▋我要在死前先为诗篇造一座坟
——题阳子停觉画《我的自画像》
诗/道辉


迟缓，再迟缓——一只用幻想和泥砌墙的手闯进
你未被阳光造出纹路的手
俯下过冬的嘴唇吹响空心睡眠

迟缓
再迟缓些，请慢用爱人的发髻燃烧夜晚的腹部
眼瞳中刺入果浆
当擦过眉睫的大海面抒情作无人街
也让你慢些仿造出——这面能敲死情歌的山丘之鼓

迟缓在
不能再迟缓的——你随着一粒风尘在饱血的词洞里发亮
雏菊、驳船，和曾经年轻过的敌人
你不再向满头白发诵读
那个只向往黎明的家乡——一直在等候第二个黎明的到来。

泪花是落进黑暗中的光明
黎明——一座高高的诗篇之坟。


I'll build a grave for the Psalm before I die.
--Titled "My Self-Portrait" painted by Yang Zi Ting Jue
Poetry/Dao Hui

Retardation, and then delay - a hand that builds walls with fantasy and mud breaks into your unmade lines of sunlight
Bend the winter lips to blow hollow sleep

Retardation
Slower still, please slow to burn the belly of the night with your lover's bun
Pulp in the pupil of the eye
When the lyric of the great sea that grazes the eyebrows makes no man's street
And slow you down to copy - the drum of the hill that kills love songs

Tardy when it can't be - you glow with a grain of dust in a blood-saturated word hole
Daisies, barges, and once-young enemies
You no longer recite to gray hairs
That hometown that only yearns for the dawn - has been waiting for the second dawn

Tears are the light that falls into the darkness
Dawn - a tall tomb of Psalms

译者/梵君


▋稻草版诗集
诗/道辉


一整日贩卖不出一根稻草杆
就用稻草杆，捆自己的嘴
别说纸的话

风吹稻浪
会听得见，煮食石头人的鼾声

现实
从奶汁流向干河流的尿液

好的，让它们听
敞开不到一半的身体，能听见什么
心肝还在内面
游历美好与死亡的界线，仍在内面
逆光被沼泽咀嚼
原野像白褂大夫的记录
写着：
   想象凿穿的，内视膜，已修复多回

不现实
又从罂粟地的尿液流回奶汁

暗火山不爆破
蛐蛐一直叫着
好的，晨光之盗，要我变卖昂贵家当

珠帘之壁
测试
地震仪之海
最后一件，婴儿的脸皮
留下一件
写有“月光、玫瑰、摇篮”字样的诗集
闽南来的
这
死去多少年，还能
哑口无言的连体脸皮

耸立
若还不够
就躺在这耸立之上，尖薄的
拆枪人，也是写诗人，以指节


The Straw Edition of Poems
Poetry/Dao Hui


A whole day without a single straw to sell
I'll tie my own mouth with a straw
Don't talk about paper

The wind-blown rice waves.You'll hear the snoring of the Boiling Stones

In reality
Urine flows from the milk to the dry river

Okay, let's put them on
What can you hear with your body less than half open?
The heart and liver are still inside
Traveling the line between good and death, still on the inside
Backlight chewed up by the swamp
Prairie is like Dr. White Coat's record
It reads:
   Imagine a punctured, inner retina, repaired multiple times

In the unreal
And the urine from the poppy patch flows back into the milk

An underground volcano doesn't explode
The crickets kept chirping
All right, the Morning Thief. I have to sell my expensive stuff

wall of curtains
testing
Sea of Seismometers
The last thing, the baby's cheek
Leave a book of poems with the words "Moonlight, Rose, Cradle" written on it
It's from the southern part of the country
This
How many years after death can you still
Dumb Siamese cheek
If it's not enough to tower over you
Just lying on top of this towering, spiky
The gun demolisher, who also writes poetry to knuckleheads

译者/梵君

▋我要在死前先为诗篇造一座坟
——题阳子停觉画《我的自画像》
诗/道辉


迟缓，再迟缓——一只用幻想和泥砌墙的手闯进
你未被阳光造出纹路的手
俯下过冬的嘴唇吹响空心睡眠

迟缓
再迟缓些，请慢用爱人的发髻燃烧夜晚的腹部
眼瞳中刺入果浆
当擦过眉睫的大海面抒情作无人街
也让你慢些仿造出——这面能敲死情歌的山丘之鼓

迟缓在
不能再迟缓的——你随着一粒风尘在饱血的词洞里发亮
雏菊、驳船，和曾经年轻过的敌人
你不再向满头白发诵读
那个只向往黎明的家乡——一直在等候第二个黎明的到来。

泪花是落进黑暗中的光明
黎明——一座高高的诗篇之坟。


I'll build a grave for the Psalm before I die.
--Titled "My Self-Portrait" painted by Yang Zi Ting Jue
Poetry/Dao Hui

Retardation, and then delay - a hand that builds walls with fantasy and mud breaks into your unmade lines of sunlight
Bend the winter lips to blow hollow sleep

Retardation
Slower still, please slow to burn the belly of the night with your lover's bun
Pulp in the pupil of the eye
When the lyric of the great sea that grazes the eyebrows makes no man's street
And slow you down to copy - the drum of the hill that kills love songs

Tardy when it can't be - you glow with a grain of dust in a blood-saturated word hole
Daisies, barges, and once-young enemies
You no longer recite to gray hairs
That hometown that only yearns for the dawn - has been waiting for the second dawn

Tears are the light that falls into the darkness
Dawn - a tall tomb of Psalms

译者/梵君


▋稻草版诗集
诗/道辉


一整日贩卖不出一根稻草杆
就用稻草杆，捆自己的嘴
别说纸的话

风吹稻浪
会听得见，煮食石头人的鼾声

现实
从奶汁流向干河流的尿液

好的，让它们听
敞开不到一半的身体，能听见什么
心肝还在内面
游历美好与死亡的界线，仍在内面
逆光被沼泽咀嚼
原野像白褂大夫的记录
写着：
   想象凿穿的，内视膜，已修复多回

不现实
又从罂粟地的尿液流回奶汁

暗火山不爆破
蛐蛐一直叫着
好的，晨光之盗，要我变卖昂贵家当

珠帘之壁
测试
地震仪之海
最后一件，婴儿的脸皮
留下一件
写有“月光、玫瑰、摇篮”字样的诗集
闽南来的
这
死去多少年，还能
哑口无言的连体脸皮

耸立
若还不够
就躺在这耸立之上，尖薄的
拆枪人，也是写诗人，以指节


The Straw Edition of Poems
Poetry/Dao Hui


A whole day without a single straw to sell
I'll tie my own mouth with a straw
Don't talk about paper

The wind-blown rice waves.You'll hear the snoring of the Boiling Stones

In reality
Urine flows from the milk to the dry river

Okay, let's put them on
What can you hear with your body less than half open?
The heart and liver are still inside
Traveling the line between good and death, still on the inside
Backlight chewed up by the swamp
Prairie is like Dr. White Coat's record
It reads:
   Imagine a punctured, inner retina, repaired multiple times

In the unreal
And the urine from the poppy patch flows back into the milk

An underground volcano doesn't explode
The crickets kept chirping
All right, the Morning Thief. I have to sell my expensive stuff

wall of curtains
testing
Sea of Seismometers
The last thing, the baby's cheek
Leave a book of poems with the words "Moonlight, Rose, Cradle" written on it
It's from the southern part of the country
This
How many years after death can you still
Dumb Siamese cheek
If it's not enough to tower over you
Just lying on top of this towering, spiky
The gun demolisher, who also writes poetry to knuckleheads

译者/梵君