为进一步繁荣新时代诗歌，推动汉语诗歌走向世界，激励本土诗人们创作出具有世界影响力的优秀作品，中国诗歌网与美国华盛顿PATHSHARERS BOOKS（出版有季刊21st Century Chinese Poetry）合作开展汉诗英译活动。《诗刊》每期刊登的诗作及中国诗歌网“每日好诗”中的佳作，将有机会被译成英语，刊于21st Century Chinese Poetry，并在中国诗歌网做专题展示。

寻亲记     胡茗茗

夜半醒来，习惯性寻摸肉乎乎的小身体

若干年前是摸女儿，现在是猫咪

大手掌盖上去，我们的体温有太多的融合

时常忧伤它七倍的老去，就在昨晚

它久久盯着天花板不停嘶叫

阴性的猫眼里一定有什么在上下飞翔

心念起，诵经，依然不安

我央求善意的魂灵尽快离去

哪怕是来寻亲的老父亲

父亲，我的手越来越像你

这一夜我睡得深沉，生死的酒杯已然端稳

那簌簌而下的梨花、杏花、樱花、天堂鸟……

选自《诗刊》

Looking for Lost Family

Waking in the middle of the night, hands habitually feel for a soft warm body.

Years ago it used to be my daughter, now it's a cat.

My big palm rests on it, our body heat has a lot to commingle.

Often I feel sad that it is aging seven times faster, just last night

she stared at the ceiling for a long time, growling and yowling;

her feline feminine eyes must have seen something hovering.

I tried mindfulness, tried chanting, but still was restless.

I begged the good soul to leave us as soon as possible

even if it was my late elderly father who came to find his family.

Father, my hands are becoming more and more like yours.

Tonight I sleep soundly, the chalice of life is in good hands.

Rustling in the wind are the pear blossoms, plum blossoms, cherry blossoms, birds of paradise…

胡茗茗，诗人、编辑、中国作家协会会员。曾参加《诗刊》社第二十三届青春诗会、鲁迅文学院第二十二届高研班。获2010年度“中国作家出版集团”奖、第三届“中国女性文学”奖、河北省第十一届“文艺振兴奖”、台湾第四届“叶红诗歌”奖首奖、《诗选刊》年度“杰出诗人”奖等。作品散见《人民文学》、《诗刊》、《钟山》等刊物及各种诗歌选本。出版诗集《诗瑜迦》、《诗地道》等四部。现就职于河北电影制片厂。

夜 路        谈 骁

父亲把杉树皮归成一束，

那是最好的火把。他举着点燃的树皮

走在黑暗中，每当火焰旺盛，

他就捏紧树皮，让火光暗下来，

似乎漆黑的长路不需要过于明亮的照耀。

一路上，父亲都在控制燃烧的幅度，

他要用手中的树皮领我们走完夜路。

一路上，我们说了不少话，

声音很轻，脚步声也很轻，

像几团面目模糊的影子。

而火把始终可以自明，

当它暗淡，火星仍在死灰中闪烁；

当它持久地明亮，那是快到家了。

父亲抖动手腕，夜风吹走死灰，

再也不用俭省，再也不用把夜路

当末路一样走，火光蓬勃，

把最后的路照得明亮无比，

我们也通体亮堂，像从巨大的光明中走出。

选自《诗刊》

Father bundled up the spruce barks,

that will be the best torch. He walks in the dark

with the burning barks, and squeezes the barks

to trim the light whenever the flames get too wild,

perhaps the long dark road doesn't need a light overly bright.

Along the way, Father continues to control the pace of the burning

to lead us through the night with the barks in his hand.

Along the way, we talked quite a lot,

in low voices, and our footsteps are also very light,

like a few shadows with blurry faces.

And the torch can always reignite itself,

when it becomes dim, there are still sparkles twinkling amid the ashes;

finally it's lit more steadily, and we're almost home.

Father shakes his wrist, the night breeze blows away the ashes,

no need to save the fuel anymore, no more midnight

dreary journey as if on a road of no return, the torch is afire,

illuminating the last stretch beautifully,

we look bright, too, as if walking out from a huge light.

