Yidan Han

  Contributing Editor:
  Kyle David Anderson

Yin Gang


Yin Gang(1970-): Born in Jiangsu Province. National registered urban planner. Verse Publications: The Scenery as Usual (2013) and People Are Hurrying to and fro (2015). Poetry Reading Audio Collections: Eternal Love (2015) and The Beauty of Desolation (2015). Lives in Shanghai.


Ziqing Zhang

张子清是南京大学外国文学研究所教授,北京外国语大学华裔美国文学研究中心客座研究员。哈佛-燕京访问学者(1982-83),美国富布莱特访问学者(1993-94)。中国作家协会会员、全国美国文学研究会常务理事、中国比较文学学会会员。代表作:《20世纪美国诗歌史》(1995,1997)。主编 “华裔美国小说丛书”(译林出版社)、“西方人看中国丛书”(南京出版社)。

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.


Touch the Wounds of Autumn, and Another Poem

人们轻易撕开秋天的躯壳 流血的除了身心还有精灵和鬼魅 某一天 我们的尸骸将堆成起伏的山丘 黑夜时常抚摸潮湿的伤口 疼痛,如河底的淤泥 水流有多光滑 它的手就有多么的冰凉


People easily tear open the shell of autumn it bleed physically and mentally together with elves and ghosts One day Our corpses will be piled up like rolling hills The night often strokes the wet wounds Pain feels like the river bottom mud How smooth the water flows How cold its hands are


A Redemptive Attempt

我轻轻搅动太极 驱赶着漩涡 想让它们游向你的所在 我从不信任向日葵预测的方向 有时我也在采药人的峭壁上 分辨你留在风中的低语 还魂草就在脚下 我选择视而不见 那么多的燕子 都是从山脚游上来的鱼 山羊总是在模仿猎鹰的俯冲 一个接一个的跳崖 旋转的迷雾深处 藏着致命的虚无 在盛满泪水的脚印里放生 你每走一步便超度了无数的死囚


I gently stir Tai Chi driving the whirlpools and try to let them swim to where you are I never trust the direction that the sunflower forecasts Sometimes, I also climb up on the cliffs where the rhizotomist collects herbs and try to distinguish the whispers you've left in the wind The resurrection plants are under my feet but I try to ignore them So many swallows are like the fish that swim up from the foot of hill Goats always imitate the falcon's dive jumping off the cliff one after another The fatal nothingness is hidden in the depth of the whirling mist Setting free the captives in your footprints filled with tears You've expiated the sins of numerous condemned prisoners when you walk each step

Copyright © 2005-2018 by Poetrysky.com. All rights reserved.