酷我-北美枫

[coviews]

We will post some works of Canadian poets who will attend the event.

We welcome everyone to try to translate them or discuss them.

Thanks our friends in China and USA to join us for the translations.

Here is the link. http://www.poemlife.com/forum.php?mod=viewthread&tid=703834&page=1#pid808806

[[来喝茶喽]]

We will post some works of Canadian poets who will attend the event.

We welcome everyone to try to translate them or discuss them.

Thanks our friends in China and USA to join us for the translations.

Here is the link. http://www.poemlife.com/forum.php?mod=viewthread&tid=703834&page=1#pid808806

[coviews]

Kateri Lanthier's Guanyin Lamp will be posted here soon after it gets published in English later this spring in Pamplemousse.

[[来喝茶喽]]

Kateri Lanthier's Guanyin Lamp will be posted here soon after it gets published in English later this spring in Pamplemousse.

[coviews]

Kateri Lanthier holds a BA and MA in English from the University of Toronto. Her poetry and reviews have been published in journals in Canada, the United States and England, including Green Mountains Review, Great Lakes Review, Hazlitt, London Magazine, Leveler, Canadian Poetries, EVENT and The Fiddlehead. Her first collection is Reporting from Night (Iguana Books, 2011). She won the 2013 Walrus Poetry Prize for her poem “The Coin Under the Leftmost Sliding Cup,” which was also included in The Best of Walrus Poetry and Best Canadian Poetry 2014. Her next collection is forthcoming from Signal Editions, Véhicule Press.




GUANYIN LAMP

Guanyin lamp left burning in a closed storefront.
Light without mercy on your small right-hand finger,
On your head and broken finger.

Here’s the boy, the girl, faces stroked by your robe.
You’re a hollow never filled
And your face is serene.

The “Cries of the World” unheard behind plate glass.
Dust-streaked kitsch, you dream of sound.
I dream of our rescue.

All that’s empty was once filled past the brim.
The fountains unstoppable–
Air, blood, song.

If I could rub your cheek, place a finger on your brow,
Find scrolled below the lotus the poems of — or —,
Not a worker’s lament.

One of the numbered innumerable, faces lowered.
Compassion cast in clay.
The moon in tears.
Blanched pomegranate at your feet. Fish mid-leap.
Shipped by freighter, globe-poised Guanyin, unhearing…
Unbury me.

Walk me through the flames. We’ll emerge soft and fearless
With a thousand arms each
And a mouth for every wound.

We’ll perch on chemical clouds, rolling dragon dust.
Pain glazed from our lips.
The planet run to extremes.

An engine misfires. I rest my forehead on glass.
Moth-hearted, lost in adulthood,
Thirsty for light.

All the cries of the world! Something to sell, swallow, sorrow.
Your uncontrolled kindness
Rains on the void.

[[来喝茶喽]]

Kateri Lanthier holds a BA and MA in English from the University of Toronto. Her poetry and reviews have been published in journals in Canada, the United States and England, including Green Mountains Review, Great Lakes Review, Hazlitt, London Magazine, Leveler, Canadian Poetries, EVENT and The Fiddlehead. Her first collection is Reporting from Night (Iguana Books, 2011). She won the 2013 Walrus Poetry Prize for her poem “The Coin Under the Leftmost Sliding Cup,” which was also included in The Best of Walrus Poetry and Best Canadian Poetry 2014. Her next collection is forthcoming from Signal Editions, Véhicule Press.




GUANYIN LAMP

Guanyin lamp left burning in a closed storefront.
Light without mercy on your small right-hand finger,
On your head and broken finger.

Here’s the boy, the girl, faces stroked by your robe.
You’re a hollow never filled
And your face is serene.

The “Cries of the World” unheard behind plate glass.
Dust-streaked kitsch, you dream of sound.
I dream of our rescue.

All that’s empty was once filled past the brim.
The fountains unstoppable–
Air, blood, song.

If I could rub your cheek, place a finger on your brow,
Find scrolled below the lotus the poems of — or —,
Not a worker’s lament.

