文学博士秦风的汉英双语诗歌，看来咱广元诗歌人才还是多嘛

《为白昼提灯的人》 秦风

1.

没有光。就用声音替代

这唯一的哨音，号令天下所有的

寂静。那脸，那城市，那河山，那星空

像缺失一样，无边寂静里的空旷

吹哨人，这黑与夜的口哨，来不及全部

按响。就把自己吹灭。巨大而空寂的

回音壁。失身的哨身

已经来不及，抓住余音渐远的手

每个人都是哨子，他是率先的

哨音：尖锐，闪亮，而奋不顾身

一个哨子，喊出所有哨子的沉默

集体失哑的哨子，成为一列列追悼人

整个地球，辽阔空远的证词

而此时，我穿过语言的洞穴

赶向满天星辰的肺部

那些颤动，那些茫然的，微光

2.

万物总在先天的缺陷中时刻突围

哨子，这裂口之上永远睁开的眼

裂缝，先是一种警示，后是一种攻击

现在是毁灭。哨声被一堵堵墙击溃

大地上青铜的灰与千堆雪，无法获救

声音退回到口哨。万物无常之下都是

陈旧日月的翻动，众多的事物已经

跨越自我的界限。失身或者失声

像是生命唯一可去的，两处避难所

3.

似乎每一张嘴都窥视着另一张嘴

都对着猎物，对着比道路更远的山河

千山万水险于栅栏与口罩的多重防护，或是阻拦

口哨，要么空着，要么封着

铺天盖地的警觉：依然没有光

像心灵的探测仪，为沉睡而时时醒着

耳朵的尖锐在于，很难倾听自己声音

更多的朝着脑袋的无定转向

夜的哨声，像江河推开着两岸的群山

呼喊所到达的地方，都是生者的出口

幸存者：草尖与树枝上风雨的家园

4.

吹哨人是一个虚词。哨声挣断于心弦

从黑夜出发，并消失于黑夜

月亮刀锋上，薄凉的喘息

远于，一种冷漠与观望

十指望天，每个指尖触痛，不见回音

仿佛撕裂处，急促而破碎的呼救

吹哨人一去不返。消失于哨声的消失

当黑夜纷纷醒来的时候

他却独自永远地睡去

几乎整个地球，嘴含他的口哨

口哨里，每个人自己的呼吸和声音

下一个口哨。将被猝不及防的哨声

吹响。我愿是钟声，时时锤打沉睡的铁

木铎与警觉。让口哨返回初心

把自己与苦难，轻轻打开

5.

总有哨声。仿佛从天空疾驰而过

像六月崩塌的雪，冷不防地

砸在我玻璃的眼睛上

6.

突然，我提起。不再提起

沉默。时间不容尖锐和纯洁

漆黑的春天，把二月墨水的

痛哭，压在树影不定的墙上

万千花朵，混同于一种光和颜色

枝剪或嫁接，是另一种活着

但那绝不是，存于夜色的植物

生命的血，长成生活的铁

锈是岁月和命运的包浆，不被抚摸

更多活着的死，嵌入一种生

7.

眼珠只能顾及眼珠投射的地方

一滴眼泪写下，一个医治好了亿万眼晴的

处方：欲去眼疾，必先除心病

把眼植于心，心就是眼睛里的

眼睛。可以隐藏，却从不说谎

而嘴则不能

心，是万物自我煎熬的一颗药丸

含着野草的苦味，云朵的芳香

8.

口与口罩，分别训诫和隔离

一种毒，攻击语言的正面

而另一种，围城偷袭，致命的软肋

忠于纯是信仰的一半，而我执着于干净

让喧嚣回到语言最初的呼吸

让肺叶伸展，绿色的氧气

把自己还原于，一种晶体固守

岩矿挣脱出来，还灵魂以骨架

还化石最干净的床与爱

9.

一些面具擦得光亮，遮蔽的脸在里面

褪化和腐烂。一切仿佛静止。唯有眼珠

在眼眶之后移动

朝向阳光照射不到的方向

一棵被锯断的苦梨，纹线中断的道路

消逝举着的波光

10.

今夜，必将有更多的光

因为墨水和雪的缘故

雪在墨水中，隐于一声哨音的

尖叫与奔跑

像是有落叶，在屋外的空地

把自己点燃。用烈焰的骨头

给黑夜掌灯，而抱回来的薪火里

有冰雪和眼睛滴落。隔岸的灯火

永不到达

今夜，漆黑的天空

有未来的凝视？我只知道

那是亿万颗头颅，高举起的痛哭

不是泪水的送别，而是象形文字

炉火的相迎

项上人头，只换日月的白发千丈

不换，隔江的后庭犹唱

11.

