秦风2022年度双语诗选

孤 光（组诗）

孤光，你是灵魂的燃烧着的尽望

“别告诉月正亮，给我看破碎

玻璃上闪烁的光。”

不断生长的圆与满，形成更大的黑洞与陷阱

沉陷于深渊。黑色的大地以及更黑的夜晚

一切悬空，谁的举头与尽望把自己照亮

这孤光犹如子宫，只在苦难里有发光的身体

黑夜终将破碎，在灯火与星星铺成的房顶熄灭

星球与我们始终倾斜以待，明天与我们都会失去

平衡。走丟的月光，像深渊在死亡中睁开的

瞳孔，她的体内是座冰山，仅有一棵燃烧的树

都在以离开的方式，不断地向自己靠近

弦月，以一种尖锐的饥饿啃光自己

孤光，这夜的缺口，是异乡，人间在此走丟

从梦里看到的玻璃，恍恍惚惚的月色与脸

破碎，是尘世间唯一的醒者：

“孤光，你是灵魂的燃烧着的尽望。”

九月：桂花树之上的居士

“……，……忽然所有的空间静止，

停下来，静默，把自己打开……。”

静默的九月，这个秋天空洞而狭窄的

空间。庭院的桂花，居士一样双手打开

空无的意义、目的和香气

九月的静默，如抚慰。吹拂秋天浑身

漫天遍野的沉寂与枯萎

绿叶在一夜之间长出深陷忧郁的金色

像九月在自己头顶打坐的镜片

在叶脉断流处，睁开绝望之眼

香的深呼吸，把自己从病毒、热浪与硝烟中

推开。一切都退后，让自己空着

花朵最终是香的孤儿，整个人间，也是。

九月的朝天椒

绿叶都快掉光了，这仿佛是必经的灵肉

分离。如我，八月举起的一支垂直的红色

这九月的温度计：酷热，裸露，尖锐

像黑海呼啸而来的飞弹，一块烧红的

乌克兰上空炸开的弹片与剑指

愤怒的热浪与静默的火焰，烧焦了自己

每个物种，都流落在异国他乡

疫病，死灰不灭的火苗

隐藏着人类所有的真相与疼痛

它蒙住了人间的半张嘴和脸

大地上到处都是油锅

谁怕，我自有朝天椒浑身的火

Solitary Light (a set of poems)

By Qin Feng

Solitary Light, the Burning Hope of the Soul

"Don't say the moon is shining. Show me

The light

Flickering on the broken glass."

The ever-growing round and full takes the shape of a larger black hole

Sinking into the abyss. Against the black earth and still blacker night,

Everything hangs in the air. Who hath lifted up his head and looked with all his eyes to give light unto himself?

This solitary light is like a uterus, flickering only in suffering.

The night will break and die out on a roof of lights and stars.

The planet is always tilted to us. Tomorrow we will all be out of

Balance. The lost moon is like a pupil open

In the abyss of death. There's an iceberg inside her, with nothing but a burning tree.

Everything is in the way of leaving, constantly close to themselves.

The crescent moon gnawed itself away with a sharp hunger.

Solitary light, the gap of the night, is a foreign land, where the world is lost.

In the dream, I see the glass, trance of moonlight and face.

Broken is the only awaken in the world:

"Solitary light, the burning hope of the soul."

September: a Hermit in the Osmanthus Tree

"... And... Suddenly the world is motionless.

Calm down, release yourself... "

Silent September, a hollow and narrow

Space in autumn. Like a hermit, osmanthus flowers in the courtyard release the empty meaning, purpose, and aroma

The silence of September is soothing. All over the fields are blowing silence and wilt.

The leaves having turned a deep golden shade of melancholy overnight

Like the lens of September meditating on its head

Open their eyes of despair where the veins break.

Take a deep breath of the aroma, pushing yourself away from the virus, heat

And smoke of gunpowder. Step back. Everything steps back and leave me alone.

Flowers are ultimately the orphans of incense, and so is the whole world.

Pod Pepper in September

The green leaves are falling off, as if it were a necessary separation

Of spirit and flesh. Like me, a vertical red held up by August.

The September thermometer: hot, bare and sharp

Like a missile whistling in from the Black Sea, a piece of red-hot shrapnel from Ukrainian sky.

The sword pointing to the angry heat and silent fire, scorch themselves.

Each species wanders far from home.

Blight, an inextinguishable flame

Hiding all the truth and pain of humanity.