One of the numbered innumerable, faces lowered.
Compassion cast in clay.
The moon in tears.
Blanched pomegranate at your feet. Fish mid-leap.
Shipped by freighter, globe-poised Guanyin, unhearing…
Unbury me.

Walk me through the flames. We’ll emerge soft and fearless
With a thousand arms each
And a mouth for every wound.

We’ll perch on chemical clouds, rolling dragon dust.
Pain glazed from our lips.
The planet run to extremes.

An engine misfires. I rest my forehead on glass.
Moth-hearted, lost in adulthood,
Thirsty for light.

All the cries of the world! Something to sell, swallow, sorrow.
Your uncontrolled kindness
Rains on the void.

[anna]

Kate Marshall Flaherty's two poems:


1) Dragon Fruit


You are sitting at a round table
with eleven other guests, slicing gently
into avocado and lime.
There is wine.
Some of you have broken bread.

Music wafts from the outer room, mingled
with smells of roasting yam and maple sugar.

You choose the rustic olive loaf,
tear off a crust, lick your fingers,
their rosemary salt.

On each plate, a slice of something milky-clear.
Dots like poppy seeds or inner kiwi specks.
It must be fruit, but it could be other, almost
of the sea, sushi-like anemone.

Will it be saline or sweet?

A wet drip sticks to your fingertip.
Touch it to your tongue:
sweet water, heavy, a little scent
of something from your Grandma’s rose kitchen.

You are told this is Chinese Dragon Fruit, are shown
the green scales with red tips
on the tuberous shape, recalling
a childhood puppet, amaryllis bulb,
the komodo dragon's poison claws,

a little choke of fear in your throat.

Look at the others’
curiosity around the circle—
some slurp it up in sections,
some decline. You imagine
yellow rays of Asian splendor like the sun
penetrating this delicacy.

Possible only in this era.
Eating fruit out of season—
you can ingest a patch of light
from another corner of the world.


2)

mosquitoes

are so fine
and light--
legs like hairs,
needle-nose a thin pin

wings you can’t even see
(although you know they fly)

could be
Pandora’s furies
let out of their silver box

minute sound waves
humming in the dark

food for bats and birds
(even their names sound like tapas)

how your cousins delighted
when m-bugs sparked
in the neon zappers
(and so did you)

i guess kids like us
loved the sound
of revenge
for a red lump
after the sting
_________________
---------------------

Anna Yin

《爱的灯塔-星子安娜双语诗选》
<Nightlights> <Seven Nights with the Chinese Zodiac> ...

http://annapoetry.com

[[星子安娜]]

Kate Marshall Flaherty's two poems:


1) Dragon Fruit


You are sitting at a round table
with eleven other guests, slicing gently
into avocado and lime.
There is wine.
Some of you have broken bread.

Music wafts from the outer room, mingled
with smells of roasting yam and maple sugar.

You choose the rustic olive loaf,
tear off a crust, lick your fingers,
their rosemary salt.

On each plate, a slice of something milky-clear.
Dots like poppy seeds or inner kiwi specks.
It must be fruit, but it could be other, almost
of the sea, sushi-like anemone.

Will it be saline or sweet?

A wet drip sticks to your fingertip.
Touch it to your tongue:
sweet water, heavy, a little scent
of something from your Grandma’s rose kitchen.

You are told this is Chinese Dragon Fruit, are shown
the green scales with red tips
on the tuberous shape, recalling
a childhood puppet, amaryllis bulb,
the komodo dragon's poison claws,

a little choke of fear in your throat.

Look at the others’
curiosity around the circle—
some slurp it up in sections,
some decline. You imagine
yellow rays of Asian splendor like the sun
penetrating this delicacy.

Possible only in this era.
Eating fruit out of season—
you can ingest a patch of light
from another corner of the world.


2)

mosquitoes

are so fine
and light--
legs like hairs,
needle-nose a thin pin

wings you can’t even see
(although you know they fly)

could be
Pandora’s furies
let out of their silver box

minute sound waves
humming in the dark

food for bats and birds
(even their names sound like tapas)

how your cousins delighted
when m-bugs sparked
in the neon zappers
(and so did you)

i guess kids like us
loved the sound
of revenge
for a red lump
after the sting
_________________
---------------------

Anna Yin

《爱的灯塔-星子安娜双语诗选》
<Nightlights> <Seven Nights with the Chinese Zodiac> ...

http://annapoetry.com

[anna]

http://www.catherinegraham.com/


To the Animal He Met in the Dark

I’ve often thought about you.

