今天这位女诗人会有点让人震惊，恐怕比国内那些所谓的屎尿诗更会让一些人反感；不过，虽然我并不喜欢这一类诗，但本着我对当代诗歌一贯的“阅读·关注·在场”的态度，我觉得还是要介绍一些当下有很多读者的诗。考虑到平台与读者的容忍度，这里的翻译没有那么直白，例如干、爱爱、穴等，读者应该知道原文就是很直白的，这在当代日常使用中其实没有那么冒犯感，当然在诗歌中还是很有震惊效果的。
赫拉·林赛·伯德（Hera Lindsay Bird, 1987.12.31-）出生在新西兰北岛的泰晤士河畔，就读于惠灵顿维多利亚大学，随后在该校现代文学研究所获得诗歌硕士学位。她的首部诗集以自己名字命名，2016年由维多利亚大学出版社出版，2017年再由英国企鹅出版社出版，并荣获奥卡姆新西兰图书奖杰西·麦凯最佳处女作奖。
2016年夏天，她的诗《济慈已死，那就从后面干我》在网上疯传，伯德由此声名鹊起。此后，她被多种报刊包括《卫报》报道，而且《卫报》报道标题就很惊悚“爆炸的直升机与开鸡ba玩笑的诗人”。2018年，她的诗被英国桂冠诗人卡罗尔·安·达菲选中，收入桂冠诗人之选系列。
《做爱的方式》
（仿Bernadette Mayer）
像一个金属探测器探测另一个金属探测器
像两个孤独的学者在西里尔字母的黑暗凹槽中
像一颗古老的星星被慢慢吸进黑洞
我们用力过猛，玩坏了体育比赛，让奥运会组织者
获得丰厚的遣散费
你是一棵牛仔布树，我是世上最快的秋天。
我是大西洋堡垒，你是谢尔曼将军，
从背后攻占我。
你大步走进市政厅，挥舞着一份高潮请愿书。
一片云的唇轻拂谷仓的屋顶。
苍白的树木贴着眼睛，再回到大脑。
那就像透过万花筒看色情片，
或像风筝工厂里缓慢的风。
像狗儿试图以人的方式做，却因身体结构的不灵活而失败。
一群蝙蝠缓缓飘入你脑海中的房梁。
你把我的丝袜向下卷，像太阳从一只苏联地球仪上剥掉海洋。
我想你在十七世纪的田野中，像一台肉质拖拉机耕作大地。
在自然历史博物馆的
猛犸象的红色阴影下。
在太空站的气闸中，我的心颤抖得像一颗癫痫的星星。
因为你可能一边做爱
一边写诗，
那么脑叶切除手术台的塑料床单之间
就是愚蠢的最后避难所。
这就像得到三个愿望，而你愿望得到更少的愿望。
就像设计一面与天空颜色一模一样的旗帜。
就像在牛奶还没挤出之前就为牛奶洒掉了而哭泣。
就像在黎明时分闯入一片田地
让一头牛安乐死，好让你可以提前结束哭泣，
然后你就可以立刻开始调整到无乳糖的生活。
但无论诗歌想让我们相信什么，
爱情并不真的像宰牛。
一天就是一个被太阳撬开的保险库，
钱就像昂贵的树叶一样到处飞扬，
而我在这里恳求你回来，
仿佛你已经离去。
【译按】伯纳黛特·梅耶（Bernadette Mayer, 1945-2022）美国诗人、艺术家，与纽约派和语言派诗人联系。
Ways of Making Love
After Bernadette Mayer
Like a metal detector detecting another metal detector.
Like two lonely scholars in the dark clefts of the Cyrillic alphabet.
Like an ancient star slowly getting sucked into a black hole.
So hard we break sports, leaving the conveners of the Olympics
with a generous redundancy package.
You are a denim tree and I’m the world’s fastest autumn.
I am the Atlantic Fortress, and you are General Sherman
taking me from behind.
You stride into council chambers, waving a petition to orgasm.
A lip of cloud brushes the roof of the barn.
The pale trees curve around the eye and back into the brain.
It’s like watching porn through a kaleidoscope
or a slow wind in a kite factory.
Like dogs trying to do it people-style, but failing due to the inflexibility of their anatomical structure.
A cloud of bats float slowly up into your brain rafters.
You roll down my stockings, like the sun peeling ocean from a Soviet globe.
I want you in a seventeenth-century field, tilling the earth like flesh tractors.
In the red shade of a mammoth
in the Natural History Museum.
In the airlock of a space station, my heart shaking like an epileptic star.
Between the plastic sheets of a lobotomy table
because writing poetry about fucking
when you could be fucking
is the last refuge of the stupid.
It’s like getting three wishes and wishing for less wishes.
It’s like designing a flag the exact same colour as the sky.
It’s like crying over spilled milk before it’s out of the cow.
