Editor-in-Chief:
  Yidan Han

  Contributing Editor:
  Kyle David Anderson


陈先发
Chen Xianfa

陈先发(1967-),安徽桐城人。1989年毕业于复旦大学。著有诗集《春天的死亡之书》(1994年)、《前世》(2005年),长篇小说《拉魂腔》(2006年)、诗集《写碑之心》(2011年)、随笔集《黑池坝笔记》(2014年)、诗集《养鹤问题》(2015年台湾版)等。曾获“鲁迅文学奖”、“十月诗歌奖”、“十月文学奖”、“1986年―2006年中国十大新锐诗人”、“2008年中国年度诗人”、“1998年至2008年中国十大影响力诗人”、首届中国海南诗歌双年奖、首届袁可嘉诗歌奖、天问诗歌奖、中国桂冠诗人奖等数十种。作品被译成英、法、俄、西班牙、希腊等。

Chen Xianfa (1967-) was born in Tongcheng, Anhui in 1967 and graduated from Fudan University in 1989. He has published several anthologies of poetry, including Death in Springtime, A Past Life,Written Monument of the Heart, A Mystery of Raising a Crane (Taiwan Edition). His novel Soul-Stealing Opera was published in 2006 and a volume of essays, Heichiba Notes in 2014. He has been the recipient of dozens of literary awards, including: The October Poetry Prize; The October Literature Prize; China's Ten Pioneering Poets, 1986 -2006; China's Poets of the Year, 2008; China's Top Ten Influential Poets, 1998-2008; the inaugural China Hainan Poetry Biennial Award; the inaugural Yuan Kejia Poetry Prize; Tian Wen Poetry Prize; Chinese Laureate Poets Award, etc. His works have been translated into English, French, Russian, Spanish, Greek, among others.



译者
Translator


梁枫
Nancy Liang

梁枫,生于黑龙江。美籍华人。哈佛商学院工商管理硕士。长居美国波士顿及北卡罗来纳州两地。

Nancy Liang, born and raised in Heilongjiang, China, graduated from Harvard Business School in 2004 with a Master's Degree in Business Administration. She currently lives in Boston, MA and Cary, NC.

寒江帖

Cold River Post

笔头烂去 谈什么万古愁 也不必谈什么峭壁的逻辑 都不如迎头一棒 我们渺小 但仍会颤栗 这颤栗穿过雪中城镇、松林、田埂一路绵延而来 这颤栗让我们得以与江水并立 在大水上绘下往昔的雪山和狮子。在大水上 绘下今日的我们: 一群弃婴和 浪花一样无声卷起的舌头 在大水上胡乱写几个斗大字 随它散去 浩浩荡荡

 

Brush nib rotted What eonian sorrow to talk about No need to discuss the logics of cliffs either Nothing compares to the head-on blow with a stick We are insignificant but will still shudder This shudder sweeps through towns, pine woods and ridges in the snow elevating us to stand side by side with the river On the vast water, draw snow mountains, lions of the past. On the vast water draw ourselves of today: a herd of deserted infants and silently twisted tongues like spindrifts On the vast water, scribble down a few gigantic words Let it disperse immensely and infinitely

空白帖

The Blank Post

越用力容器就越满 你生前坐的椅子 越擦就越空不掉 那些空各有面目 像一场大火席卷之后 旷野仍是塞满的 但我不知道这些满 是些什么 我曾像马远一样渴望 一种千锤百炼的空白 可为何总也放不下 这可恶的锤炼? 或许有一天我好像记得 一切。又好像全然 忘记了 包括你眼神的那种空荡荡 到达沃尔科特说的,你的死 像我们友谊的重新开始

 

The harder I try, the fuller the vessel Like the chair you sat in before you died The harder I wipe it, the less vacant it becomes Every type of blankness has its own presence As if after a rampant fire the wilderness is still full But I don't know what it's filled with Like Ma Yuan , I once yearned for a thoroughly forged blankness But why could I never give up on this vicious forging? Perhaps one day I'll seem to remember all of these. But then seem to completely forget even that blank stare in your eyes to achieve what Derek Walcott said, your death seems to be the resumption of our friendship

秋江贴

Autumn River Post

去年八月,江边废弃的小学 荒凉的味道那么好闻 野蒿壮如幼蟒 垃圾像兽类的残骸堆积 随手一拍,旧桌子便随着 浮尘掩面而起 窗外正是江水的一处大拐弯 落日充血的巨型圆盘 恰好嵌在了凹处 几根枯枝和 挖掘机长长黑臂探入盘内 ——仿佛生来如此 我想,在世界任何一处 此景不复再现 阒寂如泥 涂了满面 但世界的冲动依然难以遏止: 灰鸥在江上俯冲 黑孩子用石块攻击我的窗户 孩子们为何总是不能击中? 他们那么接近我的原型 他们有更凶悍的部队和无限的石块 潜伏于江水深处 我知道数十年后 他们之中,定有一人将侵占 我此刻的位置 他将继承这个破损的窗口,继承窗外 又聋又哑的好世界 这独一无二的好世界

 

Last August, at a deserted riverside elementary school desolation smelt so good Wild wormwood as thick as infant python Piled garbage like animal skeleton remains Just a casual pounding, the old desk face hidden, would rise with floating dust Outside the window there was a big river bend The setting sun, a giant disk filled with blood was precisely embedded into the alcove A few dry twigs and long, black arms of excavators probed into the disk ―as if born like this I pondered, in any other place of the world such a scene would not appear again Solitude was like mud spread all over the face Still, the world's impulse was hard to suppress: Gulls swooping on the river swarthy kids attacking my windows with stones Why could they never hit their target? they were so close to my original mode They had more fierce army, unlimited stones lurking deep in the river I knew decades later among them, there must be one invading and occupying my position now He would inherit this broken window, inherit the deaf, dumb good world outside the window The one and only good world

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