李元胜，男，1963年生。诗人、生态摄影师。现居重庆。

Li Yuansheng (1963--) is a poet and a nature photographer, and has won several literary awards, including the prestigious Lu Xun Literary Prize. He lives in Chongqing, China.

得一忘二，60后诗人、译者。他以中英文写诗，出版了多部翻译作品和诗集，诗作发表于中国大陆、台湾、新加坡以及美国等杂志与文选，曾获奖并多次受邀出席国际诗歌节。他目前定居新加坡，在大学任教。

Fan Jinghua is a bilingual poet and translator. His poems have been published in literary magazines and anthologies in Mainland China, Taiwan, Singapore and USA. He has been invited to several international poetry festivals and has read his poems in different occasions, and he has been awarded prizes for his poems and translations. Jinghua works as a university lecturer and lives in Singapore.

走得太快的人

He Who Walks Too Fast

走得太快的人
有时会走到自己前面去
他的脸庞会模糊
速度给它掺进了
幻觉和未来的颜色

同样，走得太慢的人
有时会掉到自己身后
他不过是自己的阴影
有裂缝的过去
甚至，是自己一直
试图偷偷扔掉的垃圾

坐在树下的人
也不一定刚好是他自己
有时他坐在自己的左边
有时坐在自己的右边
幸好总的来说
他都坐在自己的附近
			

Whoever walks too fast
May sometimes walk past himself
His face may be blurred
As speed permeates it
With the colors of illusion and future

Likewise, whoever walks too slow
May sometimes lag behind himself
He will become his own shadow
A fissured past
Of what has always wished in secret 
To dump, some kind of waste

The one who is sitting under a tree
May not be precisely himself
Sometimes he sits to his right
Sometimes he sits to his left
Fortunately, most of the time
He sits quite close to himself
			

良宵引

Ode to a Good Night

你读到爱时，爱已经不在
你读到春天，我已落叶纷飞

一个人的阅读，和另一个人的书写
有时隔着一杯茶，有时，隔着生死

我喜欢删节后的自我，很多人爱着，我剪下的枝条
直到，奇迹出现了，你用阅读追上了我

你读到一粒沙的沉默
而我，置身于它里面的惊涛骇浪中
			

In reading, when you come to love, love is already gone
When you come to spring, I am full of fallen leaves

Between what one reads and what another has written
Sometimes stands a cup of tea, and sometimes, life and death

I like myself abridged, as many will love the twigs trimmed off
And then a miracle appears when you catch me through reading

You will read of the silence in a grain of sand
While I find myself in its violent waves
			

给

To—

我摸索着你描述的整个白天
所有可爱的事物
草丛、水池，嬉戏的孩子们
喧哗的风，眼睛里的阴影
以及一本摊开的书上
坐着的灵魂

我没有告诉你
我的手指上迅速扎满了小刺
			

I've been groping for what you have described—
the day from dawn to dusk and all the lovely things 
such as bushes, ponds, children in a game, 
the noisy wind, the shadows in eyes
and an open book 
with a soul sitting on it

But I have held from you
Fine thorns have so quickly grown on my fingers