It covers half the mouth and face of the world.

The earth is full of frying pans.

Who's scared? I'm hot tempered as chili peppers.

2022年9月29日发于《国际诗歌翻译研究中哦行》

2022年12月12日发于《ASP国际诗苑》

雪 山 草 地 间（组诗）

大渡河，五月的弹孔

五月的河流，依然爬雪山过草地

活着就是再次趟过自己的死亡

苦难从未解冻，高原与我在融化

成为流水，与流逝的一部分

每处漩涡，都是落水的五月

浴血的急流，举头撞向河岸

上岸的流水，坚守成为石头

把落水的五月，垒成一座纪念碑

石碑捧起所有失去的肉体与姓名

给苦难与死亡，以高过人间的站姿

五月的大渡河，时间的流血

涛声，捂住了川西高原的哭

我是一块中弹的五月的弹孔

射出的另一个黎明与自己

泸定桥，扛着明天上岸

一座桥，守不住自己

一条河，留不住自己

谁先于时间的铁索抵达彼岸

彼岸，是此岸的枪口与弹头

流水是泸定桥出膛的子弹

击中最初的誓言与最后的遗址

每座受伤的城市都有张空无的面孔

时间最终在荒芜的道路上失去疼痛

正如脚下的这条河流

不断遗忘，又不断离开自己

最初的敌人是一群波涛汹涌的自己

最后的自己是一座千疮百孔的铁索桥

达到彼岸的人

无不是踏过自己的头颅

红原，放牧的星空

在这里，高原与云朵把自己放牧成牛羊

在这里，草地与星空把自己放牧成花海

在这里，雪山与六月把自己放牧成河流

在这里，放牧自己：内心的水草与狼

“救世主的光环是万千颗粒的愁苦，

在这里，我的泪水够不到你。”

无边风花的诵辞，是紫色的

什么的光芒，开出辽阔高原自由的红色

花朵是戴在每个凌晨头上的草帽

提前预言，失火的头颅与人间

我知道，我就是这离离原上草

草原的肉体，只生长春风与野火

我只是在黑夜往前探了一步

四周的星光都是黎明的推门声

藏寨，活在陡峭之上

那么高的陡峭

用一种危险避开更多的危险

悬空的石头，把河流与高山

冰雪、云彩以及阳光垒在一起

高于人间烟火的高原与藏寨

成为一种防备与抵御

太多太多的迁徙与流离

它明白，苦难才是生存的主人

它收容了所遭遇的一切

一切的善与恶，生与死

守着高原的人，终将成为高原

远远地高于，烟火人间，与自己

做一颗太阳，在头颅之上生长

像冰川，与阳光一起挺拔或融化

大藏寺，山水合掌的恩施

有一种道路，是独自离开

向上的高原与峡谷，成为一种退守

高原每抬高一步，天空便低了一头

在人间，欲望的每一步都是苦难的深陷

有些灵魂，给肉体跪下

有些命运，给苦难跪下

有些天空，给大地跪下

有些泪滴，给自己跪下

一炷香，把自己插入灰烬中

替那些跪下去的事物孤单地站着

俯身的光芒，是内心的钟声

仰视的头颅，是山顶的云烟

我不在人间。在白云外

以草原的自牧，与高原的自诩

Between Snowy Mountains and Marshland (a series of poems)

By QIN Feng

The Dadu River’s Bullet Holes in May

The River in May climbs the snow-capped mountains and crosses the marshland as usual

To live is to wade through one’s own death again

Suffering has never thawed; the plateau and I are melting

Into water and part of the passage

Every whirlpool is May falling in the water

The bloody torrent crashes headlong into the bank

The water goes ashore and stands fast as a stone

Putting up the fallen May a monument

The stone holds all the lost bodies and names

Giving suffering and death a standing position higher above the world

The Dadu River bleeds in May

The waves covered the cry of plateau west of Sichuan

I'm another dawn and myself

Being shotted out from the bullet hole in May

Luding Bridge Carrying Tomorrow Ashore

A bridge cannot hold itself

A river cannot keep itself

Who reached the other side before the wire of time

The other side is the muzzle and bullet of this side

The flowing water is the bullet of Luding Bridge

Hitting the original oath with the last site

Every wounded city has an empty face

Time finally lost its pain on the deserted road

Like the river at your feet

Constantly forgets, and constantly leaves itself

The initial enemy is a group of surging self

The last self is the iron bridge full of holes

People who reach the other side

All step over their own heads

Hongyuan, Grazing Stars

Here the plateau and the clouds graze themselves into cattle and sheep

Here the grass and stars graze themselves into a sea of flowers

Here, the snowy mountains and June herd themselves into rivers

Here, graze yourself: the inner water plant and Wolf

"The aura of the Savior is a thousand grains of sorrow,

Here, my tears cannot reach you."