How you came in the night, in the middle of the night,
to stand on the road for some goddamn reason.

How in the blinding light you stood as still as branches,
like anything trapped.

Nothing to see in the darkened windshield—
just the last expression on my drunk father’s face,

and you, white-tailed beast, reflected, just like that,
on your way through your own nocturnal route.


Catherine Graham
from Her Red Hair Rises with the Wings of Insects (Wolsak & Wynn, 2013)
















There Is a Stir, Always

If I hold onto this body the snow will grow inside me
and the winter of my cells will flake
into tiny crystals like six-figured Gods,
each arrow tip attempting to make the point of something
as tears flow.

There is a stir, always.

I rise to the cold
to take my place among the fragile stars,
and sleep.

Catherine Graham
from Her Red Hair Rises with the Wings of Insects (Wolsak & Wynn, 2013)[img][/img]
_________________
---------------------

Anna Yin

《爱的灯塔-星子安娜双语诗选》
<Nightlights> <Seven Nights with the Chinese Zodiac> ...

http://annapoetry.com

[[星子安娜]]

http://www.catherinegraham.com/


To the Animal He Met in the Dark

I’ve often thought about you.

How you came in the night, in the middle of the night,
to stand on the road for some goddamn reason.

How in the blinding light you stood as still as branches,
like anything trapped.

Nothing to see in the darkened windshield—
just the last expression on my drunk father’s face,

and you, white-tailed beast, reflected, just like that,
on your way through your own nocturnal route.


Catherine Graham
from Her Red Hair Rises with the Wings of Insects (Wolsak & Wynn, 2013)
















There Is a Stir, Always

If I hold onto this body the snow will grow inside me
and the winter of my cells will flake
into tiny crystals like six-figured Gods,
each arrow tip attempting to make the point of something
as tears flow.

There is a stir, always.

I rise to the cold
to take my place among the fragile stars,
and sleep.

Catherine Graham
from Her Red Hair Rises with the Wings of Insects (Wolsak & Wynn, 2013)[img][/img]
_________________
---------------------

Anna Yin

《爱的灯塔-星子安娜双语诗选》
<Nightlights> <Seven Nights with the Chinese Zodiac> ...

http://annapoetry.com

[秋叶]

[[我还没有昵称]]

[anna]

好的。。。秋叶。谢谢。
_________________
---------------------

Anna Yin

《爱的灯塔-星子安娜双语诗选》
<Nightlights> <Seven Nights with the Chinese Zodiac> ...

http://annapoetry.com

[[星子安娜]]

好的。。。秋叶。谢谢。
_________________
---------------------

Anna Yin

《爱的灯塔-星子安娜双语诗选》
<Nightlights> <Seven Nights with the Chinese Zodiac> ...

http://annapoetry.com

[星子]

Patrick Connors chapbook, Scarborough Songs, was released by Lyricalmyrical Press in 2013. He has also recently had work published in Belgium, India, and Timmins. He was literary juror of Big Art Book 2013, a digital project of Scarborough Arts. He is a manager for the Toronto chapter of 100,000 Poets for Change.

Ready

A poem is the sunrise after darkest night;
an unexpected answer to much fervent prayer.

It is grace extended from a neglected muse,
only asking to be shared and seen, heard and felt.

A poem is inspiration
quickly recorded before lost,

cut down, built up, cut down again,
until it’s ready to be read.



_________________

[[ANNA]]

Patrick Connors chapbook, Scarborough Songs, was released by Lyricalmyrical Press in 2013. He has also recently had work published in Belgium, India, and Timmins. He was literary juror of Big Art Book 2013, a digital project of Scarborough Arts. He is a manager for the Toronto chapter of 100,000 Poets for Change.

Ready

A poem is the sunrise after darkest night;
an unexpected answer to much fervent prayer.

It is grace extended from a neglected muse,
only asking to be shared and seen, heard and felt.

