施施然，本名袁诗萍，诗人，画家，河北文学院签约作家，曾获河北省政府“文艺振兴奖”、《现代青年》“最受读者喜欢十大青年诗人”、三月三诗会奖、中国作协重点作品扶持等，部分诗作被译为英语、瑞典语、韩语等语言交流，出版诗画集《走在民国的街道上》（台湾）、诗集《青衣记》、《杮子树》等。国画作品多次入选国际国内画展并被收藏，现致力于中国传统文化“诗画合一”的承继与探索。
SHI Shi-Ran, originally named YUAN Shi-Ping, poetess, painter, signed writer of Hebei College of Liberal Arts, once won the "Literary Revitalization Award" in Hebei province, “March-Third Poet Award” and the key support from “China Writers Association”. She was celebrated as one of "the most ten favorable young poet” by readers of Modern Poet Monthly. She has published her collected poems such as Tsing Yi Notes, and Persimmon Tree as well as her collected album of poetry and painting: Walking on Republic Street of China (Taiwan). Her poems have been translated into English, Swedish and Korean, etc. She is also the Deputy Chief Editor of the magazine The Sea Breezes. She has devoted herself to the inheritance and exploration of "syncretism of poetry and painting" of traditional Chinese culture. Her several painting works have been selected and stored up in the domestic and international exhibitions.
译者海岸
海岸（1965- ），诗人、翻译家，浙江台州人。原名李定军，八十年代就读于杭州大学（现并入浙江大学）外文系，现为复旦大学外文学院副教授兼香港《当代诗坛》（汉英双语）副主编。著有《海岸诗选》(2001）、《海岸短诗选》（2003）、《挽歌》（长诗，2012）；译有《狄兰?托马斯诗选》(2014）、《贝克特诗集》（2016）；编有《中西诗歌翻译百年论集》（2007）、《中国当代诗歌前浪》（汉英对照，欧洲繁体版/青海简体版, 2009）等。2004年曾参加UNESCO全球和平文化合作研究项目，论文及和平组诗入选“UNESCO--EOLSS维生系统百科全书”。曾应邀出席“第15届阿根廷-罗塞里奥国际诗歌节”（2007）、“第2届中国青海湖国际诗歌节”（2009）、“第48届马其顿-斯特鲁加国际诗歌节”（2009）、罗马尼亚米哈伊??艾米内斯库国际诗歌节“（2014）。
HAI AN (1965-), originally named LI Ding-Jun, Chinese poet and translator, the Council Member of the Shanghai Translator Association (STA), the prize-winner of STA-2011 Translator Prize and the invited author of UNESCO-EOLSS Encyclopedia in 2004. He graduated from the Hangzhou University in the 1980s, currently serving as the Associate Professor at College of Foreign Languages and Literature, Fudan University and the Adjunct Deputy Editor-in-Chief of Contemporary Poetry Quarterly based in Hong Kong. He has published more than ten books of poetry as the author, translator and editor, including Selected Poems by Hai An（2001）, Selected Short Poems by Hai An (2003, Hong Kong), Elegy—Hai An’s First Therapeutic Long Poem (2012, Taiwan), Selected Poems of Dylan Thomas (2014), Collected Poems of Samuel Beckett (2016), A Centennial Collected Papers on Sino-Occidental Poetry Translation (2007), The Frontier Tide: Contemporary Chinese Poetry (Europe / Qinghai, 2009), etc. He was once invited to attend several international poetry festivals, such as the 15th International Poetry Festival in Rosario, Argentina (2007), the 2nd International Poetry Festival at Qinghai Lake, China (2009), the 48th International Poetry Evenings in Struga, Macedonia (2009) and the International Poetry Festival of Mihai Eminescu in Craiova, Romania (2014).(Email: djli@fudan.edu.cn)
《浅草寺》
施施然
冬天我来到浅草寺
白檐红廊，汉字巾幡
门外的银杏树上挂着唐朝的金子
我站在唐朝的建筑前
仿佛我的祖先立在他家门前
他没有死，在我的眼睛里活过来
我伸出现代的手臂
想抚摸这木头的墙壁
我看见祖先的虔诚和律令
看见祖先的乱发和歌哭
可是冬天的寒露渗出我的掌心
残缺的汉字从巾幡跳下来
我看见牌位后的佛佗一团和善
但他身着和服面目模糊
冬天我走过浅草寺
冬天我来到浅草寺过门而不入
Shallow-Grass Temple
SHI Shiran
I came to the Shallow-Grass Temple in winter
White eaves flying across a red corridor, prayer flags with Chinese characters
The golden Tang Dynasty hung on a ginkgo tree outside
I stood in front of the building of Tang Dynasty
As if my ancestors standing in front of their house
Undead, he revived in my eyes
I stretched out my modern arms
To touch the wooded wall
I saw the piety and discipline of our ancestors
I saw their wild hair, crying with songs
But my palm exuded its cold dew in winter
Broken Chinese characters jumping off prayer banners
I saw the affable Buddha behind the memorial tablet
But so shadowy in kimono
I walk through the Shallow-Grass Temple in winter
I came to the Shallow-Grass Temple, passing through the gate.