The chant of the boundless wind flower is purple

What light, the free red of the vast plateau

Flowers are straw hats worn every morning

Foretold, the burning head and the world

I know, I am the grass in the plateau

The flesh of the plateau grows only spring breeze and wildfire

I just took a step forward into the night

All around the starlight was the sound of dawn knocking on doors

Tibetan Village on the Steep

So steep

One danger to ward off more dangers

The hanging stone puts rivers and mountains

Snow, clouds, and sunlight together

Higher than the human world of Tibetan villages on the plateau

The stone Becomes a kind of defense and resist

Too much migration and homeless

It understands that suffering is the master of existence

It takes in everything that happens to it

Good and evil, life and death

Those who keep the plateau will eventually become the plateau

Far above the world and themselves

To be a sun, to grow upon the head

Like a glacier, standing or melting with the sun

Grand Tibetan Temple, the Gift of Mountains and Rivers

There is a way to leave alone

The highlands and valleys become a retreat

The higher the plateau rises, the lower the sky drops

In the world, every step of desire is a deep suffering

Some souls kneel to the flesh

Some fates kneel down to suffering

Some skies kneel to the earth

Some tears kneel down to themselves

A joss stick sticks itself in the ashes

Standing alone for the things that kneel

The bending light is the inner bell

The up-looking head is the cloud of the mountain

I'm not in the world, but beyond the white clouds

Self-grazing on the plateau

2022年5月6日发于《诗歌万里行》

2022年6月22日发于《ASP国际诗苑》

秦风：残阳如血(三首)

西夏王陵

一场惨不忍睹的大火，整整三个月。

逐水草而居的牧马人，慢慢

熄灭,从此寸草不生。

蓝蓝的天空白云没有飘，白云下面

马儿吃不着草。一条河流失去

流向。宽阔的胸膛长满

铁蹄铮铮,与炽烫的石头

一场惨不忍睹的大火，最终只剩下

一捧黄土。废墟，与焦土

完整地保存一个民族的

彻底消失。草原，空空荡荡

尘沙飞扬。

一场惨不忍睹的大火，整整三个月。

残阳如血。那些丢盔弃甲的陵墓。

仍然保持王者的尊严, 以残缺之躯

为流浪的疆域，作最后的誓死

抵抗。

一场惨不忍睹的大火,整整三个月。

幸存的西夏文,残垣断壁。目睹

大火从燃烧到熄灭,整个屠杀的

过程。西夏文,最孤独的战士，

停止行走。成为西夏亡灵的

证词，与守墓者。

只有风,像后来的旅行者

偶尔沉默地,经过。

The Blood-hued Setting Sun (in three stanzas)

By Qin Feng

The Royal Mausoleum of the Western Xia Dynasty

An horrendous fire, for a good three moons.

The horse herders, that migrated with waters and grass,

Have since died down, and no grass has grown.

In the azure sky, white clouds refuse to float,

'Neath which horses graze no grass. A river

Has lost its course of flux. The broad bosom

Is o'ergrown with clip-clop iron hoofs, and scathing stones.

An horrendous fire has left in its wake nothing

But a handful of brown soil. In the ruins & scorched earth

The loss of a people in its entirety is preserved.

The grassland, in all its hollowness,

Is fraught with flying dust and sand.

An horrendous fire, for a good three moons.

In the blood-hued setting sun,

Are tombs with arms and armours scattered around.

They, in their royal pride still intact,

Are vows avowed to fight till their end,

With their bodies mutilated.

An horrendous fire, for a good three moons.

The remnant Tangut scripts, lying in debris,

Have borne witness to the whole massacre,

From setting fire to extinction.

The Tangut language, the last warrior,

Stopped its stride, & stood testimony to,

And tomb keeper of, the dead soul of the Western Xia.

None but the winds, like travelers to come, pass by,

From time to time, without a word.

