Bilingual Readings of Autumn '24 Issue

降 E 大调夜曲*作者：罗帆黑夜垂下泪。像个老妇人娓娓道来：我恨我的天生与不美丽我恨我寥廓的苍穹被人所知甚少我恨我的明天又将苍白我恨我的圆缺时时被云雾围绕我恨我痴心的爱我更恨我的无边无际时常令自己看不见摸不着。今晚的夜曲，低沉地在林间回荡……我这个凡间的幽灵，该作何回答？我连恨、厌倦，哪怕热爱的事物都如此渺小。然而刺的针孔扎向自我时又庞大得明朗而坚定。我无法回答，唯以看不见摸不着的拥抱忘却恨，遗漏爱，在黑夜的地板上来回布道。

nocturne in e flat major*translated by PLSnight weeps. like an old lady who recounts relentlessly:i hate being inherently unattractivei hate being scarcely known for my vast skyi hate my tomorrow that will pale againi hate my ups and downs constantly shrouded in mists and cloudsi hate my infatuationsi hate my boundlessness even morewhich often tends to blind methe nocturne tonight, reverberating inaudibly in the forest…as a ghost in this mortal world, how should i respond?the things i hate, dislike, even those i am passionate aboutare so small. yet when the needle of a thorn stabs me they become enormously clear and determinedi cannot respond, only to forget about hate and lovewith invisible hugs, preaching to and fro on the floor of the night.

缺席翻译：诗验室那只在夏日阳光下眨眼的小雪鸟，对这些光措手不及边飞边闪烁着以及你清晨的睫毛当太阳洒入瓶中劈开千格玻璃睡眠揪着你的踝轻拽着，丝毫不放。城外那片细软的绿草扭成一处的杂草越长越稠，缀着出走的野花再远一些，以神圣的脚步跃走的山头以及你涌着自信的发根一种四处伸展之物野蛮奔跑的生长公寓楼的亲吻之角清瘦之火自爱人所倚之处逃离粉饰于他们的身形中淡蓝色且泛着红晕以及你的嘴同样的亲吻之角微笑中拴着的雨点火力全开的太阳以及被它擒走的注意力夜里风的低吟山里咬紧牙关的酷寒城里气喘吁吁的热你走时空荡的呼吸还未回答的问题她一辈子都在问你的缺席不会被注意你的缺席不会将世界一分为二仿佛没有任何快乐而言没有爱，没有友谊，没有祝福，没有风，没有山，没有呼吸，没有太阳，没有吻，没有杂草没有花，没有坡，没有休息没有缺席，没有。没有值得注意的。

Absenceby Laura RomigThe baby snowbird who blinks in summer sun, unprepared for all that lightFlitting and twinklingAnd your eyelashes in the early morningWhen the sun streams in the glass And splinters through a thousand piecesAnd sleep is grasping at your anklesTugging soft, persistent.The roll of soft grass outside the cityScraggled weeds that grow thick, dotted with runaway wildflowersWay out, hills that bound away in divine leaps  And the roots of your hair rippling with surenessThe wild running growthOf a thing that moves in all directions.And the kissing corners of apartment towersThe wiry fire escapes where lovers leanStuccoed in their portraitsBaby blue and blushingAnd those same kissing corners of your mouthLittle raindrops pinning in a soft smileThe sun in all its radianceAnd heads that turn to watch.And the hush of winds at night,Bitter cold biting in the mountains andhot, breathy in the city.The empty breath when you go,the unanswered questionshe spends her whole life asking.Your absence wouldn’t be noticed.Your absence would rip the world in twoIn a way that would leave no joy,no love, no friendship, no blessings,no wind, no mountains, no breath,no sun, no kisses, no weeds,no flowers, no slopes, no rest,no absence,no.Nothing worth noticing.

