Yidan Han

  Contributing Editor:
  Kyle David Anderson

Francisco Brines

Spanish poet Francisco Briones, one of the last representatives of poets in the 1950s, was awarded the Cervantes Prize on November 16, 2020. It is the most prestigious award in Spanish literature and is regarded as the Nobel Prize in Spanish literature. Francisco Briones has published different studies on contemporary poetry and published seven poetry collections, among which the more famous are The Discourse of Darkness (1966), The Autumn of Roses (1986) and The Last Coast (1995).



Zhou Daomo

周道模,教师,在国内外文学报刊发表汉语、英语和翻译作品。 出版汉语诗集两部、汉英双语诗集两部、自印汉语诗集一部。曾获国内外诗歌奖。主编汉英版《2018世界诗选》。多次应邀参加世界诗人大会和国际诗歌节。中国诗歌学会会员、四川省作协会员、覃子豪研究会会长、《覃子豪诗刊》主编。

Zhou Daomo is the author of two Chinese poetry collections, two Chinese English bilingual poetry collections and one self-printed Chinese poetry collection. He won poetry awards in China and abroad. He is the Editor in Chief of 2018 Selected World Poems in Chinese and English. He was invited to attend the World Poets' Congress and the International Poetry Festival. He is now a lifelong member of the World Poets' Congress and editor-in-chief of the Qin Zihao Poetry Journal.

Elca And Montgó
-To Angelika Becker


The dark death of the orange trees blinds my eyes; orange and dry, rises the moon behind a sea of lead. In the distance, the mountain breathes blue air; the sea wets it, in its slumber. And so the shadow falls, for centuries, over the ache of its roughness. The houses open their eyelids, the hillside lights up, trembling, the heart yearns for beings it does not know; and other beings return to remembrance. Invisible, an air of jasmine penetrates my shirt, from my flesh it lifts light sweat; and this blown dust is lost in the night, deaf gravedigger of my time. It was the merciful day, and to the worn-out earth, grateful, I look lovingly, for the gentleness with which I die today.


这些橘子树的黑暗死亡 蒙蔽了我的眼睛; 橘黄和微薄的月亮,在 铅的海洋后面升起。 在远方,那座山呼吸着蓝空气; 大海湿润了它,在它睡时。所以几世纪了, 阴影降落在它粗糙的痛苦上。 房子睁开了它们的眼睛, 山坡上的灯光亮了,颤抖着 心渴望它不了解的生命; 而其它生命回归记忆。 隐隐约约,一股茉莉花气息 透过我衬衫,从我的肉体提取 轻微的汗;还有这扬尘 迷失于夜晚, 我那个时代的聋哑掘墓人。 那曾是仁慈的日子, 且对那疲惫的大地,感恩不尽, 我用心地寻找, 我今天死去的柔和方式。

Copyright © 2005-2022 by Poetrysky.com. All rights reserved.