岛子，诗人，艺术评论家，画家。1956年出生于青岛，现为清华大学教授，博士生导师。 岛子是中国当代知名艺术评论家，世界美学协会会员。

Dao Zi, poet, art critic, painter. Born in Qingdao in 1956, Dao Zi is now a professor, Ph.D. supervisor in Academy of Arts & Design, Tsinghua University. He is a leading art critic in China and a member of International Aesthetics Association.

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.

雾霾听证

The Hearing on Smog

某物：在血清里
摸黑，逆行
秃鹫在上升的狼烟中辨认归途
某物：咀嚼油炸的词语
和熄灯号，和井水
一齐下沉。许多气息逃向根茎
许多根茎逃向水泉，许多
没有死透的蝶翅逃向烟树，许多
枚举，如重名的黑名单，许多烟树
都是矿工的骨粉，许多石油
都是跨国的秃鹫争食断肠
断肠人在天涯，从潜望镜
透视：家山三远，植被披麻
“天朝仁学广览”，朱批氤氲
细分到看不透的灰度、光韵、气数
枪杆子吸烟，钱袋子装烟，直把海市
熏成蜃楼，阿房一炬，诸如此类
诸如：看不透的还会梦见
如果梦见诗人火中取栗，总会有鬼哭，总会
从那里氤氲这里：乌云的驳船拖拽万吨肺叶
行驶在电视塔发射的滚滚鼻音
焚尸炉内部，硫磺火舌在争吵
总归没有烧透，总归
不必为作恶的心怀不平
哦，天上稀薄的吗哪
和地上的某物混成了夜歌
导盲犬咻咻游过界河
驻足此岸的你，看见：那自义的
孽火，已然带来自戕的废墟
而降落彼岸的你，听见：
那浮出海图的铜锣
被冰河期的风锤撞响
白矮星的黑帆正缓缓登陆
			

Some-thing: in serum,
black, retrograde.
In rising smoke, vultures hunt the way home.
Some-thing: chewing fried words
and lights out, sinking with water to the well.
Many scents flee to the roots
many roots escape to the springs, many
     butterfly wings survived, flee to trees, many 
enumerations are on a blacklist with the same name.
Many trees are miners' ashes, gasoline
     is the prey of stateless vultures.
A heartbroken man watches the horizon
through a periscope: three hills away his home,
vegetation wears white mourning.
In the smog, an emperor’s brush
"The Overview of Benevolent Action in Our Dynasty”
fragmented into impenetrable grayscale, rhyme, gas,
gunsmoke, coin-pocket smokes until the sea turned into a mirage
     until Epang Palace was torched, and so on 
and so on — Can’t see but may dream.
If you dream that a poet takes chestnuts from the fire, 
that a ghost always cries, and smog
     always snuggles, again here from there:
a black-cloud barge drags tons of lungs, 
the rolling noises from the TV tower.
Inside the crematorium,
sulfurous flames are arguing about
     not burning thoroughly, that of
no needs to worry about evil-hearts, always.
Oh, thin Manna in the sky
     fuses with Some-thing on the earth,
raising — the song of the night.
A guide dog crosses the boundary of Styx
     stops on this shore, see:
The self-righteous fire of vileness
     blows self-conflicted ruins.
You who land on the other shore, hear:
Emerging from the ocean, the gong
is tolled by a wind-hammer from the Ice Age
     and the black sail of the white dwarf star 
slowly landing.
			

闪电打进核桃里

Lightning into the Walnut

闪电打进核桃里
王的胆结石在雨后出土
刺客的木乃伊立入壁龛

闪电打进核桃里
谁都料到，顽石的精虫稀少
雷雨和蟾蜍，一定堵在赶考的路上

闪电打进核桃里
命途归命途，耳道归耳道
金属一旦钛白，羽毛果然钛青
闪电打进核桃里
聋子西山弄箫，哑女南山打钟
捉住闪电的人，遁入雾中的黑板

闪电打进核桃里
火湖科考队烧焦了七个
漩涡再三把救生圈抛回岸滩

闪电打进核桃里
除了闷雷，什么能掩盖那隐秘的忧伤
五个窟窿，一座空坟，七句遗言
			

Lightning into the walnut.
King's gallstone, unearthed by a storm
Assassins’ mummies, hiding in closet alter.

Lightning into the walnut.
Spans of a stubborn stone as a few of us know, 
Thunderstorms and frogs jammed to the national test.

Lightning into the walnut.
Fate belongs to fate. Ear canal belongs to the ear canal.
If metal were titanium-white, feathers would be titanium-blue.

Lightning into the walnut.
Deaf blows Xiao In Xishan. Dumb girl rings the bell in Nanshan,
The one who caught the lightning ebbs into black fog.

Lightning into the walnut.
Seven in a fire-lake expedition team were burned
The whirlpool pushed a lifebuoy back to the shore.

Lightning into the walnut.
None but the muffled thunder cloaks all hidden sorrows, 
Five holes, an empty grave, and seven last words.
			

收割

Harvest

磨镰的声音涌入麦浪
万古
响彻旷野

瞎天使：尖翅膀的利刃
呼啸——
掠过麦茬围拢的村落

求你：挽住云雀与晨星
求你：挽住蛙鸣与麦垛

你能否挽紧：无地拾荒的臂膀
你能否更瞎：瞎到——
能摸黑递给我灯座

何处? 你升天的麦粒 
再次掰开耶稣
主啊，何地？你掰开我
——词语的天国
			

The sound of sharpening pours into the waves of wheat,
echoes of a million years passing through the wilderness.
 
Blind angels: winged blades, whistling —
Sweep through a wheat-drowned village.
 
I beg you to keep skylarks and morning stars.
I beg you to keep frog croaking and the wheat.
 
Could you hold those landless arms?
Could you be blinded — hand over the lamp without light?
 
Where? Your ascending grains open to Jesus 
my Lord. Where? 
you open me — the heaven of the words
			

鹤

Crane

三个守夜的，都睡酣了
除了鹤，还在
天门上空练习，阴阳，顿挫
三丈高的黑波涛，抛来
被砍下的游吟头颅，游吟的
星空明亮，鹤唳，更明亮
三匹天门石马，都风化了
除了那只：守望在天门
等你再骑飞的鹤
在鹤唳，被倒进风声
之前。在思想的沙场
追猎鹤魂，贿金，抢收鹤的羽冠
之前。在三个无鹤的星球
投胎一个鹤翼女信使
之前。那化身为鹤的
正把皓月驱向裸睡的草坡
			

Three vigils, all sleeping--
Only a crane still practices its trade 
above the gate of Heaven. Yin & Yang. Pause.
Three-feet black waves toss up 
a severed head of a man who is reciting 
bright stars, and who is sighed by the crane, brighter.
Three stone horses outside of the gate of Heaven, 
mummified except the one: waiting at the entrance of Heaven
for you to ride once again on the crane
before its sighs are poured into the wind;
before it hunts its soul, bribing gold and feathers
in the sand field of the thoughts;
before it reincarnated into a crane-winged 
female messenger in three crane-less planets.
And the transformed crane
is pushing a bright moon, naked in sleep 
to the grass slope.