焦距作者：朴杪为留白而交错，凋落热烈而消极。剪影趋近沉闷底座时，脱节的一瞬，似风中静止的风车。大地渐变为鱼，搁浅于自身。涓涓尘沙灌溉出烦闷。如何借视线模仿窒息与腥气、剥落的鳞。多年来，云是遮眼布。我伸手向天空摸索系在脑后的结。

focal lengthstranslated by PLSinterweave for blank spacethe withering warm and passive.as silhouettes approach the sullen basethe moment of disjointingis like the silent windmill in the windthe earth fades into a fishstranded on itselftrickles of dust watered into ennuihow to imitate the suffocationthe stink and the fallen scales with sightfor years, clouds are a blindfoldi stretch my hands to the sky groping forthe knot bound to the back of my head

our years added upby W.M. Butlerif i could shed you like skin leave the last of you to blister in the sun a husk of my time spent exposed to the elemental cost of our years added upthere would still be the rain bleeding smudges of neon on the streets beneath the taxi’s tires the threading of my fingers beneath your dress your breath snared in the thrust of my collar bone we alone in this world understand the tragic mistake of falling in love with each other the knowledge that anyone we touch afterwards will be a shadow of a shadow of what we did to each other’s bodies the traces we left on the other’s mind we cannot be dulled by tides or distance or a new love that will not burn us like we burned when blue eyes sparked in a future city that was already lost when we arrived.

我们共度的时间翻译：诗验室如果我可以像皮肤一样蜕掉你任最后一片你在阳光下发疱我暴露于我们共度的时间之沉重代价中虚度的光阴之壳街头将会有淌血的雨出租车轮胎下霓虹斑斑你的裙下我来回游走的手指你戳着我锁骨的呼吸这世上只有我们清楚陷入恋爱的悲剧性错误知道此后与我们沾染的任何人都将是我们给彼此身体造成的阴影的一个阴影我们在对方大脑中留下的印记我们无法因潮汐或距离或一段无法像我们刚抵达一座早已迷失的未来之城时碧眼一亮那样燃烧我们的新爱情而变得麻木。

斗门作者：帕凡带着高原沉吟的脸我经过这里触碰一些举自往昔尚未黯淡的目光临写简单的字眼:心应的海浪、窗和远山凝望中凝结的弧线没有重量但真实可辨的时间的尾迹这些微明的构成有时扩展为较大的云层一切清晰或模糊摇动的影子都由此消释吧一年，五年窗中的浮木退入深冬山的脉搏在众多边缘停泊陌生的奇迹总是不远不近

doumentranslated by PLSwith the muttering face of the plateaui walk by this placerunning into a few looks from the pastthough not yet bleakcopying a few simple words:the gratifying waves, windows and distant mountainsthe arcs frozen in the gazehas no weightbut real identifiabletraces of timethese glimmering compositionssometimes expand into larger cloudslet all clear or blearily swaying shadowsdisappear from hereone year, five years from nowthe driftwood in the window will retreat into winterthe pulsing of the mountains moored at numerous bordersand strange miracles never distant nor close

translated by PLSI’ve always been a bit scared of cats. Esmeralda strokes the stray cat in her arms, smirking at me. Her current movement, I think, is like a riddle for a single word verb. The answer, is “tuck”. Standing in the shadow of the outline of a flood emergency command unit, I wanted to give her an indulgent smile, but it may just look like embarrassment. I wanted to tell E about the things I can not accomplish: the world stores suspense in a bridge, as if locking the spring with uranium, sometimes reduced into self entertainment as a result of not receiving employment injury insurance. I imitate the surface of lakes, solving unfamiliar algebra with bridges, as willows hand over the unpredictable power, releasing sighs of labour outside the system. It’s the fourteenth time the spring rain attempts to lurk in the night with Du Fu, yet the latter’s poetry manifests, that rain is also endlessly coding Du Fu, and night is chosen as a preferred complier, rain steps into a chaos un-intermittently, like the rain from when the Tang dynasty started to decline, predicting the answer to Esmeralda’s riddle, interpreting “tuck” in a hieroglyphic way, as a salutation for herself, though these riddles coughed out by Du Fu with the pains of a caged beast when he was minstreling about the universe, bide as a sidekick at the joints of one after another riddles, muddleheaded and stubborn. 

作者：高敬天我一直会有点怕猫，Esmeralda 抚着怀中的流浪黑猫，得意地对我笑。我想她现在的动作，像是打一个单字动词的字谜。谜底，是”掖”。我站在汛期抢险指挥部的轮廓投下的阴影里，想回她一个宠溺的笑，但看上去可能只是窘迫。我想告诉E一些，我力所不能及的事：世界将桥用作贮藏悬念的方式，如同它以铀为春天上锁，有时沦为拿不到工伤保险的自娱。我效仿湖面，袭用桥运筹一种我不熟悉的代数，垂柳递来捉摸不定的幂，捎带有体制外劳动力的叹息。春雨借杜甫试验潜入夜的第十四种方式，但杜甫的诗影射出，雨水也在不懈编程杜甫，而夜被用作首选编译器，雨脚如麻未断绝，似乎唐代由盛转衰之际的雨，预知了 Esmeralda 给出的字谜，以另一种象形方式演绎出“掖”，作为向她打的招呼，而杜甫一生应邀走穴于宇宙在困兽之痛中呕出的这些谜，捱在一个个谜面的关节处充任配角，稀里糊涂又执拗。

