Bilingual Readings of Spring '25 Issue

天使之眼翻译：诗验室耐嚼而热情的眼神闻我明快丝柔润滑的线从月亮身上飘过游着其粘稠的不快往我的血液压气我漫无目的的焦虑凝住而你刻意且均匀的步伐滑过并渗透我的魂你的尘蒸发着我的裤子如若有所思的叶子拍打着我你是有着四爪的变形者将我像预示般吞噬一份本能沉默的祝祷我崩塌我的内部漩涡集体往前挪动

Eyes of an Angelby Shawntaye M. ScottChewy, intense eyes smell mebrisk milky, silky threadsfloat on through the moonswimming its gooey furylowering vapors on my blood.My aimless anxiety freezesas your calculated kindred stepsglide and permeate my psyche.your dust evaporating my pantswhisking me as wistful leaves.A shapeshifter on four pawsyou engulfed me as a presagea benediction of visceral silenceI crumble my internal whirlpoolinking onward universally. 

七夜的倒数作者：阿勒七个夜晚升起，火焰朝向火焰，它们在狭窄的巷道相遇，像潮水退去时残留的字迹，一封无人拆阅的信，在晨雾中泛白。六颗心脏低语，第七颗已经停息，它们敲击着木门，但门早已敞开，风穿堂而过，回音在空旷的长廊盘旋，指尖在灰烬中摩挲，寻找未曾写下的词语。五朵玫瑰枯萎，四盏灯闪烁，夜晚倾倒泉水，洗净被遗忘的街道，三道影子在窗口浮现，两道回声沿墙滑行，而第一步，始终悬在夜的边缘。

the countdown of seven nightstranslated by PLSseven nights ascend, flame towards flamethey meet each other in a narrow alleylike the residual traces when the tides are gonea sealed letter, pallid in the morning mist.six hearts whisper, the seventh has stoppedthey knock on the wooden door, which is already openwind sweeps through the hall, echoes swirl in the empty corridorfingertips fumble in the ashes, searching for unwritten wordsfive roses wither, four lamps blinknight pours out spring water, washes the forgotten streetsthree shadows float on the window, two echoes glide across the wallbut the first step, still lingers at the edge of night

山坡作者：刘炯头上，羽翅的火焰忽然蹿起扰动气流。心也跟着烫了一下沿拓荒人耕种的时蔬往上我的手小于驱鸟手套与几只鸭子分享，池塘的明净坐下，冬天不再阴郁

hillslopetranslated by PLSabove your head, the flames of wings soarstirring the air. then a hot rushthrough your heartup along the vegetationcultivated by the settlersmy hands are smaller than garden glovesto share with a few ducks, the clarity of the pondto sit down, so the winter no longer depresses

见证者翻译：诗验室        一把黑色的伞飘落        于曼哈顿的浪上         仰面朝天在此处安身或许并没有那么糟那么多人的家无人的故土。墓园里的鬼魂在街上游走象征性地问着何时为何什么而你却将不解隐藏因为你已见过地图：一个点一把黑色的伞飘落在标记着“X”的地方。

Witness IIby C.Z. LiuA black umbrella fellagainst the tides of Manhattanupside downIt wouldn’t be so badto lay herein the home of millionsHeimat of none.And so the ghosts at the cemeterywalked around townasking the typical whenwhy and whatBut you hid your confusionfor you’ve seen the map: A dotA black umbrella fellWhereX marked the spot.

霾作者：寻泽风从冬天的尽头赶来在第七日停下 ——铁锈爬满钟摆，困意是年轮最后的证词田野在雾中塌陷桥的骨骼沉入地心鼾声压弯了野草人们的居所因忽然失去质量而缓缓弥散尘埃是唯一的锚山，碎成一片剥落的天空风在裂缝中沉默我们穿过清江影子与江水绞成绳索在折叠成梯子的太阳下每一步都是雾的刻度

smogtranslated by PLSwind hurries from the end of winterstops on the seventh day—rust swarms the pendulumdrowsiness is the last testimony of the yearfields crumble in the mistskeletons of a bridge sink to the groundsnores bend the grassesthe abodes of villagersdisperse slowlyfor they’re emptied of their contentdust is the sole anchormountains, a slice of peeled skywind speechless among the crackswe cross the Qing riverour shadows wrestling against the waterunder the sun creased into a laddereach step is a measurement of the mist

回声之夜作者：阿勒你不会在我的唇间找到你的名字，它已经在昨夜被盐分浸透，在玻璃窗后的对白中，被阴影遗弃。你不会在门前等到一个陌生人，雨滴悬在空气里，像破裂的钟声，时间站在街灯之下，拨弄着夜晚残余的音符。你不会在眼中窥见泪水，井已干涸，石头仍在沉默，只有脚步声穿过午夜，被回声缓缓地吞没。

night of echoestranslated by PLSyou will not find your name between my lipsfor it was permeated by salt yesterdayabandoned by shadows, in the dialogue behind the window.you will not encounter a stranger at your doorstepdrops of rain hang in the air, like exploded bell soundstime, standing beneath a street lampfiddling with the remnant notes of the evening.you will not see a tear in the eyethe well has dried, stones are still silentthe footsteps that traverse the nightare swallowed by echoes, bit by bit

多汁的眼睛                 去年今日此门中                      — 唐.崔护作者：刘炯一定是气候，催生多汁的视线，让许多夜晚相互浸透，界限模糊苦笋的气息剥开旧年，这片密林正以想象的沉默赋予另一个人光阴嫩绿光照处，笃信露水的真理枝头，果实的欲望再显，像极了潜意识漫来痉挛。此刻我不是孤寂的空，而是枝条上无数被窥见的隐秘花期

sappy eyesthis time last year by this door*translated by PLSit must be the climate, that breedsthe sappy view, allowing many a nightto infiltrate each other, borders blurredthe scent of bitter bamboo shoots strip the old year, this forestendows time to another person with imagined silenceupon the tender green light, believing in the truth of dewover treetops the desire of fruits reemerges, so much likethe subconsciousness that brims and cramps. right nowi am no isolated emptiness, but the secretcountless blooming periods glimpsed across the twigs *from a poem written by Cui Hu, a Chinese poet of the Tang dynasty. 

代价作者：朴杪幽绿的气息旋绕着，屋外是潮湿的茫然。一个场景里风的加入，终结了没有引擎轰鸣的童年。造物主和造物已接连逝去。还剩什么在抽搐呢？我们不再服下与自己姓名有关的事物。身后漫长的鸿沟里，流水仍浸润未被收藏的死亡的倒影。列车必须开动前，拔起狗尾草时的“噗嗤”成为体内不断拉长的哨音。

costtranslated by PLSthe emerald air billowsoutside wet confusions.the participation of wind in a scene,ends a childhood without the roars of an engine.the creator and the created are both gone now.what else is left to convulse.we no longer medicate ourselveswith anything related to our names.in the never-ending chasm behind usthe shadows of death yet to be collectedare still soaked by the water.before the train has to take offthe sound from uprooting a foxtailhas become a swelling whistle inside you.