Yidan Han
绿音
 Yidan Han is the author of two books of poetry Standing against the Wind (1993) and Selected Poems of Green Voice (2004, bilingual). She is a coauthor of the first Dictionary of Rhetoric (2000) and other four academic books in expounding classical Chinese poetry. She grew up in Fujian, China and has been using Green Voice as her pen name to publish poems before 2005. Her poems have appeared in many literary journals and anthologies in China, United States, Singapore and the Philippines and she has received a number of poetry awards in China and the US. She is the founder and editor-in-chief of the first bilingual English and Chinese poetry website in the world poetrysky.com. She lives in Providence, Rhode Island.
绿音，原名韩怡丹。生于中国福建。 新闻传播学士，文学创作硕士，福建省作家协会会员，曾任记者、编辑数年。著有诗集《临风而立》（1993）、《绿音诗选》（2004，中英双语诗集），合作编著中国第一部《辞章学辞典》（2000）以及四本中国古诗文评点译析导读书籍。 80年代曾任厦门大学《采贝诗刊》副主编。2004年12月创办“诗天空” poetrysky.com——全球首家中英诗歌双语网站，任主编。她的中、英文诗作发表于中国、美国、新加坡、菲律宾报刊及十几本诗选中，诗作曾在中美获多项诗创作奖。 她自2002年移居美国罗得岛州普罗维登斯。
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译者
Translator
绿音
Yidan Han
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转过身
夕阳余辉中的向日葵
将独自穿越
又一个黑夜
暮色用它荒凉的手
触摸
她的前额
远山模糊
她知道暮色是她的朋友
它的静默可被触及
它的辉煌即将消融
像她自己——
一点一滴地
融入黑夜
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Turning away at sunset,
she'll go through another night
by herself.
Dusk touches her forehead
with its deserted hands
Faraway,
the mountain,
vague.
She knows dusk is her friend
whose silence can be touched
and whose brilliance will dissolve
like herself—gradually
as night merges.
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阳光下的早晨
广袤的蓝天下
已经变黄的树
在风中起舞
风声如海浪拍打着沙滩
一浪又一浪。金黄的叶子
如磨亮的铜片
闪闪发光
仿佛有一个乐队在演奏
我听到鸟儿婉转
落叶在屋顶上翻滚
我还听到白云漫步的声音
大风变成了微风
一只红鸟停在一棵无叶树上
其他的鸟陆续到来
好像他们要加入乐队的合唱
鸟儿们停留了几分钟后
同时飞走, 隐入树丛
只留下我, 望着高枝上
一些像鸟巢的东西
却不见鸟的踪影
夏天飞逝
只留下我, 站在
一片秋天的波浪上
听那风声
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Sunny morning.
Yellow trees dance in the wind
under a vast blue sky.
Sounds of the wind remind me of
waves striking the seashore
one after another. Yellow leaves shine
like burnished sheets of copper.
Enjoying an orchestra performing under the sky,
I hear birds chattering,
leaves rolling on the roof, squirrels crowing,
I even hear the footsteps of clouds.
The wind switches to a breeze.
A cardinal perches on a leafless tree
while other birds arrive.
It seems they want to begin chorusing.
After staying a few minutes,
they all leave, diminishing in woods.
I am not leaving, staring up at
some nest-like stuff.
No birds can be found.
Summer flies away.
I stay alone, standing on
the edge of an autumn wave,
listening to the sough.
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