It’s like breaking into a field at dawn
and euthanising the cow so you can get your crying over and done with
and immediately begin adjusting to your new lactose-free existence.
But love isn’t really like killing cattle
no matter what poetry wants us to believe.
The day is a vault the sun has cracked open
money flying everywhere like really expensive leaves
and here I am begging you to come back
as if you were already gone
“2013年在野地里做爱”
是这首诗的标题，但这也是一个真实的爱情故事
我正和你做爱
一只鸟就在我旁边喂另一只鸟
把它们的影子像黑糖投进了
我的生活
我喜欢这种糟糕的感觉，因为它让我想到我是人
我也爱这种生活
每天都有新事物发生，我想
如今世事就是这样
我感觉这就是一个陌生人把舌头伸进我两腿之间
在新年第一天的第一个钟头
在我醒来
看到一片缓缓摇曳的树木时
在此刻我告诉你们时
朋友，我爱一切新事物
甚至包括刚刚心碎的头几天
所有美的事物都被点燃
仙人掌上玻璃般的茸毛
鸟儿在惊叹中燃烧
我在生活中做过许多事
和很多人交谈过
有些人在凌晨一点烂醉的时候打电话给我
这些都是我最好的朋友
对我来说，他们就像绵延几公里的雪
我打开语音信箱时
能听到其中一个人说：
她刚刚挂了我们的电话吗？
Having Sex in a Field in 2013
Is the title of this poem, but it’s also a true story about being in love
I am in love with you
While one bird feeds another bird right next to me
they throw their shadows into my life
like black sugar
I love to feel this bad because it reminds me of being human
I love this life too
Every day something new happens and I think
so this is the way things are now
I thought that as a stranger put his tongue between my legs
in the first hour of the New Year
and again as I woke
to a field of slow blowing trees
and right now telling you
Friends, I love everything new
even the first days of heartbreak
when everything beautiful is set alight
the glass fur of the cactus
birds on fire with wonder
I have done many things in my life
I have talked to many people
Some of these people have called me very drunk at one in the morning
These people are my best friends
They are like miles of snow to me
When I listen to my voicemail
I can hear one of them saying
Did she just hang up on us
《济慈已死，那就从后面干我》
济慈已死，那就从后面干我
慢慢干，只带着肉欲意图
在某个黑暗的冬日下午
当孩子们都走在放学回家的路上
你用牙齿把我的丝袜褪下
柯勒律治已死去，奥登也已死了
穿着风衣大笑而死
雪莱死在海上，他的心脏烧不掉
华兹华斯……
他的尸体从未被找到
他的遗孀悲痛得发了疯，在一片空草地上钉钉子
拜伦，惠特曼，我们的狗被车库的门压死
慢慢地指交我
在你童年的雪景中
我们的亡者在地面表层下漂浮
把我撅起来，像一个代课老师
用颤栗的箭射满我
哦，感情上的脆弱啊
波斯尼亚民歌，烟囱里的鸟儿
告诉我当你以为我每在听的时候你爱什么
华莱士·史蒂文斯的母亲喊他回家吃晚饭
但他不会回来了，他也死了，死在六十年前
他的葬礼上没人在乎
生活是真实的
日子像豹纹一样燃烧殆尽
没有人，甚至死者，也不能告诉我该做什么
从后面舔我的穴
比尔·曼海尔也不再年轻了
【译按】比尔·曼海尔（Bill Manhire, 1946-）诗人，短篇小说家，学者，教授，积极向世界推送新西兰文学；1975年在新西兰创设了第一个大学写作班，也是许多著名诗人的老师，他自己是很优秀的诗人，1997–1998当选为新西兰首届桂冠诗人。
Keats Is Dead So Fxxk Me From Behind
Keats is dead, so fxxk me from behind
Slowly and with carnal purpose
Some black midwinter afternoon
While all the children are walking home from school
Peel my stockings down with your teeth
Coleridge is dead, and Auden too
Of laughing in an overcoat
Shelley died at sea and his heart wouldn’t burn
And Wordsworth ......
They never found his body
His widow mad with grief, hammering nails into an empty meadow
Byron, Whitman, our dog crushed by a garage door
Finger me slowly
In the snowscape of your childhood
Our dead floating just below the surface of the earth
Bend me over like a substitute teacher
& pump me full of shivering arrows
O emotional vulnerability
Bosnian folk-song, birds in the chimney
Tell me what you love when you think I’m not listening
Wallace Stevens’s mother is calling him in for dinner
But he’s not coming, he’s dead too, he died sixty years ago
And nobody cared at his funeral
Life is real
And the days burn off like leopard print
Nobody, not even the dead can tell me what to do
Eat my pussy from behind
Bill Manhire’s not getting any younger
【下面这一部分选自诗人的一个访谈】
