姜涛
就分出了类型：男与女、正与邪、昆虫和外星人
时光也从左脸放纵到右脸
停下的时候，就下课了，讲台像悬崖自动地落下
原来，这世界大得很，每一片树叶下
都藏了一对偷吻的学生，在那一泡像被尿出的但并不因此
而著名的湖上，也浮了更广大的坟
不需要准备，就可以放声，就可以变形
──时刻准备着，但据来电显示
我的变形要从鳞翅目开始，也不轻松。
One Afternoon When I Was a Lecturer
in pitch dark, how can a gaze so rashly
distinguish: men from women, righteous from evil, insects from aliens
time indulges from the left to right cheek
and when it stops, school’s out, the speaker’s platform sinks like a cliff
it turns out this world is enormous, hidden under every leaf
is a student couple making out on the sly, while on that pond, which looks
like someone pissed it there, though that’s not why it’s famous, float even larger tombs
no prep needed, you can raise your voice, you can morph
─but always be prepared,. since according to caller ID
my metamorphosis must begin as a butterfly, and that’s no joke.
Translated from Chinese by Josh Stenberg
高峰
姜涛
没奈何，这预料中的前戏
乏味又短暂，一场新雪
在我们身上，还没深深浸润过
还没真的兴奋过，乌云
就被拆走了床垫
露出的豪宅，不过是小户鸽笼
敞开向余生
好在，约定的时间未到
可以先驻足参观：树梢上
挂着冻红的果实
草地下，埋了游泳的会馆
这社区风物，竟如此熟悉
像被一一梦到过
甚至像被快乐地多次享用过
你却说：其实是眼球的凸面
沾了水汽，从B2到B3
只有向下挖掘，财富
才露出它的核心
我咕哝了几句，尝试另一种
反驳：其实只有贫穷
才俗气地讳莫如深
话不投机，还是一起攀登吧
扮演牵手的夫妇，在裸体楼梯上
辨别飘忽的陌生人：
你看，那疲倦的运水夫
肩扛了一大桶郊外的湖
那眉毛高挑的快递员
唇上还卖弄一抹油腻的远山
那压碎了小指的修锁匠
只能靠拇指工作，拨开树叶下的弹簧
那瞌睡的、来自安徽的小保姆
则惦记起老鳏夫
和他升天的哈巴犬
跟我们一起攀登吧，陌生人
这高楼不过十几层
这快感不过十几重
什么吵吵嚷嚷、花花草草
全是心头未了的贷款
（我们都是过来人）
可有谁没能按月地偿清？
但在那里，一切的峰巅
北风也曾强劲地狡辩
我们按下门铃，说明来意
却意外地发现：大卧室
套着小客厅，男主人脸色阑珊
反穿了拖鞋，白墙上
有女主人疾行中的脚印
Summit
it’s hopeless, this expected foreplay
brief and insipid, new snowfall
on our bodies, though not yet permeating
not yet truly excited, the storm clouds
have had their mattresses ripped off
revealing a mansion which is only a humble dovecote
opening towards the rest of life
at least the appointed hour has not yet come
we can take a break, have a gander: treetops
hang with frost-red fruit
beneath the lawn, the swimming club is buried
this neighborhood’s scenery is so familiar
like each detail has been dreamt
even gleefully and repeatedly enjoyed
though you say: actually it’s because the eyeball’s convexity is
vapor-moistened, and to get from B2 to B3
you have to keep digging down, that’s where wealth betrays its core
I mutter a few sentences, try some other
refutation: in fact only poverty
has the vulgarity to be tight-lipped
we talk at cross purposes, we’ll clamber up instead
play the roles of a hand-holding couple on the stripped steps
picking out the swift strangers:
look, that exhausted water-carrier
carrying a huge barrel of suburban lake on his shoulder
the courier service guy with the leaping eyebrows
his lips show a smear of oily distant hills
the locksmith with a crushed pinky finger
has to work with his thumbs,
pushes aside the springs beneath the leaves
the napping nanny from Anhui
keeps fretting about the old widower
and the pekinese dog who went with him to heaven
climb with us, stranger
this building’s not much more than ten stories high
the pleasure’s not much more than ten tons heavy
why the racket, the thicket
all the debts of an unfinished heart
(we’ve been around the block)
but who hasn’t managed to repay it in monthly installments?
but there, über allen Gipfeln,
the north wind once advanced its clever lies
we ring the doorsbell: explain why we’ve come
and discover to our surprise: the master bedroom
encases the parlor, the leading man’s complexion crumbles,
his slippers are on upside-down, on the white wall
are the leading lady’s racing footprints
Translated from Chinese by Josh Stenberg
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