《2021夏季刊》双语诗歌朗诵

乔治·修拉（1859-1891）艺术中的社交隔离翻译：诗验室第二次醒来，数字手表显示：凌晨四时十一分“欧洲新闻电视台”（静音）在屏幕上显示着不同的国家与相应的统计数字。窗外，哥特式的树木忧郁的静物，苹果手机与两本散落的书籍《十九世纪法国艺术家》与《当生命陷落时》（佩玛·丘卓）修拉的《大碗岛的星期天下午》可能违反了保持两米社交距离的规定，画中形象完美的父母命令自己的小孩（很明显）要举止得当，一如那些刚从封城中解放像鸭子一样在当地公园里蹒跚而行的人，戴着墨镜的慢跑者绕着人工湖来回跑动，老人们守丧者一样凝视着湖水宠物狗系着绳（受命），排球混合双打似乎是阳光下唯一的乐趣 ——修拉笔下的大都市在沉闷而愉悦的朦胧中跳动着除波光粼粼的小河之外，还有游艇、帆船、与地平线融成一体的巴黎——但是，是那些帽子、阳伞以及梦幻的轻松气氛让我决定拿起红色马克笔，在两名骑兵、吹长号的怪人、争吵的男人、与偷窥家庭野餐聚会的抽大烟者之间画出“←两米→” ——《星球 C-19》会是一部关于滥杀无辜的隐形病毒（情节有点弱）且枯燥无味的“星际迷航”系列‘这就是生活，吉姆，它不是我们想象中的那样’（这么快就中了，史波克先生）我故意用很多“←两米→” 来“摧毁”修拉的精美绘画（丘卓）就“亲近恐惧”与“当下这一刻是最好的老师”提出佛学智慧，然后水壶开了发出病态的音乐。“瑜伽有机助眠茶”包装的标签上写着“耐心会有回报的”。“那些有吃有喝却仍旧不满的健康隔离者从来都不是英雄。前线工作者才是英雄” —— 当地免费报纸这样宣称。“欧洲新闻电视台”试图避开引起恐慌的内容，报道着人们在阳台上互相交谈、购物者来回绕行只为安全回到车上以及大量医院镜头、南美狮子大闹坟场挖掘机随时待命的画面。喝茶吧，不要摸脸。多年后，孩子们可能会在操场上高唱：“叮叮当，叮叮当，新冠来啦。咳啊咳，吐啊吐。我们都要倒”。还要多久，各大药店就会开始销售“抗新冠口服液”与“升级版抗新冠口服液”：“不要在开电动汽车时服药。”或者可能学校已不复存在，一如曾经的山顶洞人、作衣物用的动物皮毛、燧石用具与骨制针器 ——有人在半夜发了条带笑脸表情的信息：“如果你听到一只手在水池里清洗的声音，那么你就不是安全的。”

