Yidan Han

  Contributing Editor:
  Kyle David Anderson

Li Yuansheng


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.


Jinghua Fan


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.


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


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


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

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