潘维，1964年生，浙江湖州人。中国作家协会会员，国家一级作家。著有诗集《不设防的孤寂》《诗五十首》 《隋朝石棺内的女孩》 《潘维诗选》等，作品被译成多种语言。曾获柔刚诗歌奖、天问诗人奖、《诗刊》年度诗人奖、首届两岸诗会桂冠诗人奖、闻一多诗歌奖等十余奖项。现居杭州。
Pan Wei, born in 1964, is a native of Huzhou, Zhejiang. He is a member of China Writers Association. He has published many books of poetry , including The Lonely Fearlessness, Fifty Poems, Girls in Stone Sorrows in the Sui Dynasty, and Pan Wei's Poem Selection. His works have been translated into many languages. He has won more than ten awards, including Rougang Poetry Award, Tianwen Poetry Award, the Poet of the Year of Poetry Journal, First Cross-strait Poetry Laureate Poet Award, and Wen Yiduo Poetry Award. Now he lives in Hangzhou.
谢炯, 诗名炯, 出生在上海。八十年代就读于上海交通大学管理系，1988年留学美国，取得企业管理硕士和法律博士学位。出版诗集《半世纪的旅途》（2015），散文集《蓦然回首》（2016），中文诗集《幸福是，突然找回这样一些东西》（2018），英文翻译诗集《十三片叶子》（2018）。2017年荣获首届德清莫干山国际诗歌节银奖。中文诗作发表在国内《诗刊》《扬子江诗刊》等文学诗刊。英文诗作和翻译作品发表在美国《诗天空》《唇》，《文学交流》等文学诗刊。
Joan Xie was born in Shanghai where she attended Shanghai Jiaotong University. She came to the United States in 1988 to study business and law. Xie's Chinese poetry and essay collections include Half-Century Journey (2015), Looking Back (2016), Nothing Made Me Happier than Finding These Objects (2018) and she is the editor of Thirteen Leaves (2018). In 2017, she received a Silver award at First Moganshan International Poetry Festival in China. Her poems in Chinese appeared in well-known poetry magazines in China, such as Poetry Journal and The Yangtze River Poetry Journal. Her translations appeared in Exchanges Literature Journal, LIPS and Poetry Sky.
In this southern hill town where I live,
the rain falls like days.
I tie them together, fasten them tightly, tan them in the market.
After winter comes, I use them for fire.
The little bird, naked with its scalding claws,
cries and flies far away.
Deep in the mountain valley,
an axe screams all day and night.
The farmer sows the field,
his loneliness hits the blue lakeshore.
A plum-embroidered afternoon.
Buried silver, the nameless ground.
Wind is lighter, like a pair of new shoes.
Passing through verandas and a formal hallway,
you know, you are seven now.
Seven-year-old flesh, with hidden light.
The air is like crisp satin.
A thin tear.
Water in the pond, young swallows under the eaves,
everything becomes rational in the silence.
Only the apprentice behind the clock
has a dizzy fizz.