诗人曰：我是一整颗橙子

海外文苑

<h5 style="text-align:center;">美国[綜合新聞]文藝版800期</h5><h5 style="text-align:center;">主编：佩英</h5><h5 style="text-align:center;">总编：程朗</h5><h5 style="text-align:center;">总顾问：马华胜</h5>汉译：佩英（Translated by Christine Chen）<h5> </h5><h5>编者按：</h5><h5> 印度女詩人雷什瑪，帶來一股清新之風。她是一名牙科醫生，其詩風有科學理性的一面，又有印度文化一脈相承的古樸與純粹。她的那首“他留下的東西”以真實意向入詩，真實具體的物象，無一絲故弄玄虛。其詩源於生活，但又高於生活，把祖父留下的東西精神化，成為活著的人的生命延續下去的信念支柱，動人心魄。另外一首“我是”，把理性與感性完美結合，把一個美麗、深邃、才情橫溢又激情滿滿的女性形象多維立體呈現出來。讀完，如口含橄欖，甘之如飴。</h5><h5> 比利時女詩人西爾維，其詩天馬行空，想象力極其豐富。那首[無題·三]以形象的方式，表達了一種刻骨銘心、揮之不去的情感，讓抽象具象化。“無題·二”可謂絕佳的寫照，以一條魚美人的獨白與想象，把迂迴曲折的人生描繪出來，生命可以修正后再開始嗎？人生可有後悔藥？出其不意的想象，描繪愛情、人生的美妙及苦樂，異常活潑靈動。（佩英）</h5><h5> </h5><h5>Editorial：</h5><h5>Indian poet Dr. Reshma Ramesh brings a refreshing breeze to poetry. Not only is she a dentist, but her poetic style also combines a scientific rationality with the simplicity and purity of Indian cultural heritage. Her poem The Things He Left Behind employs genuine imagery and concrete objects, with no trace of pretension or mystification. This poem is rooted in life yet transcends it, spiritualizing the things her grandfather left behind into a pillar of faith that sustains the living, touching the hearts of readers. Another poem, I Am, blends reason and emotion, presenting a multidimensional and vivid portrait of a beautiful, profound, talented, and passionate woman. Reading it feels like savoring an olive—bitter yet sweet and deeply satisfying.</h5><h5>Belgian poet Sylvie’s works are imaginative and full of boundless creativity. Her poem Untitled III uses vivid imagery to express an unforgettable, lingering emotion, turning the abstract into the tangible. Untitled II is an exceptional piece that, through the monologue and imagination of a mermaid-fish, depicts the twists and turns of life. Can life be corrected and restarted? Is there a remedy for regret? These unexpected imaginings beautifully capture the joys and sorrows of love and life, making the poem unusually lively and dynamic. (By Christine Chen）</h5> <h5>雷什玛·拉梅什博士，印度诗人、作家、翻译家和活动家、牙医。她用英语和卡纳达语双语写作，已用多语言出版了六本诗集，其诗作被永久陈列在土耳其安塔利亚的古城奥林波斯遗址，这是她的独特荣誉。她曾获女性艺术节国际荣誉奖、伊斯坦布尔加拉塔之光奖、塞尔维亚国际印迪亚专业诗人奖诗人奖、卡纳塔克邦女性成就奖、萨维特里·拜·富勒全国女性成就奖以及印度MI女性成就奖等多项奖项。她的土耳其诗集《我的心在奥林波斯》的第二版被陈列在土耳其恰纳卡莱的博兹贾阿达博物馆。她举办过多次国际个人摄影展。</h5> <div>这首诗</div><div> </div>这首诗是一所关着门的房子 在冬天停下来，翻阅书本 寻找熟悉的折痕或已消失的痕迹 这首诗正望向窗外 在城市之间转换 开始将大海一行一行地引入诗句中 像一个穿着沉重靴子的士兵，想着家 这首诗是一艘从你到我的纸船 黑白分明，湿漉漉的，载着孩子们和岛屿 他们梦见在母亲身旁醒来 这首诗是一条街道，在某个地方某天 我们相遇 发现自己在你的胸口，触碰到的是不存在的的彼此 这是一首第二次到来的诗 一个满身煤灰的男孩 他的话语声提醒你 你从未离开过出发的地方 <div>This Poem</div><div> </div>This poem is a house with closed doors where winter pauses to look into books for familiar ear marked pages or the absence of it. This poem is looking out of a window, swapping cities, split beginning to draw the sea into its lines, line by line, like a soldier walking with heavy boots thinking of home. This poem is a paper boat sailing from you to me, black and white, wet, carrying children and islands who dream of waking up beside their mother. This poem is a street where somewhere someday we would meet to find myself drawn to our absence with your hand in my chest. This poem is a poem that arrives for the second time a boy covered in soot, sound of his words, reminding you that you never left where you started 他留下的东西 我的祖父留下 带橙色茎的坠落的夜香花 一个像世界般展开的庭院 