一滴五湖四海的，泪

此刻，捧着空寂的武汉和中国

月光俯下身来，摇动着

汉水和长江逆流的鳞片

时间，苦难和永恒的两半

像迟开的花蕾，爬上一扇扇窗的

灯火与伤口

12.

一个人的死，封堵更多死的裂口

一种人的死，让众生从数字复原为名字

还原于五千年流离的姓氏

你的名字，是众生的黎明

为万千苍生，燧石，或盗火

13.

大地板结，与冰的冻二月跪下来

献上全部额头的温度和灯盏

14.

发生的一切，仍在发生

并将永远发生

终将面对，不能面对的

定会再次面对

亡羊补牢。那些不断增加的

围栏。替罪羊，愿唯一

是我。我不看。我不想。

但我绝不遗忘。

15.

我忍痛说起的地方。对，一说就疼的地方

将会成为一块墓地，或是墓地的一块

替一些人站着，永不放下怀抱里

冬的雷阵，夏的冰雪

乌云的喘息，仍密布在天空的肺部

一些树影，在摇晃的光线之下

每一次，都企图抓稳自己

九头鸟，是汉江喷火的怒发

白云千载，黄鹤楼的翅膀

在晴川之外，在千帆之上

趟过黑夜的人，必带黑色疤痕

是阳光下人群中，唯一的亮色

逆行，是一种抗击和反向证明

光，是视线，最薄弱的部分

我不在其中

太阳黑子，月晕

这虚无的白昼，更需要光

为黎明送信的人走了

为黑夜挑灯的人走了

我，身背夜色，为白昼提灯

The Man Who Carried the Lantern for the Day

By QIN Feng

Tr. ZHANG Qiong

There is no light. Just take sound instead

The only whistle to command silence of the world

The face, the city, the river and the sky

Are absent in boundless silence

Before the whistler can blow all the whistle

In dark night, he just blew himself out. The huge butempty

Echo wall. It is too late for

The missing whistler to catch the lingering sound

Everyone is a whistler. He is the first

Whistle: sharp, shiny, and desperate

One whistle breaks the silence of all whistlers

All the dumb whistlers become rows of mourners

The whole earth, the testimony of the vast sky

At that point, I pass through the cave of language

To the lungs of the stars

Those trembling, those vague, faint light

Things always break through the congenital defects

The whistle, the ever-open eye above the gap

The crack, first as a warning, then an attack

Now destruction. The whistle is crushed by walls

The ashes of bronze and a thousand heaps of snow onthe earth cannot be saved

The sound retreats to a whistle. Everything is animpermanent

In the changeable days. Many things has been

Crossing the boundaries. Losing its body or its voice

Are optional ways for life, two refuges.

