鹰

梁积林

阿拉善盟，蒙古高原的上空

一只鹰的翅膀上究竟能驮动多大的寂静

它盘旋，它俯冲，它踅乎

突然就唳了一声

一个人的思念也不过如此

一个人的伤心也不过如此

一个人的遁世也不过如此一匹走出沙漠的双峰驼

昂首，孤傲，挟带着我身体里的冷峻

看鹰

看一粒太阳的舍利

巴特尔，或者就是那个叫布仁孟和的牧人

我喜欢什么来着——

从左旗到右旗

五百多公里的距离

就是那个有六十八度酒一样烈的人名字

琪琪格，红

红琪琪格

鹰像太阳，太阳

像鹰

选自《诗刊》九月号

The Eagle

Liang Jilin

In the sky over Alxa League on the Mongolian plateau, an eagle flies,

carrying on its wings an enormous amount of silence.

It circles, it dives, it tilts,

suddenly it lets out a screech,

as focused as when we miss someone,

as penetrating as our sorrows,

as willful as when we reject the world.

A double-humped camel walks out from the desert,

head high, aloof, on a mission to convey my coolness,

looking at the eagle,

looking at the grain of relic buried in the sun.

Tell them, Baghatur, or the herder called Buren Menghe,

what is it that I like—

from the Left Banner to the Right Banner,

with five hundred plus kilometers in between,

there's the one as fiery as some sixty-eight-proof spirits—

a flower, in red,

a red flower.

The eagle takes after the sun, the sun,

an eagle. 

梁积林，甘肃山丹县人。中国作家协会会员。甘肃诗歌八骏之一。参加过诗刊社第二十一届青春诗会。鲁迅文学院第二十九届高级研修班学员。著有诗集《河西大地》《西北偏北》《部落》《文学陇军八骏金品典藏•诗歌卷•梁积林的诗》等多部和短篇小说集《寻找道尔基》，长篇小说《付楼镇》。

木芙蓉

余笑忠

如今我相信，来到梦里的一切

都历经长途跋涉

偶尔，借我们的梦得以停歇

像那些离开老房子的人

以耄耋之年，以老病之躯

结识新邻居

像夕光中旋飞的鸽子

一只紧随着另一只

仿佛，就要凑上去耳语

像寒露后盛开的木芙蓉

它的名字是借来的，因而注定

要在意义不明的角色中

投入全副身心

选自《诗刊》九月号

Hibiscus

Yu Xiaozhong

Now I believe all that appear in dreams

have taken a long, arduous journey,

and by chance come to our dreams to rest with us.

Much like those who left their old homes,

now antediluvian,

get acquainted with new neighbors.

Much like the pigeons in the glow of sunset,

circling near one another

nudge even closer to whisper.

Much like hibiscus that blooms after autumn frost,

its name tells its borrowed status, predetermined

to take an ambiguous role,

will do almost any task.

余笑忠，1965年1月生于湖北蕲春。1982年考入北京广播学院文艺编辑系。曾获《星星诗刊》、《诗歌月刊》联合评选的“2003 中国年度诗歌奖”、第三届“扬子江诗学奖诗歌奖”、第十二届“十月文学奖诗歌奖”。现供职于湖北广播电视台音乐广播部。 

松针无数

李云

松鼠和鸟可能会数得清楚

用十指肯定是数不过来

松针无数

飞针走线

缝补山色溟濛

绣出一屏锦绣

天地间 细针密缕

拾一枚松针在手

或用竹扒搂集入筐

回家盛火

庸常的生活需要松针

深扎麻木的穴位

激活一种激情

生存一种勇气

松针何时在悄悄地生长我不知道

松针无声的落我会听见

月夜梦里

牛毛细雨般地下窸窣窗外

所谓金针度人

我不会等到

望满山苍松如盖似伞

南山 恳请让松针度我

走出焦虑的中年困境

选自《诗刊》九月号

A MOUNTAIN OF PINE NEEDLES

Li Yun

Squirrels and birds are probably experts at counting them,

counting them with ten fingers won’t be the way to go.

Too many pine needles to count.

Pine needles fly along nature's thread,

sewing the misty mountain scenery,

embroider a screen of resplendent brocade.

Heaven and earth in fine stitches.

Collect pine needles by hand

or rake them into a basket

and return home assured of fires.

They're much needed in an ordinary life.

Insert one needle deeply into a numb acupoint

to activate a passion,

to revive a kind of courage.

I am clueless to the change of pine needles.

I hear their silent falling

in a moonlit night, while I dream;

drizzle falls that way, rustles outside the window.