充满待发现的事物 却如爱人的肌肤般熟悉 他留下了一间客厅，清晨的阳光 如河流般流淌，轻触 我祖母疼痛的双脚 他留下了向阳倾斜的茉莉 用一种合一的语言交谈 留下了芒果树，果实落入 任何张开双手祈祷的人手中 他留下了破碎的瓦片，屋顶上 织巢鸟会在那里建造它的家 他留下了游走的书虫，栖息在 霉味的书页中，那些渴望结局的故事里 他留下了我的祖母 在一间闷闷不乐的房间里，打开的窗户 将大海中破碎的事物引入，填满她的胸怀 带来空荡房子的沉重 以及所有他留下的东西 Things that he left behind My grandfather has left behind Falling parijathas with orange stems A courtyard that opens like the world With things to be discovered Yet Familiar like a lover’s skin A living room where light flows Like a river every morning touching The banks of my grandmother’s aching feet He has left behind mogras that lean Towards the sun and speak a language Of togetherness Mango trees that drop fruits into Anyone’s hands who open Their palms into prayers Broken tiles where a weaver bird In the roof will build her home Slithering book worms dwelling In musty pages with stories that long for closure He has left behind my grandmother In a sulking room with open windows that draws Broken things from the sea to fill her bosom With heaviness of an empty house And all the things that he has left behind 水井的解剖 一口井总是赤裸裸地暴露在外 在阳光下伸展开来 她的肌肤满是冲积土 一圈圈的砖环，旋转的湿润梦境 不断地旋转。 一根绳索垂吊，像殉道者般。 一口井等待着一双疲惫的女人的手 将她拉进湿润的纱丽里 水罐吻着她裸露的腰际 水花时不时溅在她的肚脐上 她的眼睛闭合着，听着女人们的闲谈 她的手指学会描绘 云朵、树木、鸟儿和倾身而视的人们的倒影 她的静脉与动脉是通向地下水道的秘密通道 夜晚，她成了月亮的摇篮 为干涸的黄昏唱着摇篮曲 她等待着一艘小船，等待着那些 油亮头发的女人们，她们俯下身子 棕色的胸膛低垂，乞求施舍水的恩惠 一口井是一位与河流保持远距离关系的女人 爱上了雨，嫁给了水泵 她的心努力追随着天空中的风筝 The anatomy of a well A well is always lying naked out in the open stretched wide under the sun her skin packed with alluvial soil concentric rings, bricks a carousel of wet dreams going round and round a tongue of rope which hangs like a martyr. A well is waiting for a woman’s tired hands to draw her into her wet saree where the pots kiss her naked waist and water splashes her navel now and then her eyes close to the gossip of women folk Her fingers learning to draw reflection of clouds, trees, birds and leaning people Her veins and arteries are secret passages to an underground water way, At night she is a cradle for the moon, singing lullaby to the dry mouth of dusk She is waiting for a boat, for women with oily hair who will bend over their brown breasts hanging down asking for alms of water A well is a woman in a long distance relationship with the river, in love with rain, married to the pump and her heart is trying to keep up with the kites in the sky 我是 或许我是半途而止的对话 是晨光与窗台之间的阴影 是吞没广阔森林的呼吸 是空荡码头的荒凉景象 是一整颗橙子 我可能是菩提树的唾液 是两只眼睛交流的声音 是你肌肤的国度 是游走四方的奇迹，或是一个吻的低语 是时间与遗忘之间的距离 或许我是湿润土壤的记忆 是破碎玻璃的惊叹 是豌豆荚里的黑暗，或是井中的寂静 是你遗忘之海 也是我来来去去的浪潮 I AM Perhaps I am a conversation halted mid-way or the shadow between morning light and the windowsill, A breath swallowing vast woodlands, a barren sight of empty dockyards a whole orange. I maybe the saliva of a Peepal tree, the sound of two conversing eyes, the country of your skin, a footloose miracle or the rumble of a kiss, the distance between time and forgetfulness Perhaps I am a memory of wet soil, the gasp of shattering glass, the darkness in a pea pod or the silence of a well The ocean in which you forget things and the waves in which I come and go. 加沙 在你下一顿饭前 我会失去一只耳朵，一些肋骨 或者我的肝脏会流血 直到它化为瓦砾的一部分 成了邻居阿赞的碎片 姐姐扭曲的骨盆 姑姑的噩梦 都与我那颗将从小小的眼窝中 弹出的眼睛一起被埋葬 我只请求 留我一只眼睛，一只眼睛就够了 足以让我望进 那个轰炸我家的士兵的眼中 我想问他 你们国家的孩子 死后也会变成诗篇吗？ 他们会变成 每个人的嘴唇上被禁止的词语吗？ 是否有一天，连低声说“加沙，你将自由”都不允许？ 