A poem is inspiration
quickly recorded before lost,

cut down, built up, cut down again,
until it’s ready to be read.



_________________

[星子]

John Oughton

Born in Guelph, Ontario, John Oughton has lived in Iraq, Egypt, Japan and Canada.
He has published five books of poetry, most recently Time Slip (Guernica Editions) and over
400 articles, reviews, blogs and interviews. His first novel, Death by Triangulation, will be published this summer.
He is also a photographer with three solo shows. John is Professor of Learning and Teaching at Centennial College.

Aurora Borealis
by John Oughton
1.
We finger the fake lace
curtain, search the flat grey sky
for signifiers

Unseen, Northern Lights
wave and snap crackling
phosphorescent curtains of their own.

2.
A slice of pale orange/gold/peach
opens between heavy clouds and dull earth
there where the eye flies up

searching the framing blue
that shades into sea
crashing on galactic shores.
_______

For Yuan Mei
by John Oughton

Almost another
birthday. I drink
coffee and reflect
on the hill, how
the pines transmute
it to sky
and clouds with
their small, high
heads floating.

As a brush
sublimes stone
and water to song.
___________
_________________

[[ANNA]]

John Oughton

Born in Guelph, Ontario, John Oughton has lived in Iraq, Egypt, Japan and Canada.
He has published five books of poetry, most recently Time Slip (Guernica Editions) and over
400 articles, reviews, blogs and interviews. His first novel, Death by Triangulation, will be published this summer.
He is also a photographer with three solo shows. John is Professor of Learning and Teaching at Centennial College.

Aurora Borealis
by John Oughton
1.
We finger the fake lace
curtain, search the flat grey sky
for signifiers

Unseen, Northern Lights
wave and snap crackling
phosphorescent curtains of their own.

2.
A slice of pale orange/gold/peach
opens between heavy clouds and dull earth
there where the eye flies up

searching the framing blue
that shades into sea
crashing on galactic shores.
_______

For Yuan Mei
by John Oughton

Almost another
birthday. I drink
coffee and reflect
on the hill, how
the pines transmute
it to sky
and clouds with
their small, high
heads floating.

As a brush
sublimes stone
and water to song.
___________
_________________

[coviews]

秋叶，等你的翻译好了，我可以加上。

[[来喝茶喽]]

秋叶，等你的翻译好了，我可以加上。

[星子]

I will translate "GUANYIN LAMP" by Kateri Lanthier.
_________________

[[ANNA]]

I will translate "GUANYIN LAMP" by Kateri Lanthier.
_________________

[星子]

Thanks Ajiu. He will translate John Oughton's poems.

Thanks 明雨. She did translate Kate Marshall Flaherty's mosquitoes and mosquitoes

Thanks stonescott. He did translate Kate Marshall Flaherty's Dragon Fruit.

Thanks 姜海舟. He did translate Patrick Connor's Ready.

Here is the link to find these translations. Feel free to discuss. Thanks.

http://www.poemlife.com/forum.php?mod=viewthread&tid=703834&page=1#pid808806
_________________

[[ANNA]]

Thanks Ajiu. He will translate John Oughton's poems.

Thanks 明雨. She did translate Kate Marshall Flaherty's mosquitoes and mosquitoes

Thanks stonescott. He did translate Kate Marshall Flaherty's Dragon Fruit.

Thanks 姜海舟. He did translate Patrick Connor's Ready.

Here is the link to find these translations. Feel free to discuss. Thanks.

http://www.poemlife.com/forum.php?mod=viewthread&tid=703834&page=1#pid808806
_________________

[秋叶]

星子，你好！本来已经翻译了很久，但是原文某些内容含义一直没有办法确定，如：stir，所以先奉上供参考：
（从翻译角度说，一般从第二语言翻译到第一语言的，关键是对原文的了解，因为第二首的含义比较朦胧，所以难度大一些。）

To the Animal He Met in the Dark

I’ve often thought about you.

How you came in the night, in the middle of the night,
to stand on the road for some goddamn reason.

How in the blinding light you stood as still as branches,
like anything trapped.