沙湖

天苍苍，野茫茫，风吹草低芦苇长。

一片水域，温柔一击。一泻千里的

沙峰,前赴后继,戛然而止。

一滴水，止住了荒漠沙丘此起彼伏的

放纵。风声,水声,与青青草甸。

流动的沙丘内心积满苦难的水。

湖心。一只丹顶鹤，拍打着身上

江南的尘土，和乡音。一尾尾鱼抖出

相思的漩涡。而大海和故乡

在千里之外。

风，一直在往北吹。无处不在的

流动，或者流浪。泪眼汪汪的

水域，紧紧地抱住，

沙丘不断溃败的脚步。

沙湖怀抱芦苇，宛若内心捧着，

失而复得的江南。塞上江南

被五月吹拂得春心荡漾。

The Lake in the Sands

Under the vast sky, in the boundless wilderness,

The wind blows the low grass & tall reeds aslant.

An expanse of water dealt a tender blow.

The sand dunes, raging & roaring all along, stopped short.

A drop of water has staunched the unruly play

Of desert dunes. Then, the soughing wind,

The rippling water, and the green marshy meadows.

A pool of miseries in the migrant dune's heart.

The lake center. A red-crested crane

Is flapping off the dirt & dust, and his native accent.

The fish are wiggling out whirlpools of lovesickness.

But the sea and homeland are thousands of miles away.

The wind, the wind is blowing northward.

Ubiquitious is the flux, or roving.

The all tearful waters are holding fast

To the retreating steps of dunes.

The sandy lake holds the reeds in its lap, as if

Its heart embraces a South China lost and regained.

The South China beyond the Pass

Is blown astir with the passion of May.

贺兰山

贺兰山,引颈奋蹄嘶啸的战马。

时刻保持出关的战姿。一种静止的

驰骋。杀气腾腾，锐不可当。

群峰，横刀立马。壮行的战鼓

批着寒光闪闪的铠甲，冲锋在

战争的最前沿。

贺兰山，独臂将军。踏破贺兰山

缺。谁都阻止不住你的

一夜孤行。朔风，飞沙走石，

吹裂战争，以及刀光剑影的脸。

跋涉与翻越，烽火狼烟，

沿着祖国防御的

缺口，继续北上，守护你

肥沃的女人，风吹草动的

羊群,与边疆。

贺兰山，一个忠诚戍边的

唐诗宋词。大漠的明月，投笔

从戎。诗人，秋后沙场点兵。

一轮残月，挺立在你刺刀的

锋尖上，为诗歌在宫廷里的

歌舞升平，死亡一般地,站岗，

放哨。一滴滴浓黑的

冷酷，不断从战刀上

孤独地垂落，穿透唐诗宋词的

动脉。整个大漠与疆土，

被战争涂抹上，

禁止通行的血色。

我背负群山，穿越内心

无边无际的风沙，

与荒漠。

The Helan Mountains

The Helan Mountains, horses

Craning their necks, galloping and neighing,

Are always poised to charge beyond the Pass.

A static gallop. Menacingly, inexorably.

The peaks, astride horses

With broadswords unsheathed.

Battle drums to beef up morale,

Clad in glittering armours,

Are charging at the forefront.

The Helan Mountains, the single-armed General.

Breaking through the mountain pass,

You're unstoppable in your night-long stride.

The north wind, the flying sands and pebbles,

Are cracking the face of war and its rattling sabers.

You trudge and trek, in the balefires and smokes,

Along the gaps in the nation's defense

And further up north,

To guard your fertile women,

Your sheep herds on the wavy grasslands,

And your frontiers.

The Helan Mountains, a Tang or Song poem

That garrisoned the border with a devoted heart.

The bright Moon in the desert,

Putting aside her pen, enlisted as a soldier.

The poet summoned up his troops

Into the battlefield when autumn drew to an end.

The waning moon, up straight

At the tip of your bayonet, stood sentinel like death,

For poetry in its merriment in the royal court.

Lone drops of thick black cruelty kept plummeting

From the sabers, piercing through the pulses

Of Tang and Song poetry. The entire desert

And territories were coated by war

With the bloody hue of "No thoroughfare".

Laden with the mountains at the back,

I'm passing through the endless winds and sands,

and the wilderness, in my heart.

秦风，本名蒲建雄，文学博士，成都文学院特邀作家。曾获首届天府文学作品奖、苏东坡文学奖、李煜文学奖、上海市民诗歌节诗歌奖、意大利梅莱托国际诗歌奖、悉尼国际诗歌节诗人奖。应邀参加第27届（印度）世界诗人大会，著有诗集《独步苍茫》。