当你炸毁我家时 请至少留下我母亲的一根手指 一根手指，足够她 收拾散落的玩具 以及我的腿的碎片 并疯狂地寻找我父亲的 肺，肺在叫喊着我们的名字 至少留我父亲一只肺吧 因为他梦想有一天 能像其他人一样去上班 呼吸自由的空气 请给我小弟弟留一只小小的脚， 当他学会走路时 他会走遍这片被鲜血浸透的土地 以至于明天每条河流 每片海洋都会成为废墟 你的沉默 将永远在这里回响 Gaza Soon before your next meal I will lose an ear, some ribs Or my liver will bleed Till it becomes a part of The rubble, a part of my neighbor’s Azzan, sister's mangled pelvis My aunt's nightmares All buried with my eye That will pop from a tiny socket All I ask is Spare me one eye, one eye is All I need to look into the eyes Of the soldier who bombed My home and I want to ask him Do children in your country Too turn into poems when They die? Do they become Words that will be banned From every lip of every human From whispering Gaza, you will be free ever? When you bomb my home Just spare my mother's One finger, one finger Is all she needs to Tidy my toys strewn around With pieces of my legs and look Frantically for her husband's Lungs, lungs screaming our names Just spare my father one lung at least For he dreams of someday Going to work like everyone else And breath freedom Please spare one tiny foot for My little brother when He learns to walk, Then he will walk All over this land that is soaked So much in blood that Tomorrow every river Every sea will be a ruin Where your silence will echo Forever. 夜晚 我喜欢我的夜晚被阳光灼烧， 未曾发育，崭新初生， 或许少了些少年诗句和回忆。 我喜欢我的夜晚变成迅速缩小的方块， 一个名字的拼图， 寂静的风景， 康乃馨的风， 一丝口误， 一公文包的气味， 你眼中的黄昏。 我喜欢我的夜晚成为你的舌尖， 能将一个吻卷入床垫， 让我闭上眼睛，聆听你的动词。 我喜欢我的夜晚只是一个普通的夜晚， 在其中你的叹息 来来去去， 而清晨 退入月亮之中 NIGHT I like my nights sun burnt, Underdeveloped and nascent, Perhaps a little low on Juvenile poetry and memories, I like my nights to be rapidly Narrowing squares, A jigsaw of names, Landscape of silence, Winds of carnations, A slip of tongue, A briefcase full of smells An evening in your eyes. I like my nights to be your tongue That can roll a kiss into a mattress And let me close my eyes to your verbs I like my nights just to be a night Ordinary In which your sighs Comes and goes And the morning Retreats into the moon 影子 黄昏时分， 我决定用一个影子 来替代我，因为 雨水从未浸湿影子 黄昏也不会让它变得褐色 夜晚吞噬它 就像它从未存在过， 就像我从未存在过 如果你想学会 消失的艺术，那么就去拥抱 一个影子 影子不会像我那样嫉妒树木 或是谦卑的小种子 它不会将水洼带回家 作为纪念品，用言语窒息它们 它不会想象每天都有一个家 可以回去，能写情书、喝茶 它只会静静地坐在窗边 试图成为别人 Shadow Its evening When I decide a shadow Is perfect to replace me because The rain never soaks a shadow Nor does the dusk brown it And the night swallows it Like it was never there, Like I was never there. If you want to learn the art Of disappearance then adopt A shadow A Shadow will not envy trees Or a modest winged seed like I do, It will not bring home puddles as Souvenirs and strangle them with words, It will not imagine that there is a home To return to everyday where it can Write love letters and sip tea, It will just sit by the window quietly Trying to be someone else. <h5>西尔维·玛丽（Sylvie Marie）, 比利时作家、诗人。她出版了七部诗集，于2013年出版散文《X选手，2021年推出新书《一切都坠落》。其诗歌被翻译成多种语言传播，她喜欢在舞台上朗读，与观众互动，并在阁楼、地窖、城堡、马厩、船只、岛屿、摇滚音乐节的舞台以及私密酒店房间内表演。2017年，她获得了比利时东佛兰德省文学奖。玛丽在根特的艺术学院教授写作课程，并担任佛兰德文学杂志《机遇女神》编辑。</h5> 无题（一） 我们可以坐进 一只咖啡杯里。 你知道的， 一只老式的杯子， 带有斜斜的杯壁， 这样我们可以滑向彼此。 