还叫海棠[陕西]
诗十首
倒影
还没有来得及细细欣赏这份浩荡
我便坠入 这左右为难的倒影里
闭着眼睛 心中兵慌马乱
微风在恐惧中举出柳枝 鸟声 花蕾
还有这羞涩的春天
一切都在绽放
像朋友圈里每家每户里的万般不舍
以及扔进垃圾篮里的釉上彩
听着身体里千万次破碎又重组的声音
这人间的灰尘
这无法介入的因果
还有这无法的原谅 无法的赔偿
在这无法的赞美里
我不知道我还有多少个春天可以挥霍
也不知道还有多少个提心吊胆的春天
雾漫山川
我闻到了一丝苍凉
那无奈的眼神
我也选择了逃避
独自走上属于我的那条路
脑海里加速的反刍
那一撮油腻分明也在逃离
为什么 这明明是春天
也有淡淡的阳光在加持
那一抹忧郁的蓝
冲不开远古的回忆
很多的时光已经离去
低到了尘埃里
那挂在铁丝线上的白毛巾
也许已经转世 脱离以前的病身
幻化成阳光的样子
对着一帮无知而莽撞的少年
充满爱意的 快乐的微笑
简单的活着
在印度，在恒河边上
美丽的清晨、安静的蝴蝶
一双精致的长指
开始了一场欢快的剔除
蝴蝶的灵魂、肉身被快速的剥落
被分类的骨头 、开始狂欢
这灵巧的双手
这人间的精灵
这褐色的幽默、肆意的行走
鲜花和掌声被充分的消解
这跨越的国界、像我们聊斋里的远古
更是一场命运的洗礼
简单二字用彩色的笔墨重新书写
她们的灵魂再一次被镶嵌在你的嘴巴里
你的鼻翼之上
再一次、两次、甚至三次
重复的感知
这尘世间所有的温情
启封的盒子
这是一场黑色的幽默
时间的指针飞速的向前推进
欧洲中世纪时期
潘多拉魔盒开始启封
很多年轻的骨头、开始凌乱
疯狂起舞
错误的朝拜、巧合的痛苦
青山之上、流水之下
舒展的空气在销魂、在沐浴
很多的诗歌涌向这里
蝴蝶静静的伫立在生命的肩头
表达着思念之情
在蓝天白云下、在清晨
很多的暗物质
深情相拥
致友
我又掉入到一种思维里
久久的不能出来
就像今天的相遇
我们同时掉入到一个
甜甜的、温暖的季节里
每一次的相逢
你总是像一汪清泉
洗涤我尘封已久的灵魂
你不经意的一个动作
亦或是一个回眸
恰如一朵浪花来到我的身边
有时，又是一张清纯的照片
就那么快乐、甜美的向我走来
在抬手投足间、像完美的化身
让我深深膜拜
三月
天空像一万年前的蓝
操场上大片的玉兰一层一层的开放
解锁出纷飞的姿势
没有一点羞涩的感觉
这是一场盛大的花事
每一个人的内心都像脱掉了厚厚的棉袄
如释重负的样子
小鸟从一个枝头跃向另一个枝头
羽翼愈发的丰满
一只、二只、三只……十三只
像炽烈的火焰
一路摇唱 充满希望的飞向我
等着我满满的投喂
这个季节
这恐怕是我最快乐的事了
第一片落叶
你解锁的方式
像一股清新的风
吹落这个清晨
我看到第一片落叶 和它脉络分明的脸
也像这个季节
同时移动的还有更多海水
海水里很多的生物在大口的喘气
时不时的把鼻孔浮在海面上
天空、云彩带着她的礼服
也快速的逃离
空气中弥漫着恐惧的声音
小鸟放牧着小小的思绪
无奈 而又单纯
这一切都掠过我的生活
我感觉我无法自然的呼吸
我庆幸生活在内陆
梦中 海边的房子 光怪陆离
二月
读一首诗的时间
春便开始荡漾起来了
鸟儿衔着柳枝
听着过早的春风
依着还挂在树梢上的红灯笼
使劲的摇曳着
明目张胆的晃着
好像都是雪花的纷飞压制了她成长的速度
我好像已经看到露头的小嫩芽儿
呆萌呆萌的摇晃着小脑袋
用稚嫩而又清甜的声音
对着这个世界说
我又来了
这时，那些军大衣
还有那些小棉袄也都出来了
她们在街道里，地铁里
在相互簇拥的景点里
使劲的挤呀挤
挤的路边的小花都情不自禁的露出了笑脸
挤的河里的水流哗啦啦
遇见乾陵
深秋、暮寒、月光皎洁
我终于可以安静的长眠于这片美丽的群山之上
卸下宝冠璎珞珠饰
依着我的夫君、尽显倦怠之感
遗忘那个傲慢的年代
轻读这山上的每一片落叶
轻读这山上每一季轮回
还有穿梭在枝头的风声
有时我也会细读
无字碑上那些分行的文字
会轻轻抚摸守护我的美丽鸵鸟
偶尔会和各国来的大使在夜光下
用精致的杯子相互畅谈、在这盛世人间
也已经习惯了在每个清晨
迎接从山下，从世界各地赶来的人群
她们脚下踩着我们大唐的青砖
用好奇的闪光灯拍摄记录
让饱含的笔墨、亦或是研究
我的前世、今生、来世
其实我也是娘胎里的一枚可爱的孩子
经常散发少女们都有的那一点点小心思
我更想做一个陶渊明笔下那个世外的女子
嫁人、相夫、教子、衣食温饱
我传奇的身世在每天、在每个日出
在每个星光的照耀下
已被多种撰写
无奈我久经岁月、已练就别的女人难有的胸怀
我知道，在未来的日子里
还会有一些神奇的版本出现
我依然会在闲暇之余去轻读
恰如空中刚刚飞过的鸟鸣
土默特大街上守夜的玫瑰
阳光洒满街道的时候你把自己放进梦乡
像放置一朵玫瑰
你流浪的身体总是在黑夜里铺开
那些盗取月光并打算去贩买的人
总是从你这里找寻欢愉
你有过无数次的爱情 并显得尤其无情
虽然夜很黑 可你心思单纯
你兀自窃笑着 也没有讨价还价
在欢笑声中拿了属于你的那部分
你的身体里也有一列火车
在不断的卸下旧时光
从初见你的丰腴到现在清白 单薄
你不会为生活碰的鼻青面肿 再泪痕满面的回来
你不清不白的人生
只记得宠过你的男人还会不会来
手里拿着是不是和上次长得一样的钞票
Haijiao Haitang [Shaanxi]
Ten Poems
Inverted Image
Before I have time to carefully admire the vastness
I fall into the reflection of this dilemma
Eyes closed my heart uneasy with horses & soldiers
The breeze holds the willow branches birds twitters flowers
As well as the shy spring
Everything is blooming
Like the lingering emotion from household to household on WeChat Moments
And the on-glaze decoration thrown into the garbage basket
Listening to the sound of millions of breaking and recombining
The dust in the world
The cause and effect which cannot be intervened in
And the inability to forgive the inability to compensate
In the inability to praise
I do not know how many spring I have to squander
Neither do I know how many springs for me to dread
The Fog Filling Hills and Rills
I have smelled a hint of desolation
The helpless eyes
I also choose to escape
Alone on the road that belongs to me
