李少君，1967年生，湖南湘乡人，1989年毕业于武汉大学新闻系，主要著作有《自然集》、《草根集》、《海天集》、《应该对春天有所表示》等十八部，曾任《天涯》杂志主编，海南省文联副主席，现为中国作家协会《诗刊》社主编。

Li Shaojun was born in Xiangxiang, Hunan Province in 1967. He earned a B.A. from Wuhan University with a major in journalism (1989). He has published eighteen books, including poetry collections Book of Nature, Book of Grass Roots, Book of the Sea and the Sky, and Let Us Do Something for Spring. Li Shaojun is known in China as The Naturalist Poet. He now serves as the editor-in-chief of China's Poetry Journal (Beijing).

王美富，1958年出生于台湾，现任《廿一世纪中国诗歌》主编兼翻译。台湾大学中文系学士，加州大学气象学硕士，普渡大学交通工程硕士。曾任世界银行交通专家，美国交通部工程师。诗歌散见于美国与中国文学刊物。王美富定居于伦敦。

Meifu Wang is the founder, editor and co-translator of 21st Century Chinese Poetry. Born in Taiwan, Meifu Wang earned her B.A. in foreign languages and world literature from National Taiwan University. Her poetry has appeared in various Chinese literary journals, in Seattle-area newspapers, and in Denver Quarterly. Meifu received a Henry Luce Foundation Fellowship for Chinese poetry translation for a residency at Vermont Studio Center. Meifu lives in London.

苏浪禹，1946 生，美国华盛顿市人，曾任报社编辑，潜水艇水手，美国政府行政主管。对中国文字和诗歌有浓厚兴趣。他的著作包括四本个人诗集。

Michael Soper was born 1946 in Washington DC. He was the last hot-metal apprentice typesetter in that city, and was intrigued by the challenges of word processing for Chinese character fonts. Michael went on to work for the US government as a printer, publications manager, editor, and contracting specialist. He has been translating Chinese poetry for almost twenty years.

春天，我有一种放飞自己的愿望

It is Spring, I Want to Set Myself Free

两只燕子拉开了初春的雨幕
老牛，仍拖着背后的寒气在犁田

柳树吐出怯生生的嫩芽试探着春寒
绿头鸭，小心翼翼的感受着水的温暖

春风正一点一点稀释着最后的寒冷
轻的光阴，还在掂量重的心事

我早已经按捺不住了
春天，我有一种放飞自己的愿望……
			

Two swallows flew by, raising the veil of rain to welcome Spring.
An old ox continues to plow the field, cold mist trailing.

Willows shyly put out new catkins.
Mallards tread water gingerly, savoring the river’s warmth.

The spring breeze dissipates the chill, bit by bit.
Time is featherlight, but thoughts weigh heavily on the heart.

I have tried, but it is hard to hold back any longer—
it is spring, and I want to set myself free . . .
			

西山如隐

Western Hill, There and Not There

寒冬如期而至，风霜沾染衣裳
清冷的疏影勾勒山之肃静轮廓
万物无所事事，也无所期盼

我亦如此，每日里宅在家中
饮茶读诗，也没别的消遣
看三两小雀在窗外枯枝上跳跃
但我啊，从来就安于现状
也从不担心被世间忽略存在感

偶尔，我也暗藏一丁点小秘密
比如，若可选择，我愿意成为西山
这个北京冬天里最清静无为的隐修士
端坐一方，静候每一位前来探访的友人
让他们感到冒着风寒专程赶来是值得的
			

Winter always arrives on time, frosting our clothes.
Skeletal trees raise the mountain’s stately profile, 
an indolent world where no one expects anything.

So am I, staying indoors every day,
sipping tea and reading poetry, no real diversions.
A few sparrows skip around the leafless twigs outside the windows,
as for me, I am ever content with the way things are;
not fluttered at all if the world has forgotten me.

I do hide a small secret now and then,
for example, wanting to be the Western Hill,
the serene, zen-like recluse in Beijing’s winter,
patiently waiting for good friends to visit,
who later would call the treacherous trip in the storm totally worthwhile.
			

海之传说

Legend of the Sea

伊端坐于中央，星星垂于四野
草虾花蟹和鳗鲡献舞于宫殿
鲸鱼是先行小分队，海鸥踏浪而来
大幕拉开，满天都是星光璀璨

我正坐在海角的礁石上小憩
风帘荡漾，风铃碰响
月光下的海面如琉璃般光滑
我内心的波浪还没有涌动……

然后，她浪花一样粲然而笑
海浪哗然，争相传递
抵达我耳边时已只有一小声呢喃

但就那么一小声，让我从此失魂落魄
成了海天之间的那个为情而流浪者
			

She sat in the middle of the sea, surrounded by constellations.
Shrimps, crabs, eels performed a dance in her palace.
A brigade of whales led the troupe, followed by seagulls treading water,
then the curtain opened — it was a starry, starry night. 

I sat on the reef by a headland.
The wind was fluttering; the wind chime was ringing.
In the moonlight the sea looked translucent,
and the waves in my heart had not yet surged. . .

Then she laughed, in a delightful and playful voice.
Her laughter rode the billows to the other side of the sea,
but had faded into a tiny whisper when it reached my ears.

But this tiny whisper was enough to steal my heart,
turning me into a seeker at sea for the love that came to me only very briefly.
			

邻海

The Sea Next Door

海是客厅，一大片的碧蓝绚丽风景
就在窗外，抬头就能随时看到

海更象邻居，每天打过招呼后
我才低下头，读书，做家务，处理公事
抑或，静静地站着凝望一会

有一段我们更加亲密，每天
总感觉很长时间没看海，就象忘了亲吻
所以，无论回家有多晚，都会惦记着
推开窗户看看海，就象每天再忙
也要吻过后才互道晚安入睡

多少年过去了，海还在那里
而你却已经不见。我还是会经常敞开门窗
指着海对宾客说：你们曾用山水之美招待过我
我呢，就用这湛蓝之美招待你们吧
			

The sea is my living room, a blue, open scene, totally gorgeous;
right outside the window, I only need to lift my head to see it.

The sea is more like my neighbor. First thing of the day is to say hello to it,
before I bend my head to read a book, to do housework or office work.
Sometimes, I simply stand by the window and look at it.

There was a time when we were like soulmates. I often
felt parched if not seeing the sea for a while, as if missing a kiss,
and, no matter how late I came home, I would remember
to open the window to look at the sea, the same
as a good-night kiss before bed.

Years have passed, and the sea is still there,
but you are gone. I still open the doors and windows, pointing at
the sea and telling my visitors: You treated me sumptuously in your mountains,
here, let me return your favor with this blue beauty.