Nothing to see in the darkened windshield—
just the last expression on my drunk father’s face,

and you, white-tailed beast, reflected, just like that,
on your way through your own nocturnal route.


Catherine Graham
from Her Red Hair Rises with the Wings of Insects (Wolsak & Wynn, 2013)

写给他在黑暗中遇见的动物

我经常想到你。

你怎么在晚上，在半夜来，
因为那该死的原因站在路上。

在眩目的光芒中，你象枝干般静立，
像被束缚着。

黑暗的挡风玻璃中看不到任何东西 —
就象我的醉父脸上最后的神色。

而你，白尾兽，反映出的，正是这样，
行进着自己夜行路线的方式。


凯瑟琳•格雷厄姆
选自《她的红发随昆虫翅膀飘起》
（Wolsak & Wynn,，2013）


There Is a Stir, Always

If I hold onto this body the snow will grow inside me
and the winter of my cells will flake
into tiny crystals like six-figured Gods,
each arrow tip attempting to make the point of something
as tears flow.

There is a stir, always.

I rise to the cold
to take my place among the fragile stars,
and sleep.

Catherine Graham
from Her Red Hair Rises with the Wings of Insects (Wolsak & Wynn, 2013)

始终，有一点移动

如果我保持不动，雪将在我的体内增长
我细胞的冬天将成碎片飘落
在小水晶球象六个神像般，
象眼泪流趟着
每个箭尖正试图指向某些方向。

始终，有一点移动。

我飘升到冷空上
置身于脆弱星星之中，
然后进入梦乡。


凯瑟琳•格雷厄姆
选自《她的红发随昆虫翅膀飘起》
（Wolsak & Wynn,，2013）

[[我还没有昵称]]

星子，你好！本来已经翻译了很久，但是原文某些内容含义一直没有办法确定，如：stir，所以先奉上供参考：
（从翻译角度说，一般从第二语言翻译到第一语言的，关键是对原文的了解，因为第二首的含义比较朦胧，所以难度大一些。）

To the Animal He Met in the Dark

I’ve often thought about you.

How you came in the night, in the middle of the night,
to stand on the road for some goddamn reason.

How in the blinding light you stood as still as branches,
like anything trapped.

Nothing to see in the darkened windshield—
just the last expression on my drunk father’s face,

and you, white-tailed beast, reflected, just like that,
on your way through your own nocturnal route.


Catherine Graham
from Her Red Hair Rises with the Wings of Insects (Wolsak & Wynn, 2013)

写给他在黑暗中遇见的动物

我经常想到你。

你怎么在晚上，在半夜来，
因为那该死的原因站在路上。

在眩目的光芒中，你象枝干般静立，
像被束缚着。

黑暗的挡风玻璃中看不到任何东西 —
就象我的醉父脸上最后的神色。

而你，白尾兽，反映出的，正是这样，
行进着自己夜行路线的方式。


凯瑟琳•格雷厄姆
选自《她的红发随昆虫翅膀飘起》
（Wolsak & Wynn,，2013）


There Is a Stir, Always

If I hold onto this body the snow will grow inside me
and the winter of my cells will flake
into tiny crystals like six-figured Gods,
each arrow tip attempting to make the point of something
as tears flow.

There is a stir, always.

I rise to the cold
to take my place among the fragile stars,
and sleep.

Catherine Graham
from Her Red Hair Rises with the Wings of Insects (Wolsak & Wynn, 2013)

始终，有一点移动

如果我保持不动，雪将在我的体内增长
我细胞的冬天将成碎片飘落
在小水晶球象六个神像般，
象眼泪流趟着
每个箭尖正试图指向某些方向。

始终，有一点移动。

我飘升到冷空上
置身于脆弱星星之中，
然后进入梦乡。


凯瑟琳•格雷厄姆
选自《她的红发随昆虫翅膀飘起》
（Wolsak & Wynn,，2013）

[anna]

Thanks Qiu ye. Nice.

Stir is not easy to translate... I too cannot find the right word, will ask Ajiu...

