Franz Wright (1953-2015) was a poet with a unique voice in contemporary American poetry with the themes on isolation, mental health and faith. His collection of poetry Walking to Martha's Vineyard won the Pulitzer Prize in 2004, and he and his poet father James Wright the only father-son pair to win such prize in American history.

弗朗兹-赖特（1953-2015）是美国当代诗歌中具有独特声音的诗人，处理主题包括孤独、心理健康以及信仰。他的诗集《走向玛莎园》获得2004年的普利策诗歌奖，与他父亲、著名诗人詹姆斯-赖特，成为美国历史上惟一一对父子都获得普利策诗歌奖的诗人。

得一忘二，本名范静哗，诗人与译者，新加坡国立大学英文系博士。他以中英文写诗，出版有诗集以及诗歌翻译作品，诗作发表于中国大陆、台湾、日本、法国、新加坡以及美国等杂志与诗选，并受邀出席国际诗歌节。他目前定居新加坡，从事教学研究工作。

Fan Jinghua, born in 1965, is a poet and translator. His poems have been published in literary magazines and anthologies in Mainland China, Taiwan, Japan, France, Singapore and USA, and he has been invited to poetry festivals. He is a university lecturer and lives in Singapore.

First Light

第一抹光

It's raining 
in a dead language.

The empty house filled with the sound 

of your name 
abruptly whispered, 

once, 

before you finally slept.
			

雨正在下
一种死的语言。

空房子充满的声音

是你名字
突然被低声念出

一次，

在你最终入睡之前。
			

On Earth

大地上

Resurrection of the little apple tree outside 
my window, leaf-
light of late 
in the April 
called her eyes, forget 
forget--
but how
How does one go 
about dying?
Who on earth 
is going to teach me--
The world 
is filled with people 
who have never died
			

我窗外的小苹果树
复活，四月里
叶子的光
近来
吸引她的眼球，忘记吧
忘记——
但如何
死，一个人如何
着手？
到底有谁能
教我——
这世界
满是从未
死过的人
			

June Storm

六月风暴

Voices from the first heartshaped green of summer 
leaves, rain; 
birds.

What are they called.

I'm leaving here, and still don't know.

I'm going there, though, 
where they are--
I feel this.

Feel that I was there 
before.

I felt this 
as a child, and now 
I know it.
			

声音，来自夏天第一批
心形绿叶，雨；
鸟。

怎么称呼它们呢。

我要离开这儿，而仍不知道。

我要去那儿，不过，
它们的所在——
我感觉得到。

觉得我以前我
到过那儿。

我儿时
感到过，现在
我则知道了。
			

Sitting Up Late With My Father, 1977

和我父亲对坐到深夜，1997年

White fire of winter stars--
what he's thinking at fifty
I finally know.

He thinks, so the blizzards will come 
and I will be healed; 
we'll talk

when you grow up
and I am dead.

White distant emerald fire of winter stars.
			

冬夜星星的白色火光——
五十岁的他想什么，
我终于明白。

他这样想，所以暴雪会来，
我会治愈；
我们将会交谈，

在你长大
我已死了之时。

冬夜星星遥远的白色翡翠火光。