(Tr. by Hai An)
春夜
春夜是静的，因为你听不到杏花初发的声音
春夜是暖的，我的亲人面色潮红而我汗水淋漓
换上干净的薄衫吧
去护城河边走走吧。你看
河水像碎玻璃翻动着春光
在春夜，如果你辨不清花香和光亮袭来的方向
背后就会长出翅膀
春夜也有翅膀，它飞上你的阳台
钻进了你的梦中
春夜的梦，没有大门
死去的母亲像笑声，在里面进进出出
Spring Night
At quiet spring night, you can't hear the incipient sound of apricot blossoms
At warm spring night, I sweat dripping wet with my flushed love
Change a clean lightweight sweater
To take a walk at the moat. As you see
The river flipping the spring as the broken glass
At spring night, if you fail to know the direction of fragrance and light
Wings sprout out of your shoulders
Spring night also has its wings, flying at your balcony
And going into your dream
A dream at spring night shows no gateway
Departed mother goes like the laughter, in and out
(Tr. by Hai An)
一个人的寺院
黄昏与大海如此接近。云幕低垂
闪电将天地缝合
天乐在海浪白色的键盘上
弹奏。琉璃瓦的
金光点燃了整座寺院的寂静
夕阳照亮了佛像。烛泪在芭蕉的气味中
缓缓滴落
穿过空气升起了幽远的梵音
殿堂空旷。尘世随海水退去
我在其中。仿佛置身西天的幻境
在海边的寺院，我心灵的壁垒轰然倒塌
众神无声地立满我身后
One Person's Monastery
Dusk, so close to the sea, cloud curtain drooping further
Lightning sews up the heaven and earth
Waves of white keyboard play the music
Of the paradise. The golden light
Of glazed tile ignites up the silence of the entire temple
The figure of Buddha reflects sunset. In the smell of banana
A teardrop of candle dribbles down slowly
Rising the chanting sound farther from the air
The temple is empty, the mortal world ebbing with tide
Including mine, as if placed in the Buddhist paradise
In the temple of the sea, my heart barrier collapsed
The gods silently stand behind me
(Tr. by Hai An)
印在书上的码头
就在今夜，从你的狼毫下滴出的月色
像油纸伞，静静张开
张成一首诗的形状。光辉
穿越诗句的隧道。皎洁
一如从前。那个别离的江岸
汽笛曾用哀怨的咏叹把江水与远天粘贴，把
你飘扬的长衫扯成飞舞的旗帜，带走
我的脉搏，在梦的花海里与我拜堂成亲
天各一方。而今，月色重现，樱花
落满江面，用绝美
暗示狂乱。重逢的心跳在江边启航
遥远的码头早已是印在我心上的无字书
打开是相逢，合上是别离
The Pier, Printed in the Book
Just tonight, the moonlight dripping from your Chinese brush
quietly opens as an oiled-paper umbrella
as the shape of a poem, its brilliance
crossing the tunnel of verses, bright
as ever. On the riverbank for the separation
whistling chant of sadness once pasted the river with the distant sky
your fluttering gown tore into a flying flag, away with my pulse,
married with me in a dream of flower sea
ever scattered from each other. Tonight with the same moonlight, the river
filled with cherry blossoms, its beauty
drops a hint of frenzy. Heart-throb of reunion sets sail on the riverbank
Remote pier printed already as a wordless book in my heart
Open it as we meet, while closed as we say goodbye
(Tr. by Hai An)
杨保罗的讲述
已经过了台北，公路两旁
的槟榔树下，日光