BTW, 在眩目的光芒中，你象枝干般伫立，
如物体被困着。

how about:
在眩目的光芒中，你象枝干般静立，
像被束缚着。
_________________
---------------------

Anna Yin

《爱的灯塔-星子安娜双语诗选》
<Nightlights> <Seven Nights with the Chinese Zodiac> ...

http://annapoetry.com

[[星子安娜]]

Thanks Qiu ye. Nice.

Stir is not easy to translate... I too cannot find the right word, will ask Ajiu...

BTW, 在眩目的光芒中，你象枝干般伫立，
如物体被困着。

how about:
在眩目的光芒中，你象枝干般静立，
像被束缚着。
_________________
---------------------

Anna Yin

《爱的灯塔-星子安娜双语诗选》
<Nightlights> <Seven Nights with the Chinese Zodiac> ...

http://annapoetry.com

[anna]

GuanYin Lamp by Kateri Lanthier

观音灯 --
by Kateri Lanthier
Translated by Anna Yin

在一个打烊的店面观音灯燃烧着。
在你小小的右手指，头顶和碎裂的指头上，
光亮不带怜悯，

这儿是男孩，女孩，脸孔被你的长袍抚摸。
你是空心永远充不满
你的脸一片安详。

“世上的呼喊”在平板玻璃后充耳不闻。
防尘条纹的媚俗，你想往声音。
我梦想我们的得救。

曾经被充满着溢过边缘的一切现在空空。
不断注满的喷泉-
空气，血液，歌声。

如果我能擦拭你的脸颊，安放手指在你的额前，
寻找涡卷在荷花下面的诗 – 或-
不是一个工匠的哀叹。

无数面孔朝下的其中一个。
恻隐之心用粘土铸成。
月亮在流泪。
你的脚下石榴失色。鱼飞跃着。
被货轮运送，全程-优雅的观音，充耳不闻。。。
发掘我。

伴我走过火焰。我们会呈现轻柔无畏
带着一千支臂膀
一张嘴平服各处创伤。

我们将栖息在冶炼云上，滚动着龙尘。
疼痛彩釉我们的嘴唇。
这行星走到了尽头。

发动机失火。我将前额贴在玻璃上休憩。
心像飞蛾，在成年后迷失，
饥渴于光。

世上所有的呼喊！物品来出售，吞咽，哀泣。
你失控的善良
雨落在虚空上。
_________________
---------------------

Anna Yin

《爱的灯塔-星子安娜双语诗选》
<Nightlights> <Seven Nights with the Chinese Zodiac> ...

http://annapoetry.com

[[星子安娜]]

GuanYin Lamp by Kateri Lanthier

观音灯 --
by Kateri Lanthier
Translated by Anna Yin

在一个打烊的店面观音灯燃烧着。
在你小小的右手指，头顶和碎裂的指头上，
光亮不带怜悯，

这儿是男孩，女孩，脸孔被你的长袍抚摸。
你是空心永远充不满
你的脸一片安详。

“世上的呼喊”在平板玻璃后充耳不闻。
防尘条纹的媚俗，你想往声音。
我梦想我们的得救。

曾经被充满着溢过边缘的一切现在空空。
不断注满的喷泉-
空气，血液，歌声。

如果我能擦拭你的脸颊，安放手指在你的额前，
寻找涡卷在荷花下面的诗 – 或-
不是一个工匠的哀叹。

无数面孔朝下的其中一个。
恻隐之心用粘土铸成。
月亮在流泪。
你的脚下石榴失色。鱼飞跃着。
被货轮运送，全程-优雅的观音，充耳不闻。。。
发掘我。

伴我走过火焰。我们会呈现轻柔无畏
带着一千支臂膀
一张嘴平服各处创伤。

我们将栖息在冶炼云上，滚动着龙尘。
疼痛彩釉我们的嘴唇。
这行星走到了尽头。

发动机失火。我将前额贴在玻璃上休憩。
心像飞蛾，在成年后迷失，
饥渴于光。

世上所有的呼喊！物品来出售，吞咽，哀泣。
你失控的善良
雨落在虚空上。
_________________
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Anna Yin

《爱的灯塔-星子安娜双语诗选》
<Nightlights> <Seven Nights with the Chinese Zodiac> ...

http://annapoetry.com