The accelerated rumination in my mind
The pinch of greasy is also clearly fleeing
Why this is the very spring
With a touch of sunshine in blessing
That touch of melancholy blue
Fails to open the ancient memories
A lot of time has elapsed
Low into dust
The white towel hanging on the wire
Perhaps have been reincarnated from the previous sick body
Transformed into sunlight
To a bunch of ignorant and reckless teenagers
Smiles filled with love joy
Simple Life
In India, by the Ganges River
A beautiful morning, a quiet butterfly
A pair of long delicate fingers
Begin a joyous culling
The soul and flesh of the butterfly are quickly peeled off
The categorized bones begin their carnival
The dexterous hands
The spirit of the world
The brown humor, wanton walking
Flowers and applause are fully dissolved
The nation-crossing border, like the antiquity in The Ghost Stories
And a baptism of fate
The word of “simple” is rewritten in colored ink
Their souls are once again inlaid in your mouth
Over your nose
Again, twice, even three times
Repeated perception
All the warmth of the world
An Open Box
This is a black humor
The clock handle of time hurtles forward
In medieval Europe
The Pandora’s Box is opened
A lot of young bones begin to be messy
Crazy dance
Wrong worships, the coincidence of pain
Atop the green mountain, under the running water
The stretching air is in ecstasy, taking a bath
A host of poems are crowding here
Butterflies stand quietly on the shoulders of life
To express their yearning
Under the blue sky and white clouds in the morning
A lot of dark matters
Affectionate embracing
To a Friend
I fall into a thought
And I cannot get out for a long time
Like the encounter today
At the same time we fall into
A sweet, warm season
Each time we meet
You are always like a clear spring
To wash my long-sealed soul
Your casual action
Or a look back
Just like a spray coming to my side
Sometimes, again it is a pure photo
So happy, so sweet, coming to me
Between hands lifting and feet moving, like a perfect incarnation
For me to worship profoundly
March
The sky is like the blue of ten thousand years ago
The playground is alive with big magnolias blossoming upon magnolias
To unlock the flying posture
Without a bit shy feeling
This is a grand flowery affair
The heart of everybody is as if a heavy cotton-padded jacket is taken off
The air of heaving relief
A bird leaps from one branch to the next
Their wings growing full and fuller
One, two, three... thirteen of them
Like blazing flames
Singing and flying towards me full of hope
Waiting for me to feed
This season
This is probably my most joyful thing
The First Falling Leaf
The way you unlock it
Is like a fresh wind
Blowing down this morning
I see the first falling leaf and its clear-veined face
Also like this season
Moving at the same time is more seawater
Where many creatures are gasping for breath
From time to time their nostrils float on the sea
The sky, the clouds with her dress
Quickly fleeing
The air is filled with the fearful sound
Little birds graze their little thoughts
Helpless and simple