在丛林和水草中游动。穿过
低矮错落的防震楼，大巴车平稳地
向台南驶去。“给老爷太太们
请安”。杨导游还在继续他，准确说
是他的母亲的回忆：1948年
在“大撤退”潮中作为
一位国民党连级军官的姨太太
她和丈夫一起，在福建一个码头
登上了开往台湾的船——
在我们常见的电影中，她至少是
情感的胜利者。不是吗？
她取代了大太太。
而她未来的儿子，此时正大声地
告诉我们接下来的事情。
是的，她和他待在一起
但现在，限乘750人的船
铁板一样竖立着两千多个
在密不透风的对峙中
不分男女弱孺，肉紧贴着肉
人们站着呕吐。
站着哭骂。站着
咽气。十几个风雨颠沛的昼夜
她一路上耳听死去的人被
扔进海中。那惊心的
“扑通”声。是动物的
求生本能，使这个刚踏进婚姻的旧式女人
挣扎着，从脚下一片排泄物的汪洋
不，是从一场战争中
活下来。像沧海中的一粒砂。
PAUL YANG’S NARRATION
Passing by Taipei, under the betel tree
along the highway, the sunlight
swimming down water grasses in the jungle,
through the shockproof houses, scattered low,
the coach goes smoothly toward Tainan. “Morning,
Ladies and Gentlemen”. Yang, the tour guide, more precisely,
keeps on his mother's memory, in 1948
in the tide of "great retreat",
as the mistress of a KMT junior officer,
She, together with her husband, on a quarside in Fujian
boarded on the ship bound for Taiwan --
In our familiar movie, at least she is
the winner of emotion, isn't she?
She replaced the first wife.
Her future son is now loudly
telling us the following things.
Yes, she stayed with him.
But then, the ship though limited for 750 passengers,
more than two thousand stood in iron cabin,
straight in the impenetrable confrontation,
male or female, weak or young, flesh to flesh.
They stood to vomit,
to scold and to die.
For a dozen of windy, rainy days and nights
She listened to the dead, along the way,
thrown into the sea. What a horrifying
"splash”. It was the animal surviving instincts
made this old woman, just stepping into marriage
struggle to survive from the boundless fecal waste under her feet,
No, to survive from a battle,
as a grain of sand in the sea.
(Tr. by Hai An)
春日
风是突然停下的。香气隐隐从窗外飘进来
纤细如敏感的神经。“一定是蔷薇
从静止的叶片下发出的”。她披上揉皱了的晨衣
下床，为自己泡柠檬茶。这些年
他持续保持着对她身体的迷恋，说不清是
甜蜜，还是额外的负担。就像她常常拿不准
新写出的，究竟是一首好诗，
还是烂诗。她推开窗，向楼下空地撒下一把米
给等候在法桐上叽叽喳喳的小鸟。这种伟岸的树曾
林立在数不清的街道两旁，被她认为是这座城唯一的优点
但现在，越来越少，因此她怀疑
政府与树贩子有着某种勾结但立即被家人制止：
“这不可能”。关上窗，有电话打进来，是诗人。
她告诉他：“很高兴没在海子的诗歌朗诵会上
看见你的身影，因此
你仍然是大师”。但大师在听说“又出事了”
的时候声音明显高了2度：“在哪？在哪？”
这使她在心中把他的位置又微微作了调整。
挂掉电话，她重新回到床上。她的每一天
都像在虚度，而她试图从中找到无穷的诗意。
现在，她脱下晨衣，思忖着这一首该如何开始。
SPRING
The wind stopped suddenly. Aroma came hidden through the window,
faint like the sensitive nerve. "It must be the rose
smelling beneath from the motionless blades. "She put on the crumpled dressing gown,
out of bed, a cup of lemon tea for herself. Over the years
he had kept fascinated in her body, unable to say for sure,
sweet or extra burden, as she often in doubt
what she had written was a good poem or a bad one.