谈骁，1987年生于湖北恩施。出版诗集《以你之名》《涌向平静》。曾参加诗刊社第33届青春诗会。湖北文学院第12届签约作家。现居武汉，供职于长江文艺出版社。

愿望博物馆     朴 耳 

从自然博物馆出来，我开始许愿：

给我一盆绿藻

就有了通行证穿越寒武纪

我要一头狮子以及覆盖草原的权力

养一匹马

灵感来自方圆千里

捕获一只蝙蝠

就拥有一支黑帮

我喜欢驯鹿

它们跳跃时能还原诗意

还是豢养猎豹吧

我要控制闪电

我选择老虎

同时选择心腹之患

我的愿望是得到一只海豚

美德令迷航无力反驳

为猫头鹰疗伤

然后接受它的祝福

我看中了鼹鼠

我想要随意躲藏的能力

不如给我一头非洲象

我宁愿与暴君共处

让我驯服一只鹰

之后驯服自由

养一只比目鱼

容忍矫正不了的偏见

我想要一只猴子

请它演出孤独的喜剧

是不是学会了蜜蜂的舞蹈

就等于无限接近神旨

把我变成蚂蚁好了

一生只做一件事

选自《诗刊》

The Wish Museum

Coming out from  Natural History Museum, lurking in me is the wish to become

a plate of green algae

to survive the Cambrian Period,

or a lion

to prowl through the entire grassland,

or a horse

to collect inspirations from a thousand mile radius,

or a bat

to start an underground mob,

or a leaping reindeer

to recapture some poetic beauty,

or a cheetah

to peer with lightning,

or I should choose to be a tiger

and together pick a darkest adversary,

or a dolphin

with its virtue to correct for wandering,

or a wounded owl

to receive its blessings afterwards.

I also fancy to be a mole

for its ability to hide at will.

Or give me an African elephant,

a preferred tyrant to coexist,

or an eagle to be tamed

to tether freedom afterwards,

or a flounder

to learn to tolerate stubborn prejudices,

or a monkey

to play a one-man comedy show,

or a dancing bee

to get infinitely close to nature’s laws,

or just turn me into an ant

to do only one thing in a lifetime. 

朴耳，原名王前，一九八七年生，祖籍江苏，现居北京。诗作见于《解放军文艺》《解放军报》等。

炼化天上的云朵     韦廷信 

在炼化完手上的钢铁和石油后

他开始往山顶走

山顶有一亭子曰修仙亭

他静坐亭中

任凭云朵进出身体

他把身体里的雄狮，猛虎

难啃的骨头，坚硬的兽壳

把那脊梁之上的血与泪

统统炼化。让身体对外部的敌意有更清晰的警觉

让难以言状的状变得掷地有声

冬雷夏雨后，在那些美好的清晨与夜晚

他掏出一只只云兽

去找那些已是陌路的人

曾有多少挚爱

此刻就有多少只云兽下山 

选自《诗刊》

Refining the Clouds in the Sky

by Wei Yanxin

With what's at hand, he finished smelting steel and refining oil,

and began to walk up the mountain.

At the mountaintop, he entered Ascension Pavilion

and sat quietly in it,

allowing clouds to move freely in and out of his body.

He sanctified the ferocious lions and tigers in his body,

purifying everything else, from

the steely bones,  rigid carcass,

to the blood and tears inside the spinal cord.

External hostilities became more accentuated,

and every old blob shaped up.

Seasons later, after summer rain and winter storms,

in one of those pristine mornings and evenings,

he began to release nebulous creatures

to look for family and friends who had become strangers.

For every one he had loved,

a nebulous creature was sent down to the mountain. 

韦廷信，福建省作家协会会员。1990年，出生福建霞浦，鲁迅文学院学员。作品见于《诗刊》《作家文摘》《民族文学》《福建文学》等。

桅杆村        羌人六 

一个人有一个人的村庄

作为桅杆村的子民，偶尔

我会变得跟自己毫无瓜葛

似乎拥有幻形的魔力

蛰伏在桅杆村的角角落落

有时，我是地里的一茬庄稼，

家门前那条河，或者一棵树

有时我张开双臂，看见

一副亮闪闪的翅膀

有时，我嘴里含着一窝鸟叫，

一块月光，一粒麦子，

外婆腰椎上的疼，一把锯子

忽然断裂的空响

——我秘密观察着村庄

全部的感情和思想，也热衷

这徒劳无功的替换，早晚

我会衰老，长出皱纹和鳞

脱掉人形，与它们抱作一团：

在桅杆村的土里面。

选自《诗刊》

The Mast Village

by Qiang Renliu

Each person has his own village.

As a son of the Mast Village, at times

I feel myself irrelevant to me,

as if a magical force

hunkers down at every corner of my village,

and I am only a crop in the field,

the stream in front of my house, or a tree.

When I raise my arms, I may see

a pair of glittering wings.

Sometimes I peep like nestling chicks,

or feel like the moonlight, a grain,

the ache in Grandma’s tailbone, a saw,

or the thud when something suddenly breaks

—I watch my village quietly, observe

its mind and encompassing ethos, and opt eagerly

for every interexchange as futile as it may be,

sooner or later I will age, will grow wrinkles and scales,

molt the human shape before embracing all the others:

under the soil of the Mast Village.

羌人六，曾获《人民文学》“紫金·人民文学之星”散文佳作奖、四川少数民族文学奖、滇池文学奖。著有诗集《太阳神鸟》，散文集《食鼠之家》，中短篇小说集《伊拉克的石头》，长篇小说《人的脸树的皮》。

“汉诗英译” 同步更新于美国“21st Century Chinese Poetry”网站 

http://www.modernchinesepoetry.com/

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