语象叙事短歌翻译：诗验室合作六是一群鱼所需的最小数目短歌有五行没关系。我写完后你再加一行：沉默。零碎物一切碎于时间，造或生，起与落一妇人与狗在沙滩捡拾奇贝：谁读这些消息呢？鱼格布、塑料、箔：此布料作品可爱，造、非生，珍鱼。身为一体非易事。破、修、破、修。用伤口。

Ekphrastic Tankas*by D.P. SnyderCollaborationSix is the fewestnumber of fish in a school.Tankas have five lines.No matter! After I write this,you'll add the last line: Silence.FlotsamAll things break in time.Made or born, all rise and fall.A woman and doggather strange shells at the shore:Who will read these messages?FishGingham, plastic, foil:This fabric creature's cute,made, not born, rare fish.Being a body's not easy.Break, fix, break, fix. Use the wounds.

老屋埋下作者：李走走 可以记载，丛林乌黑的圈禁。村落，四周来风怀旧是梧桐树和我的，出生地在上面；我，青石板，没有母亲触摸的机会是跌坐的契机，凶手撞见懂事的婴儿弃之以鼻。罪恶来不及遮住的，双眼、鼻息同一切能锁定狂躁的复仇讯号，沉淀等到向下去，歌声也一并赶到。竖笛，风琴和被借用泥土介质。不及道别的人溺在天上，和愈发疲软飓风，去往梧桐树的脚步规避歌声和拔断电源的风扇旋转，悠扬来自某处母亲、父亲和老屋

the old house buriestranslated by PLSit is possible to write, of the dark imprisonment of the forest. the village, encircled by windreminiscing belongs to the sycamores and me, birthplace. upon which: I, blue flagstones, the absence of motherthe opportunity to touch is a possibility to slump, the perpetrator runs into an intelligent babygiving them a sneer. those that the evil does not have time to cover, eyes, breathsany sign of revenge that can lock down restlessness, sedimentingby the time it reaches the bottom, the singing is here too. clarinet, organ and borrowedpeat. those that don’t get to say goodbye drown in the sky, and the weakeninghurricane, the footsteps heading towards the sycamore stay away fromthe singing and the spinning of unplugged fan, the melodies come from somewheremother, father and the old house

空气，越来越薄翻译：诗验室夜晚我会记载一些小成就：你慢慢品尝早间咖啡的样子，为下周、下个月所做的计划。周末，我们在人群中随意穿梭，去菜市场和热闹的咖啡馆。我想要别人见证我们共同打造的生活。想要在转瞬即逝间享受你。那已是一年前的事了，而我仍在追求看似不可能的转变：一项多任务处理的能力。一个记脸的习惯。一通打错的电话。

The air, thinningby Zephyr ZhangAt night I catalog small victories: the way you linger over morning coffee, plans made for next week, next month.On weekends, we lose ourselves in crowds, at farmers’ marketsand busy cafes. I want other peopleto bear witness to this life we have built.To delight, through transience, in you.That was a year ago, but I’m still chasingimprobable transformations:A capacity for multitasking.A knack for remembering faces.An errant phone call.

夏作者：朴杪腌豇豆的咸香里蝙蝠转向。我们的边缘都已生出褶皱。因彼此溶于阳光的轮廓、因注视，再度面露神色。等命定的风雨穿过匆匆绿意下未完成的结构。行走以外尽是无聊之事。除去昆虫干裂的尸体，一切不再可燃，却仍被消耗。远去的石制寓言、曾将其刻制的情感，而今透明如一场午后的睡梦。

summertranslated by PLSbats spin in the salty smell of pickled black-eyed peascreases grow out of our edgesbecause of their contours dispersing in sunlight,and of staring, the expressions start to appear.waiting for the destined weather to traversethe unfinished structure in the fleeting green.there is only boredom other than walking.everything else is incombustible apart fromthe cracking bodies of insects, yet they are still being exhausted.the distant fables made of stonesthe feelings that once sculpted them, are now clearas the dream from a siesta.