She opened the window, sprinkling a handful of rice down to the stairs
for the chirping birds waiting on the chinar. The gigantic trees, clustering
along countless streets, was regarded as the unique advantages of her city,
but now, less and less, she suspected the government
had some collusion with the tree dealer, immediately stopped by her family:
"It's impossible". Closing the window, she received a call by a poet.
She told him: "Pleased not to find you
in Haizi’s poetry reading, so you're still the master",
but the master, after hearing "another accident",
obviously raised his voice for 2 degree: "Where? Where?"
This made her fine-tune his position in her heart.
Hanging up the phone, she went back to bed. Seemingly
each day slipped idly by, and she tried to find endless poetic.
Now, she took off her dressing gown, wondering how to start the present poem.
(Tr. by Hai An)
在苗寨写生遇见马厩里的马
这是匹刚成年的马。隆起的肌肉在
漂亮的棕色毛皮下若隐若现——在这里
群山锁住路，马厩锁住野性和美。
它的眼睛大而温善。眼睫长而密。
当你和它幽深的瞳孔对视，一缕忧郁
（被禁锢的力量）沉进你的心底。
它并不曾记得怎样离开母亲。
它也不感到孤独（马厩里还住着
一头沉默寡言的牛，和热情的牛蝇）
它不曾仰望过天空掠过的飞鸟，
流云从树梢后奔驰过山岗。
不曾留恋过远处的峰峦，
和峰峦后通向天边的路。
（野雏菊和苜蓿草在路旁跳出雌性的“踩堂”舞）
它不曾记得奔跑。
（风在耳边呼啸）
它不曾了解自由。
（缰绳是与生俱来人类恩赐的礼物）
——哦谁能帮帮我给它以明示？
在神灵与宇宙面前，生命生而平等。
（如果动物不能，至少人类可以）
它信赖这焦红的土地，谙熟吆喝
犁耕，驮运，忠诚和顺从，在主人的鞭子和注视下
交配。在马蹄状的粪便中
大声喘息——
它把所有交付出去，
它还不曾梦见宰杀。
（或许，正是它老去的母亲的命运）
SKETCHING IN THE MIAO VILLAGE TO MEET A HORSE IN THE STABLE
It is just an adult horse. Its uplift muscles
Loom under the beautiful brown fur – the road here
Rocked by the mountains, the wild beauty by the stable.
Its eyes big and mild, its eyelids long and dense,
When you meet its deep eye pupil, a wisp of melancholy
(Imprisoned power) sinks into the bottom of your heart.
It does not remember how to leave its mother.
It doesn't feel lonely, (also in the stable live
A taciturn cow and a gadfly of enthusiasm.)
It does not look up to the birds of the sky.
Clouds run from behind the trees over the hills.
Never miss the distant mountains,
Miss the road overlapping peaks to the horizon.
(The wild Daisy and clover take female "trample dance” on the road.)
It does not remember how to run.
(The wind is wailing in its ears)
It does not understand freedom.
(Reins are the born gift given by the human.)
-- Oh who can help me to declare to it?
Before the God and universe, life lives equal.
(If the animal cannot, at least, the human can)
It trusts in the scorched land, familiar with the urging cry,
Plough, labor, loyal and obedient, mating under the master's whip
And watch. Gasping for breath loudly
In a horseshoe-shaped dung--
It hands over what it owes,
It has never dreamed of killing.
(Perhaps, it is the fate of its old mother.)
(tr. by Hai An)
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