橘子，橘子
文/苍凉
我回报橘子的方式
是带她四处走
去她没去过的地方
她拳起冰凉的手
敲我腿
在密集的人群中
用摩斯密码滴嗒滴发报
我带着她到处颠
人世辽远
她有秘藏的甜
Orange, Orange
By Cangliang
I repay the orange
By taking her around
To where she hasn't been before
She knocks on my leg
With her clenched cold hand
She ticks out messages via Morse code
In the dense crowd
I hang about with her
The world vast
Her sweetness secret
逝水
文/黎落
失眠的人放牧羊群。风擦着耳朵
像呓语，像手中的鞭
月亮有时翻开沱沱河，鹅卵石很滑
散乱的光没办法驻足
有时，是恒河。芦苇
将白未白，收割的手势还在
橡树林和火车都睡了。邮筒
自顾自醒着——
这是夜晚唯一突兀的部分，想象的部分
不再为理想奔波的人是幸福的人
像缓慢飘落的灰色的雨
Elapsing Water
By Li Luo
The insomniac herds the sheep. The wind brushes my ears
Like whispers and whips in hand
The moon sometimes opens the Tuotuo River, the pebbles too slippery
For the scattered light to land
Sometimes, it's the Ganges River, with reeds
Nearly white, and harvest gestures still in the air
The oak forest and the train are asleep, the mailbox
Alone awake —
The only abrupt part of the night, the imaginative part
Those who no longer rush about for ideals are happy
Like gray rains falling slowly
荒郊街景
文/荣润生
平房晦暗
在一条旧街道两侧卷边
我的视线被局限在斑驳的槽钢内
只有一小格天空
在槽钢的端口外面喘息
不知道是谁的头部
已经伸进天空的那一小口喘息里
槽钢微微上翘
使他成为悬崖勒马之势
我极力屏息
生怕换一口气
那匹马就会腾空而去
A Street View in the Desolated Suburb
By Rong Runsheng
The both sides of the old street
Are lined with dark bungalows with their edges curled
My vision is confined to the mottled channel steel
Outside the port of which
Nothing but a little bit of sky gasps
I’ve no idea whose head it is
That has already reached into the gasp
Slightly upward warped
The channel steel appears like a halted horse at the cliff edge
I try to hold my breath
Fearing it would fly away
In a breath
雨水
文/陇上雪
我触摸到时间冰凉的体温
这液体里藏着刀锋
打一把伞
只是象征性地抵御
一座黄土塬，无法遏制
水土流失的速度
我紧紧抓住年华里残存的土壤
努力哺育更多的花朵与果实
The Rain
By Longshang Snow
I feel the cold time
The liquid where the blade is hidden
An umbrella
Is no more than a symbolic defense
A loess tableland can’t contain
The soil erosion
I clutch the remaining soil in my life
Striving to foster more flowers and fruits
陵园
文/空也静
烈士们
握着大刀、长茅、木棍
一个接一个
从历史里爬出来
扶着墓碑
向前来祭奠的人
打探
他们拼命打下的江山
是不是
当初想要的样子
The Cemetery
By Kong Yejing
The martyrs
Crawl out of history
One by one
With knives, spears and wooden sticks in their hands
Holding on to the tombstone
They ask those
Who come to pay their respects
Whether the land
They fought so desperately to conquer, is exactly
What they expected to be
|
|
大牛，别默默的看了，快登录帮我点评一下吧！:)
登录 立即注册