All this passes through my life
I feel like I cannot breathe naturally
I am glad to be living in the inland
In the dream the seaside house gaudy and grotesque
February
The time to read a poem
And spring begins to ripple and popple
The birds holding willow twigs
Listening to the premature spring breeze
In accordance with the red lanterns still hanging on the trees
Swaying hard
And dancing brazenly
As if the flying snowflakes are suppressing her growth
I seem to have seen the budding small buds
Lovely shaking their small heads
With young and sweet voice
Saying to the world
I am here again
When the army coats
And the little cotton-padded jackets are showing themselves
In the streets, in the subway
In the crowded attractions
They are elbowing and jostling with each other
The small flowers by the crowded road cannot help but smile
And the water in the river is babbling and clattering
Meeting the Qianling Mausoleum
Late autumn, cold at dusk, bright moonlight
Eventually I can rest in peace upon these beautiful hills
Off with my crown and pearls
Leaning against my husband with weariness
Forget that arrogant age
Gently read each and every leaf in the mountain
Gently read each and every season of reincarnation in the mountain
And the wind shuttling through the branches
Sometimes I read carefully
The words in different lines on the tablets without words
I will gently stroke the beautiful ostrich guarding me
And will occasionally, with ambassadors from various countries
Talk with exquisite cups in the night light, in this prosperous world
In each morning I am used to
Meeting people from all over the world, from the bottom of the mountain
They step on the blue bricks of the Tang dynasty
With curious flash for photography records
For the ink soaked with emotion, or study
My past life, this life, and the next life
Actually I am also a loveable child in Mother’s womb
Often cherishing a little girlish thoughts
I would like to be a girl from beyond the world described by Tao Yuanming
Who marries, loves her husband, teaches her children, with adequate food and clothes
My legendary life, in each passing day, in each sunrise
And in each brilliant star
Has been written in many ways
Helplessly I have been tempered though the years with a mind detached from other women
I know, in the days to come
There are magical versions
Still I will read in my spare time
Like a bird’s song just flying through the sky
The Roses at a Vigil on Tumt Street
When the sun fills the streets you put yourself to sleep
Like placing a rose
Your wandering body is always spreading out in the night
Those who steal the moonlight to sell it
Always resort to you for pleasure
You have been in love for countless times and seem to be heartless
Though the night is dark your mind is simple
You laugh to yourself without bargaining
Amidst laughing to take what belongs to you
In your body there is also a train
Which is continuously unloading the old time
From the first sight of your plumpness to the now thinness and innocence
You will not be bruised for life to be back with a tearful face
