又在风中如波纹般荡漾开来 父亲的答应声 使夜色似乎明亮了一下

 

Dusk, dinner time I call out to my father, still walking in the forest The dark of night is seeping in slowly Like ink on a piece of fine paper With my every yell, dusk is pushed back and away some Stopping, it again pools and gathers back The call to my father Echoes on and on in the forest Undulating back like waves in the wind The sound of his reply Seems to make the night brighten a bit

神降临的小站

The Small Stop Where Spirits Descend

三五间小木屋   泼溅出一两点灯火 我小如一只蚂蚁 今夜滞留在呼仑贝尔大草原中央   的一个无名小站 独自承受凛冽孤独但内心安宁 背后,站着猛虎般严酷的初冬寒夜 再背后,横着一条清晰而空旷的马路 再背后,是缓缓流淌的额尔古纳河   在黑暗中它亮如一道白光 再背后,是一望无际的简洁的白桦林   和枯寂明净的苍茫荒野 再背后,是低空静静闪烁的星星   和蓝绒绒的温柔的夜幕 再背后,是神居住的广大的北方

 

Several small wooden houses scatter a few dots of light I'm as small as an ant Held up here in the middle of a vast Mongolian prairie at an unnamed stop Enduring the frigid loneliness, but also inwardly content Behind me, tiger-like prowls the early winter night Further, a distinct, empty path scribbles on Further, the slow flowing Argun river a blazing beam in the dim night Further, an expanse of terse white birch trees and the bored murky wild Further, against the soft blue curtains of night stars flicker lowly in the sky Even further, the northward expanse where the spirits reside

轻雷

Light Thunder

她说在窗前听轻雷掠过云层 渴望着长久酷暑之后的一场雷阵雨 我说你是内心求变,心思早已蠢蠢欲动 几十分钟过去,我问雷阵雨来没 她说没来,正在院子里散步 我说雷阵雨不来,我就来了 她说是呢,你比雷阵雨还要猛烈呢

 

She said she listened to soft thunder sweep through layered clouds by the window Thirsting for a thunderstorm after the long hot summer I said you inwardly want change, thoughts that have long since wriggled out Ninety minutes pass, I ask if the storm came She said no, she is out walking in the garden I said that since no storm came, I would come instead She said alright, you're more intense than a storm

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