Glorious is the golden needle, but the wait is long,

and soon the mountain will be dense with old-growth pines,

Mt. Nanshan1, I beg you to invoke the pine needles with magic

to rise above my middle-aged muddles.

Note:

1.Nanshan: Lushan, a renowned mountain situated in the northern part of Jiangxi province in Central China. Nanshan is immortalized by a poem written by the poet Tao Yuanming (c. 365-427 CE). Here are two lines from Tao's verse that immortalizes Nanshan：

“Picking chrysanthemums under the eastern hedge, 

I leisurely gaze at Mt. Nanshan in the distance."

李 云，安徽省作家协会秘书长，《诗歌月刊》主编，中作协会员，鲁迅文学院33届学员。曾有小说，诗歌，散文在《人民日报》，《小说月报原创版》《传奇传记文学》《诗刊》《诗选刊》《星星》《诗江南》、《海燕》、《绿风》《清明》，《北京文学》《延河》、《百花园》等刊物刊发作品，有作品获奖并入选年鉴和选本。 

大意如此   

张 琳

有些东西，生来就是大的，比如大海

有些东西，至死也是小的，比如小草

还有一些东西

我认识她时就老了，比如老家

我，正慢慢经历着

从小到大，再渐渐衰老的过程

——我的一生

就像一棵小草，想起大海，如临故乡

选自中国诗歌网每日好诗 

A GLIMPSE OF SOMETHING

Zhang Lin

Some things are big from birth, like oceans.

Some things are small ’till death, like grass.

Still a few other things

were already old when we got acquainted, like this old family home.

I myself, am gradually passing from small to big,

through the journey of growing old and feeble.

—All my life

I am like a sprig of grass, thinking of the ocean, as if that is home.

张 琳，1989年生人，山西文学院签约作家。出版诗集《纸蝴蝶》《人间这么美》。

边地之边

李轻松

我执着于这边地之边，界限之限

那偏离了主流的航道，那乱了的阵脚

那些流亡的人、那些流云

从天空、从小径、从稻田里溃退

剩下的是山川遗址、矿里废墟

一片旷野里的千里寂静

一团残阳里的猛禽之眼

原雪收不住少年与幼崽

他们新鲜的模样，浮出脸庞的山口

雪花扑闪着眼睫。一条河保鲜了血脉与血性

让一夜的大风雪找到自己的宿主

面孔生动，每一颗恒牙都有新的生辰

一些事物埋了土，一些人埋了名

都具有了原始的生存气质

一种边地的透明空气——

吹得我如妖似仙！

我空有虎狼之心，流水之意

我被风雪灌满的乳汁

喂养那凶猛的野兽，也喂养那柔弱的动物

山鹰提升了这世界的悬崖，雪莲提升了我的高度

那孤绝之境！用通灵者的嘴唇说出——

那三十九场大雪，将我生于每一场雪后……

选自《诗刊》八月号

AT THE OUTER EDGE

Li Qingsong

I'm determined to stay here at the margins, on the outer edges,

wandering off the mainstream, thrown into uncertainty,

in exile like the restless clouds

that have retreated from the sky, paths and fields.

All that remain are ruins, weathered landscape, and deserted mines.

Boundless silence in the wilderness,

through the dying sun the hawk's watchful eyes.

The first snow can’t rein in the adolescent or the cubs.

Their tender looks float out of the mountain pass.

Snowflakes twinkle on their eyelashes, warm blood raging and flowing.

Even the overnight blizzard will find its home ground.

On their animated faces, each permanent tooth will have its day to take place.

Some things are buried, so are names,

until they reveal their original essence.

An air so clear and unique to land’s end

blows on me until I feel like an elf or sprite!

I house a ferocious drive and a tender heart, 

with milk replenished by winds and blizzards,

I nurture the beasts and the weaklings in me.

The eagles take the world to a new cliff,

the snow lotus raises me to a new height.

That untouchable place! I speak through a shaman— 

There have been thirty-nine blizzards, I was reborn after each snow.

李轻松，女，跨界写作者。八十年代开始诗歌创作，出版诗集《垂落之姿》、《李轻松诗歌》等五部，并参加第十八届青春诗会，荣获第五届华文青年诗人奖，首都师范大学驻校诗人。九十年代开始小说创作，著有长篇小说《花街》、《心碎》、《大西迁》等七部，曾多次荣登图书排行榜。曾在《南方周末》开设个人专栏，著有散文随笔集与童话集若干。近年开始戏剧创作，有诗剧、音乐剧、京剧、话剧呈现于舞台上，另有影视作品多部。现居沈阳、职业编剧。