Social Distancing in the art of Georges Seurat (1859-1891)by Kevin KielyAwake a second time, the digital clock at 04.11   EuroNews(on mute) slides countries & statisticsacross the screen. Gothic trees beyond the window sillwith the sad still life, iPhone and two stray books Nineteenth Century French Artists andWhen Things Fall Apart(Pema Chödrön)Seurat’sA Sunday on La Grande Jattemay be breakingthe 2-metres social distancing, his perfectly painted parentscatcalled their kids (obviously) to order like those on a breakfrom lockdown who waddle nervous as ducklingsin the local park where joggers wearing sunglassesendlessly circle the artificial lake, and eldersare like mourners staring into the waterthe dogs on leads (by order), while the volley ballmixed-doubles seems to be the only fun in the sun—Seurat’s cosmopolitans pulsate in sombre sensual hazebeside the glittering river, yachts, boats, Paris on the horizon—but it was the hats, umbrellas, the dreamy relaxation that made me grabthe red marker and graffiti ←2Metres→ between his two dragoons, the freakplaying the trombone, the guys rowing, the pipe smoker snooping on thefamily picnic— A Star Trek episodePlanet C-19would lack actionabout an invisible virus that kills at random (weak storyline)‘It’s life Jim but not as we know it’ (Got it in one, Mr Spock)I wilfully ‘destroy’ Seurat’s beautiful painting with plenty ←2M→(Chödrön) offers Buddhist heart advice on ‘intimacy with fear’and ‘this very moment is the perfect teacher’ as the kettle boilsmaking morbid music. The label on theYogi Organic Sleep Teabag says ‘Patience Pays’. ‘Healthy lockdowners who are fed and fed upare never heroes. Frontline workers are the heroes’—the localfree newspaper proclaims.EuroNewsattempts to evade the horrors, shows people talkingbalcony to balcony, shoppers zig-zagging to the safety of their carsand then lots of hospital footage, South American lion coloured graveyardswith JCB diggers on standby. Drink your tea and don’t touch your face.It may be years before children in school-playgroundschant: ‘Ring-A-Ring A-Covid. Cough Cough, Spit Spit.We All Fall Down’. And how long before the pharmaciessellCovidoxandCovidox (Extra Strength):‘don’t take whiledriving your electric car.’Or there may be no more schools,as once there were cave dwellers, animal skins for clothes,flint utensils and bone needles—Someone messaged around midnight with laughing emoticons:‘If you hear the sound of one hand washing in the sink,you’re not staying safe.’

兰翻译：诗验室在秋田里信步，凉风扎人因为我感觉自己听见了你的名字。一个像旧皮革、破扶手椅、破洞袜、葡萄柚的微笑、落在地上的花瓣的名字。我会将你的名字塞进兜里、嘴角里，藏在我的胸口、置于我的肺旁。如此温柔的折磨就这样随我在桌旁梦你时潜入。春天会来的，花会从我的肋骨盛开。我感觉我的心脏随着每个日出扭转，就像鞋盒里的记忆或者柯达胶卷那样捉住光。

Orchidby Jillian Mae LeeWalking in the autumn fields, the wind pricks my skinbecause I think I hear your name.A name like old leather, ragged armchairs, holey socks,grapefruit smiles, fallen petals on the floor.I’ll keep your name in pockets, the corners of my mouth,hidden in my chest, stuck against my lungs.This tender torment happenswhen I dream of you at the dinner table.Spring will come, the blossoms sproutfrom my ribs. I feel my heart twistwith every sunrise, catching light like memoriesin a shoebox or a Kodak roll.

南岭记作者：吕周杭以我为参照物，逸夫楼开裂。AB两区考试的纠结选项，成合围之势用光亮的碗准确扣住一尾鱼铃声是汛期，人潮携斑斓降落伞，势能冲开大坝。动能留给排队与咀嚼一二三四五六餐，六块橡胶糖所有的嘴都在开会，所有的嘴都在消化含混着综艺，春招，金工实习的小铁锤南岭生活着我指挥交通，清扫落叶，偶尔为街道续好断骨二公寓。木板床上每晚，啤酒冒泡。月亮搭在潮湿的肩我们习惯睡前谈起传动轴，一些计划的期限气压骤低。齿轮旋转，成环岛模样德制机械臂，把盐均匀撒入所有开着的窗睡梦中目击霓虹尾，寝室漂浮。我们再次将头齐齐埋入西瓜在南岭手术台，一些誓言逐渐酥软磐石路上的蛋黄灌入松胀的饼，生态循环饱腹即惆怅。娴熟跨越月光后他三分熟的脊背缓缓缓缓渗出深色的墨汁

