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  Kyle David Anderson


胡弦
Hu Xian

胡弦,1966年生,现居南京,《扬子江诗刊》执行主编。出版诗集《阵雨》(2010)、《寻墨记》(2015)、《沙漏》(2016),散文集《菜蔬小语》(2008)、《永远无法返乡的人》(2016)等。曾获诗刊社“新世纪十佳青年诗人”称号(2009)、闻一多诗歌奖(2011 )、《作品》年度长诗金奖(2011)、徐志摩诗歌奖(2012)、《十月》年度诗歌奖(2012)、《诗刊》年度诗歌奖(2014)、中国诗歌排行榜2014-2015年度奖(2015)、花地文学榜年度诗人(2017)等。

Hu, Xian, born in 1966 and live in Nanjing, executive editor-in-chief of Yangtze River Poetry. He has published the following books of poetry: Rain (2010), Ink (2015), Hourglass (2016); as well as the complete work of prose Words of Vegetables. He was awarded “Ten Best Young Poets of the New Century” (2009), The Wen Yiduo Poetry Award (2011), The Xu Zhimo Poetry Award (2012), The October Literature Magazine Annual Poetry Award (2012), Poetry Magazine Poetry Award (2014), China Poetry Ranking 2014-2015 Annual Poetry Award (2015), Flower Garden Annual Poetry Award Poet of the Year (2017), and more.



译者
Translator


谢炯
Joan Xie

谢炯, 60年代出生在上海。 80年代毕业于上海交通大学管理系。 1988年留学美国,后取得企业管理MBA硕士和法律博士JD学位。2014年底恢复写作。曾在美和著名旅美艺术家郑连杰合作出版诗画集《半世纪的旅途》和散文集《蓦然回首》。诗作发表在《桃花源诗季微刊》,《扬子江诗刊》等。

Joan Xie was born in Shanghai in 1960s. She attended Shanghai Jiaotong University, earning a BA While there. She came to the United States in 1988 to study, earning both an MBA and JD. Her publications include a Half-Century Journey ( 2015, co-authored with Lianjian Zheng) and essay collection Looking Back (2016). Her poems in Chinese have appeared in Peach Blossom Poetry, Yangtze River Poetry Revue and Lips.


Sam Perkins

Sam Perkins是纽约作家和诗人。 作为常年的杂志编辑和作家,他的非小说性作品已经得到广泛的出版,特别令人注目的是长期在“纽约时报”发表。 他多年来是“读者文摘国际版”的作家兼编辑,也是杂志“巴黎欧洲编辑部”的高级编辑。 他曾在法国,德国和美国就学,毕业于哈佛大学英语系。

Sam Perkins is a writer and poet based in New York City. A longtime magazine editor and writer, Perkins' nonfiction features have been widely published, notably in the New York Times. He was for many years a writer and editor for Reader's Digest International Editions and a Senior Editor in the magazine's European Editorial Office in Paris. Perkins attended school in France, Germany and the United Sates. He graduated with honors in English from Harvard University.

平武读山记

Reading Mountains in Pingwu

我爱这一再崩溃的山河,爱危崖 如爱乱世。 岩层倾斜,我爱这 犹被盛怒掌控的队列。 ……回声中,大地 猛然拱起。我爱那断裂在空中的力, 以及它捕获的 关于伤痕和星辰的记忆。 我爱绝顶,也爱那从绝顶 滚落的巨石一如它 爱着深渊:一颗失败的心,余生至死, 爱着沉沉灾难。

 

I love the mountains and rivers that once again collapse, and love the dangerous cliffs just like the troubled times. Rocks tilted, I love the order that is controlled by fury. ………In echo, the earth suddenly arched. I love the force broken in the air, and the memory of the scars and stars it captured. I love the mountain top, but also love the giant stone rolling down from the top as if for its love of the abyss: A failed heart, for the rest of his life loves great disasters.

春风斩

Spring Wind Beheading

河谷伸展。小学校的旗子 噼啪作响。 有座小寺,听说已走失在昨夜山中。 牛羊散落,树桩孤独, 石头里,住着永远无法返乡的人。 转经筒在转动,西部多么安静。仿佛 能听见地球轴心的吱嘎声。 风越来越大,万物变轻, 这漫游的风,带着鹰隼、沙砾、碎花瓣、 歌谣的住址和前程。 风吹着高原小镇的心。 春来急,屠夫在洗手,群山惶恐, 湖泊拖着磨亮的斧子。

 

River valley stretches out. A flag at the small school snaps aloud. Last night, I heard a little temple went missing in the mountains. Cattle and sheep scatter, a lone tree stump stands; Inside of stones lives a man who has no home Thunderbolts and belts turn—how quiet is the western world, as if we could hear the sound of the Earth's core turning on its axis. Wind blows harder and harder, everything becomes lighter The falcon, gravels, broken petals, the address of a song and the road ahead, all there. On the plateau the wind sways the heart of a small town Spring arrives in hurry. Butcher washes his hands Mountains are in panic An ax is polished and dragged by the lake.

嘉峪关外

Outside Jiayuguan

我知道风能做什么,我知道己所不能。 我知道风吹动时,比水、星辰,更为神秘。 我知道正有人从风中消失,带着喊叫、翅、饱含热力的骨骼。 多少光线已被烧掉,我知道它们,也知道 人与兽,甚至人性,都有同一个源泉的夜晚。 我的知道也许微不足道。我知道的寒冷也许微不足道。 在风的国度,戈壁的国度,命运的榔头是盲目的,这些石头 不祈祷,只沉默,身上遍布痛苦的凹坑。 ——许多年了,我仍是这样一个过客: 比起完整的东西,我更相信碎片。怀揣 一颗反复出发的心,我敲过所有事物的门。

 

I know what the wind can do and I cannot. I know when the wind blows, it is more mysterious than water and stars. I know someone vanishing in the wind, his loud calls, his wings and passionate bones. How much light has been burned out, I know, also know That humans and animals, even human nature itself, share a single source of night. My knowledge might be slim. My knowledge of the winter might be slight. In the kingdom of wind and sands, the hammer of destiny is blind, these stones Don't pray, only remain silent, covered by deep pits of pain. ---------for many years, I am a passing guest: I believe in fragments more than the completion. Carrying a capacious heart, I have knocked at the door of all things

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