Posts Tagged ‘beasts’
7月 26, 2023
Wang Qingrang
RIND
Als ich klein war,
war bei uns
im Hof
ein altes braunes Rind.
Du löst ihm
den Strick
und der Wagen
steht vorm Tor,
es setzt sich von selbst in Bewegung,
kein Antreiben nötig.
Trottet hinüber,
zwischen die Stangen,
will eingespannt werden.
Übersetzt von MW im Juli 2023
《新诗典》小档案：王清让，男，1976年8月生。在《人民文学》《诗刊》《诗潮》《莽原》《山东文学》《绿风》《汉诗》等偶有发表，有诗歌收入《新世纪诗典》《当代传世诗歌三百首》《中国先锋诗歌年鉴》《中国口语诗年鉴》等多种选本。已出版诗集《那年》。现居河南新乡。
伊沙推荐语:我觉得本诗有两种读法，一种是＂事实的诗意＂，一种是象征体，哪一种更符合作者的创作意图？取决于你对作者的整体创作的了解，我觉得后一种更符合王清让。
天山雪：解开了绳子，仍然踱过去，等上套。这得多少次被上套，才习惯成自然，看见牛拉车，就自个去等上套。多么现实，多么荒诞，又多么让人见怪不怪。
会想起流水线上的工人，题海战术的学生，部队里的兵。
当然也会想起西西弗，将滚下山的巨石又推上山去，以此否定诸神的对他施以“将巨石推上山，再滚下去，让他再推山来，再无限重复这个动作，做这件事”的惩罚。就是那句话“干就完了”。
本诗似有作者对自家牛的同情在里头。
标签：age, animal, animals, beasts, burden, country, countryside, cow, 王清让, habit, NPC, ox, Wang Qingrang, work, 新世纪詩典
发表在 1970s, 1980s, 1990s, 2000s, 2010s, 2020s, 2023, 20th century, 21st century, Antique times, July 2023, Middle Ages, NPC, poetry, Translations, 新世纪诗典 | Leave a Comment »
6月 17, 2020
Jun Er
FLUSS AUF DER HAND
Manchmal trau ich mich nicht
meine Hand aufzumachen.
Ich fürcht ein wildes Tier
sitzt dort an einem Fluss.
Uebersetzt von MW im Juni 2020
掌上河流
君儿
有时我不感
打开我的手掌
我怕还有什么猛兽
臧在它的河上
Jun Er
PALM RIVER
Sometimes I don’t dare
to open my hand.
I am scared of a beast
sitting there on a stream.
Translated by MW, June 2020
标签：animals, beasts, fear, hand, hiding, Jun Er, NPC, palm, poetry, river, 君儿, 君兒, 新世纪詩典
发表在 2010s, 2020, 20th century, 21st century, June 2020, Middle Ages, NPC, poetry, Translations, Uncategorized, 新世纪诗典 | Leave a Comment »
7月 22, 2015
Di Guanglong
NOCTURNAL BEAST
where is the light?
in the dark, a ray of light
is a severed finger. light
pulls itself short,
disappears.
stepping on broken bits, through a tunnel of grass
light gatherers, each on its own
passes a tree, stops a while
and raises its head. stars have also gone out.
you will discover, you will attain
what sweeps past the heart, in that moment of light
running into each other, you see an eyeball
all covered with veins.
this is the print of the severed finger, emerging
darkness and darkness, mixed up together
needs to be sorted, examined and sifted
only then can the severed finger be found
only then can you put it back together
this is not striking a match
not opening a firefly gate
it’s a long winding night, digging inwards
carnivores and herbivores
all spend lots of time looking for light
a keen sense of hearing, sensing fresh wounds
transferred on a tiger, one tiger’s cough
dig down three feet, dig out amber-like solids
some kind of light breathes, it can even fly
nose twitching, where it gets darker
it will be brighter
one kind of light has a strange taste
as if it came from a bug’s armpits
tarsier monkeys holding their glasses
cobras are blind
but their scales reflect light
light, that roving fingertip
a rustling sound
sharp fingernails, not like looking for light
like digging for metal
light, you need to strike
spots where a stream has flown, rocks
your knees are all hurt
2015
Tr. MW, 2015
标签：accident, animals, beasts, bugs, cough, 第广龙, dark, Di Guanglong, dig, finger, fly, glasses, grass, hearing, light, metal, monkeys, poetry, reflect, scales, shards, smell, snakes, stars, taste, tiger, time, 新世纪诗典
发表在 July 2015, poetry, Translations, Uncategorized, 新世纪诗典 | Leave a Comment »
中国大好き 