Your complicated life
Only memory of the man who spoiled you, to be back or not
Holding in the hand, the same paper money or not
（Tr. Prof. Zhang Zhizhong; 张智中教授 译）
作者简介
还叫海棠，本名梁小红，陕西咸阳人。中国当代女诗人。华人诗学会会员，“诗歌前线”副主编，《世界诗歌文学》诗社执行主编，第九届半朵中文网专栏作家。诗作散见于《诗刊》《大昆仑》《人生啊，人生》《中国诗人》《2023中国作家诗人风采日历》《诗歌前线》等纸刊和网络诗刊。有诗入选《世界华人诗歌精选2020》等。
诗观：诗歌有时是一种误会。
About the author
Haoijiao Taitang, real name Liang Xiaohong, a native of Xianyang, Shaanxi Province, is a poetess in contemporary China. She is a member of Chinese Poetry Society, deputy editor of “Poetry Front Line”, executive editor of World Poetry & Literature, columnist of the 9th Half Blossom Chinese website. Her poems are scattered in newspapers and online poetry journals such as Poetry Periodical, Great Kunlun, Life, Oh Life, Chinese Poets, 2023 Calendar of Chinese Writers and Poets and Poetry Front Line. Some of her poems are included in Choice Selection of Chinese Poetry in the World 2020.
Her poetry view: Poetry is sometimes a misunderstanding.
译者简介
张智中，南开大学外国语学院教授、博士研究生导师、翻译系主任、中华诗词外译中心主任、中国翻译协会理事，中国英汉语比较研究会典籍英译专业委员会副会长，天津师范大学跨文化与世界文学研究院兼职教授，天津市比较文学学会理事，天津市人民政府学位委员会评议组成员、专业学位教育指导委员会委员，世界汉学·文学中国研究会理事兼英文秘书长，国家社科基金项目通讯评审专家和结项鉴定专家，天津外国语大学中央文献翻译研究基地兼职研究员，《国际诗歌翻译》季刊客座总编，《世界汉学》英文主编，《中国当代诗歌导读》编委会成员，中国当代诗歌奖评委等。出版编、译、著近120部，发表学术论文130篇，获翻译与科研多种奖项。汉诗英译多走向国外，获国际著名诗人和翻译家的广泛好评。译诗观：但为传神，不拘其形，散文笔法，诗意内容；将汉诗英译提高到英诗的高度。
About the translator
Zhang Zhizhong is professor, doctoral supervisor and dean of the Translation Department, as well as director of the Center for Globalization of Chinese Poetry of the School of Foreign Studies, Nankai University; meanwhile, he is director of the Translators’ Association of China, vice chairman of the Committee for English Translation of Chinese Classics of the Association for Comparative Studies of English and Chinese, part-time professor of Cross-Culture & World Literature Academy of Tianjin Normal University, director of Tianjin Comparative Literature Society, member of Tianjin Municipal Government Academic Degree Committee, member of Tianjin Municipal Government Professional Degree Education Guiding Committee, director and English secretary-general of World Sinology·Literary China Seminar, expert for the approval and evaluation of projects funded by the National Social Science Foundation of China, part-time researcher at the Central Literature Translation Research Base of Tianjin Foreign Studies University, guest editor of Rendition of International Poetry, English editor-in-chief of World Sinology, member of the editing board of Guided Reading Series in Contemporary Chinese Poetry, and member of the Board for Contemporary Chinese Poetry Prizes. He has published almost 120 books and 130 academic papers, and he has won a host of prizes in translation and academic research. His English translation of Chinese poetry is widely acclaimed throughout the world, and is favorably reviewed by international poets and translators. His view on poetry translation: spirit over form, and prose enjambment to rewrite Chinese poetry into sterling English poetry.