It seems as if every mouth peeps into another

To the prey, to the mountains beyond the road

Mountains and rivers risk in multiple protection, orblock of the fence and mask

Whistles, either in idle or sealed

Widespread alarm: still lightless

Like the sounder of the soul, always awake to sleep

The sharpness of the ear is that it's hard to hearoneself

More erratic turns toward the head

The whistle in night is like a river pushing away themountains on its banks

Wherever the shouts reach, they are the exits of theliving

Survivors: Home of wind and rain on the tips of grassand branches

Whistler is a function word. Whistles break fromheartstrings

Starting out in the night and disappearing into thenight

On the blade of the moon, the thin cool gasp

Is far better than the indifferent and wait-and-see

Hands folded with ten fingertips piercing the sky, butno answer

Somewhere with a tear, a rapid and broken cry for help

The whistler never return, in the disappearance of thewhistle

When the night is waking

He sleeps on his own forever

Almost the whole earth, with his whistle in the mouth

In the whistle, there is each person's own breath andsound

Next whistle. One will be caught off guard by nextwhistle

I wish I were a bell hammering the sleeping iron

Muduo and vigilance. Let the whistle return to itsoriginal purpose

Put itself and suffering gently open

There's always a whistle. It seems to gallop throughthe sky

Like snow collapsing in June, suddenly

Smashes right on my eyeballs

Suddenly, I mention. No longer mention

Silence. Time does not allow sharpness and purity

Dark spring puts February ink

Crying on the wall of the shadow of the trees

Myriads of flowers are mingled with one light andcolor

Pruning or grafting, another kind of living

But that's not a plant living in the night

The blood of life, the iron of life

Rust is the gloss of time and fate, not to be touched

More living death, embedded in a kind of life

Eyes can only see where the eyeballs cast

A drop of tears writes a cure for millions of eyesclear

Prescription: To cure eye disease, cure heart diseasefirst

Plant eyes in the heart and the heart are eyeballs

Of the eyes. The heart can hide, but never lie

The mouth can't

The heart is the pill that makes all things sufferfrom themselves

Bitter with weeds, sweet with clouds

Mouth and mask respectively admonish and isolate

A poison that attacks the front of language

But the other, a siege, a deadly vulnerability

Faithfulness to purity is half of faith, but I clingto cleanliness

Let the noise return to the original breath oflanguage

Let the lungs stretch with green oxygen

To restore itself to a crystalline fixation

The minerals struggle to free and bone the soul

Give the fossil cleanest bed with love

Some masks are so polished that the hidden face aremelted and rotted inside

Everything seems still. Only the eyeballs

Moves behind the eye sockets

Towards the place with no sunlight

A bitter pear sawed, a road with broken streaks

The lifted light is disappearing

Tonight, there must be more light

Because of the ink and the snow

The snow in ink hides in a whistle’s

Screaming and running

There seems some fallen leaves in the open

Set themselves on fire. They light for night

With the bones of the flame, and there snow and iceand eyes

In the firewood. Lights across the bank

Never reach

Tonight, the dark sky

Has a future gaze? I know that

It's a million heads crying bitterly

It’s not a tearful send-off, but a hieroglyphic

Welcome like fire

The head on shoulder only change for the white hair ofthe sun and moon

But not for the singing in the backyard across river

A tear from all over the world

At the moment, holds the empty Wuhan and China

The moon bends down and shakes

Scales against the currents of the Hanshui River andthe Yangtze River

The two halves of time, suffering and eternity

Like a late bud, climb up to the light and the wound

From window to window

The death of one person seals more dead cracks

A kind of death restores living beings from numbers tonames

To restore a 5,000-year-old family name

Your name is the dawn of thousands of people

Flint or stealing fire for them

The stiffened earth kneels down with ice in the frozenFebruary

Giving the heat and the lamp of all the forehead

Everything that happened is still happening

And will happen for ever

We'll face what we can't face

We will face it again

Better late than never. The fences that are increasing

Constantly. I wish the only scapegoat,

was me. I don't watch. I don't want to.

But I will not forget.

The place I painstakingly mentioned. Yeah, it hurtswhen I talk about it

It's going to be a graveyard, or part of a graveyard

Standing there for someone and never let go

Thunder in winter, snow and ice in summer

The panting of clouds is still gathering in the lungsof the sky

Some tree shadows try to hold on

In the swaying light every time

The nine - headed birds are the fury of the HanshuiRiver

The lingering clouds for thousand years, the wings ofthe Yellow Crane Tower

Are beyond the riverside, above thousands of sails

The man who goes through the night will have a blackscar

It's the only bright color in the sun

Retrograde is kind of resistance and reverse proof

Light is the weakest part of the line of sight

I'm not one of them.

Sunspots, a lunar halo

The empty day needs more light

The dawn messenger has gone

The man who burned the midnight oil has gone

I, against the night, carry the lamp for the day

▲秦风，本名蒲建雄，男，文学博士。中国诗歌学会会员，四川省作家协会会员。曾获首届全球汉语诗歌大赛主奖、首届天府文学作品奖、长城文学奖、苏东坡文学奖、全国十大最佳抗疫诗歌奖、第六届上海市民诗歌节诗歌奖、意大利梅莱托国际诗歌奖。文学作品被译成英语、日语、西班牙语等多国语言，并发表收录国内外多种文学诗刊与专辑。应邀参加27届（印度）世界诗人大会、俄罗斯莱蒙托夫国际诗歌节。著有诗集《独步苍茫》。

QIN Feng, real name PU Jianxiong, male,Doctor of Literature. Member of Chinese Poetry Society, member of SichuanWriters Association. He has won the first Global Chinese Poetry Prize, thefirst Tianfu Literature Prize, the Great Wall Literature Prize, the SU DongpoLiterature Prize, and the ten Best anti-epidemic poetry prizes in China, thefirst prize of original poetry in the sixth Shanghai citizen poetry Festival,the published poetry (recitation) works on the sixth Chinese poetry festivalCCTV net column. His literary works have published on literature journals andalbums home and abroad. He is the author the poetry anthology Stepping onthe Horizon.

张琼，肇庆学院外国语学院副教授，中国翻译协会专家会员，广东肇庆市翻译协会会长， 华诗会会员，《诗殿堂》翻译部执行主编。

ZHANG Qiong，an associate professor ofSchool of Foreign Languages of Zhaoqing University, a senior member ofTranslators Association of China, President of Translators Association ofZhaoqing, an editor in Translation Department of Poetry Hall.