《2021冬季刊》双语诗歌朗诵

PLS诗验室
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一首诗，两个世界，都只在倾听。

  1. 27.01.2022

    11.九寨沟游记·镜海

    九寨沟游记·镜海 作者：齐格果 你从未像她们一样， 妩媚多姿， 招徕万国游人。 你靛青色的眼眸， 拥抱的是他乡之客。 命名是件礼物， 你从中诞生， 来自深处。 镜子， 哪怕被微风吹皱， 却依旧敞开怀抱。 你太清澈， 容纳不下阴影， 可飞鸟却从中飞过。 或许某日， 山峦崩摧， 星辰坠落， 尘埃弭平沟壑。 你悠然隐去， 却不曾消亡， 仍在世界的另一角。 你的宠儿， 对于那些山林， 生亦何忧，死亦何扰， 它们欢笑着睁开双眼， 又甜甜地转而入眠。 可人却不能， 醒时或睡着， 都有太多惊厥。 我愿长久沉醉， 可你挥挥手， 送我归返。 凡人无法在此间居住， 他们的寓所， 是迷惘和烦恼。 即便筑造木屋， 离你都过于迢遥。 我何时能故地重游？ 你不再言语。 可我知道， 你的微笑里， 答案早已写好。

    2 Min.

  2. 27.01.2022

    11.On Jiuzhaigou - Mirror Lake

    On Jiuzhaigou - Mirror Lake translated by PLS you are never like them, fascinating and alluring, courting people from all around. those indigo eyes of yours, attracting all kinds of strangers. it’s a gift to name one, from which you are born, the deep. mirror, even though wrinkled by the wind, still having its chest wide open. you are too clear to bear any shadow, but birds skim across it. maybe someday mountains crumble, the sky falls, dust fills the ravine. you slowly fade, but never disappear, still somewhere in the world. your darling, to those mountains and forests, leaving no trace of trouble, their eyes open with smiles, then closed in sweetness. but human beings cannot, awake or asleep, they are burdened with too many convulsions. I wish to indulge in this forever, but you wave your hand, sending me back. no human being is allowed to live here, the place they dwell is confusion and sorrow. even to build a log cabin is too far away from you. when can I return to visit? you stay silent. but I already know, there is an answer in your smile.

    2 Min.

  3. 27.01.2022

    10.蓝色厨房

    蓝色厨房 翻译：诗验室 蓝色瓷砖铺成的墙面 一旁是黑色烤盘 餐具之铜明亮如日 在蓝绿色星纹方块间闪耀 这里的烤箱比你的 皮肤还黑你不知道 除20世纪的家具以外 所有圆状或方形的人 都像一个开放博物馆般陈列着 也确实被来自西方与东方 激情高昂的男女访客们 的休闲装所装饰 敞开的窗户是印象派之特色 阳光闪耀，色彩作响 在诺曼底的一个夏日假期 在疫情似乎已经过去以后 花园重返如莫奈笔下 绘出一个整体的 全部的那抹 色彩一样嘈杂 立体派在颜色中爆发 与画家们及其 爱人的日常生活 一样真实

    2 Min.

  4. 27.01.2022

    10.Blue Kitchen

    Blue Kitchen by Xanadu Blue tiled wall and black oven plate aside Copper of utensils as bright as sun shines among starry squares of blue-green where the oven is blacker than your skin when you don't know Anyone round or square except 20th century furniture Rearranged like an open museum indeed decorated by casual wear of excited women and men visitors from East and West Open window as Impressionist feature le soleil brille et les couleurs sonnent * on summer holiday in Normandie after pandemic seemed to have gone Garden returns as chaotic as Monet's streak of paint that draws an unexpected whole of ensemble Cubism explodes in colors as real as everyday life of painters and their lovers.

    1 Min.

  5. 27.01.2022

    9.空想

    空想 作者：薄桜 时间像盐 融化在肌体， 剩下我们凝望的眼睛： 月升日落，记事本上昂扬的惊叹号早已 弯曲如镰刀，叩问来处与归返。 沙漠还是待垦的荒地，曾坚信 必须追究一个未来的清晰答案 但生命不能精确如天平，区分出 黄金或者铜锈，推开夜色的旅人 蒙眼洞悉辽阔，尖草吻别破旧的 义足，等待手杖化作桃林，躯干 变成比光阴更深的海，旱地生泽国。

    1 Min.

  6. 27.01.2022

    9.Daydreaming

    daydreaming translated by PLS time melting inside the body like salt, what’s left is our gazing eyes: moon rising in the sun’s descent, the jaunty exclamation marks on the notebook already bent like scythes, inquiring about the whereabouts. the desert or a wasteland waiting to be cultivated, believing once there must be a clear answer for the future but life can’t be as accurate as a scale, differentiating gold or patina, the voyager who enters the night grasping the vastness with eyes masked, sword grass kissing goodbye to the dilapidated prosthetic legs, expecting the walking stick to turn into a peach blossom, and the torso into an ocean deeper than time, water all over an arid land.

    1 Min.

  7. 27.01.2022

    8.失而复得的诗，一

    失而复得的诗，一 翻译：诗验室 相信我 你不希望看到 一个国家的追梦者 集体前行、 与火共舞、 重返战场、 迷恋 紧急救济、自娱自乐、 为那些被 责任的重量压扁 却又卷土重来的 困惑之水 缓解痛苦 的轰动场面， 蓝领们必须面对的残酷。 被怂恿着欢迎英雄归来。 捧红童星。 一旦“抛头露面” 警示信号就不断闪烁。在传说漫天飞 的黄金时代，一对拼命奋斗的夫妻 惧怕清醒的正念。 明天，一个酷热的夏天 将使一个空巢变热。 它能持续多久？ 它能卑鄙到何种程度？ 中产阶级的都市人 用饥荒与政治混乱裹住我。 我的双手在公共澡堂里发痒。 虽然在嘈杂中四分五裂， 这些人依然整日 以各种麻木束身。 他们喜欢延缓孤单与衰老， 和用一朵花来命名我。 我猜这是因为他们无条件爱我。

    2 Min.

  8. 27.01.2022

    8.Found Poem, I

    found poem, I  by Ana Padilla Fornieles trust me,  you do not want to see the  blockbuster visions of a nation of dreamers marching on, playing with fire, rejoining the battle, obsessed with bread lines, a domestic bonanza, bringing relief to a resurgence of troubled waters deflated by the weight of responsibility, the grim picture of a blue-collar necessity. urged to share a hero’s welcome. hyping child stars. warning signals flash for something ventured. in a golden age of old tales, a struggling couple fears a sobering mindfulness. tomorrow a blistering summer will heat up an empty nest. how long can it last? how low will it go? middle-class urbanites clothe me with famine and political turmoil. my hands itch in public bathhouses. broken in the chaos, these men still spend all day draped in varying states of torpor. they like to stave off loneliness and old age, and named me after a flower. I assume it’s because they love me unconditionally.

    2 Min.
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一首诗，两个世界，都只在倾听。

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