On Nanlingtranslated by PLSYifu Building cracks around me. The confusingoptions in an exam between section A and B, closing in from all sidesusing shiny bowl to accurately catch a fishthe bell is the flood season, the crowd carries bright-colored parachutes, with forcethat can break a dam. When moving, it can leave queues and chewingone, two, three, four, five and six meals, six pieces of damboseevery mouth is participating in a meeting, every mouth is digestingmixing with entertainment, spring enrollments, small hammers from metalworking practicein Nanling I residecommanding traffic, sweeping leaves, sometimes setting broken bones for streetsApartment building II.Each night upon wooden bed, beer foaming. Moon resting on moist shoulderswe are used to talking about driveshafts, a few deadlinesthe atmospheric pressure suddenly drops. Gears rotate, into the shape of a circular islandGermany-made mechanical arms, sprinkle salt into every open windowwitnessing a neon tail in the dream, dormitory floating. Webury our heads into watermelon againon an operating table in Nanling, a few promises slowly softenedegg yolks sliding into bulging pancakes on Panshi Road, ecological cyclesfully fed means despondency. After adeptly traversing through moonlighthis medium rare backslowly-y-y oozing dark ink

原谅的重量翻译：诗验室我们必须狠狠挖入原谅的重量掩埋头颅之处 无论是沙里        石头里         还是那些我们无法在口中找到形状的东西里&尽我们所能从切削我们称之为家的身之神殿时遗漏的缝隙中借助能够从骨髓中吸取的一切力量用双臂收集这原谅这石颈的仙鹤 这油鳗我们必须专注于感觉的自相矛盾&用尽全力向后挪动直至地面在快乐中在讶异中 在泥喉的兴奋中喘息记住空气&尽我们所能发扬这种起始的真理这一中庸之道直至就连小写之神的凝视也无法赐予我们恩典直到就连小众势力的疯狂蜇咬都无法尝出我们如果“救赎”一词意味着要造一个让众舌居住的房子如果有任何机会可以逃脱缚住我们的荣耀之状 & 确认别无他法那么我们就一定要遵循因为在这些黑眼与羽喉统治者给我们带来的潜在威胁之下只有原谅才能扫清道路

The Weight of Forgivenessby Matt Schroederwe must dig deep downto wherever the weightof forgiveness has buriedits head in sand in stone in          something we cannot quite  find the shape of in our mouths&try as we must  to collect in our armswith whatever strengthcan be sucked from themarrow of our bonesthrough cracks thatleak from the chippingof these temples of bodieswe have named homethis forgivenessthis stone neckedcranethis oiled eelwe must fix upon thiscontradiction of a feeling& reel backwards with allour mightuntil the groundgasps in delight in surpriseindirt-throated ecstasy at remembering air&try as we mustcarry forward this truthof begin this middle pathforward until even the staplegaze of lowercase god cannotgrace usuntil even the stingingbite of minor powers cannot taste uswe must if the word redemptionis to make a home of the roomsthat house our many tonguesif there is going to be anychance to break away fromthe forms of glory that tieus down & say it must be sofor it must be forgiveness thatpaves the wayunder threat ofwhatever these dark-eyed &feather-throated rulers havein store for us

以目为囚作者：路边是的，多么没有信心的开头眼睛能看向哪里水草的睫毛从来不指引什么看吧看见孩子就一直认为拥有过童年看见被削平的塔尖便以为巨大的，一定垂立在某个角落看见色彩身体也会跟着斑斓介于黑白之间的心脏停跳于雨水冲刷的屋顶看吧看到婚礼现场便承认新人是一瞬间的衰老看见自整容镜反射而出的弧线确认那是瞳孔的时候也确认了自己继续看一直看企图将目之所及全部定义在铁门之内熟睡之后从别人的目光那里得到“这是梦”并试图再一次睁开双眼

Let the Eyes be Hostagestranslated by PLSYes, what a confidence-lacking startwhere can the eyes landthe lashes of waterweeds never hint at anythinglookseeing childrenand thinking you once had a childhoodseeing a truncated spireand thinkingthe enormous, must stand erect in a cornerseeing colorsand the body will become colorfulheart between black and whiteceasing to pulsate at the rain-washed rooflookseeing a weddingand admittingthe newlywed is the aging of an instantseeing the curved light raysreflected from a vanity mirrorand confirming it is a pupilis also self-reassurancekeep lookingand staringattempting to shut whatever the eyes can reachinside the iron gate with a definitionafter a sound sleepfrom other people’s eyesyou get that “it’s a dream”and attemptingto open your eyes once again