不是马克杯，不是那种 不是一个 带平底的大圆筒 而是那些精致的小杯子 饱满可爱的 也许我们应该 投资这个： 把所有的房间都变成杯子 <div>1 untitled</div><div> </div>we could sit down in a coffee cup. you know, an old-fashioned one, with slanting walls, so we can slide towards each other. not a mug, not that. not a big cylinder with a flat bottom but one of those dainty ones, plump. perhaps we should invest in that: turn all the rooms into cups 有时候 有时候我想让你死去，亲爱的 不是说我真的想让你死去，而是 偶尔我想 抱着你的身体 你的手垂着 无力地荡着，舌头伸出来 想象我拖着你走了多年，直到 眼睛和肉体腐烂，你脱落的 皮肤留下一条痕迹 仿佛指向回去的路 尽管那条路永远不会再走 最后只剩下骨架 骨头、关节和 其他碎屑 而你被随意地挂在我肩上 像一件轻薄的夏季外套 我的小指穿进衣环里 sometimes sometimes i want you dead, sweetheart, not that i want you dead but occasionally i’d like to carry your body while your hand is dangling down limp and your tongue sticking out. imagine me lugging you for years until eye and flesh decay, your flaking skin leaving a trail as if pointing the way back though that road will never be taken. in the end only the skeleton with bones, joints and other crumbs would remain, while you’re flung across my shoulder like a light summer jacket, my little finger in the loop 无题（二） 很久以前，不想再做一条鱼 我奋力跃出水面，长出了双腿 换掉鳞片成了皮肤，开始用 一对肺呼吸 如今我站在陆地的岸边 凝望大海 与波浪协商是否还能回归 我想知道那会是什么样子： 双腿消失，皮肤长出鳞片 呼吸重新变成那种抽搐般的喘息 那神圣的抽搐般的喘息，多么神圣 如果海不会张开泡沫的嘴迎接我 它就不成其为海 果然 我开始急促地喘息。 2 untitled once upon a time, not wanting to be a fish any more, i thrust myself out of the water, got legs, swapped scales for skin and began to breathe through a pair of lungs. now i gaze at the sea from the shores of the land, negotiating with the waves whether a return is possible. i want to know what that would be like: legs that disappear, skin growing scales and breathing turned back to gasping, that spasmodic gasping, how divine. the sea wouldn’t be the sea if it didn’t foam at the mouth to welcome me. and indeed, i gasped for air. 无题（三） 我早该知道：不适合建造的沙子 也不适合用来掩埋。比如说 要埋你，需要多少层？我把你埋下 大声哭喊告别，一遍又一遍地埋你 可是这里的山在游走，变成丘陵、 平原、山谷、平原，接着又是丘陵和远方的山脉 我试着把你藏起来，但你不停地唱着 从土里钻出来，吹响你的双唇 你的沙粒再次扑打在我脸上 <div>3 untitled</div><div> </div>i shou ld have known: sand that isn’t fit for building on is no good for burial either. for instance, how many layers are needed for you? i bury you cry farewell loudly and bury you and bury you but the mountains walk about here, become hills, plains, valleys, plains, hills and mountains again, further on. i have tried to hide you, but you keep singing your way back up, whistle your lips free and your grains hit me in the face again. 愿望 又是一个清晨，声音 沉入我心，仿佛一只手随意 从桶中抓出它们。它们浮现时纯真而意外 就像你一样 每次睁眼前，总是以不同的方式 抿紧嘴唇，眼角还带着露珠 拉起床单盖过我们的头 仿佛我们是雪，仿佛 太阳不该找到我们 wish let it be a morning once again in which sounds sink into me as if a hand had randomly grabbed them from a barrel. innocent and surprising as they surface, just like you who always clench your lips in a different way before opening your eyes and with the dew still in your corners pull the sheets over our heads, almost as if we are snow, as if the sun mustn’t find us. <div>无题（四）</div><div> </div>在一个女人的屋子里 地上躺着一只翅膀 那边又有一只 女人瞥了它们一眼 双臂交叉， 轻轻哼了几声 慢慢弯下腰 从地板上拾起翅膀 “这到底是什么？”她说 她戴上翅膀， 然后走向 窗户 <div>4 untitled</div><div> </div>in the house of a woman a wing lies on the ground and there another one the woman peeks at it, her arms folded she utters a few hmms slowly bends down and picks the wings off the floor. what is this in heaven’s name she says she puts on the wings then walks to the window <div>无题（五）</div><div> </div>有时候通过谷歌地图 我想要 看看我们前生的街道 放大 看看我们曾经的模样 从鸟瞰的视角了解 我们的街道、邻里、区域 是如何相连的 然后再拉近一些 一直到沥青上 把淡绿色的谷歌地图小人拖到终点 看看一切是如何被毁坏的 有时我差点就这么做了，我让那小人悬在 地图上，看着街道亮起蓝色，准备好 进入街景模式，只要松开手指 我就回去了 但接着我想象到那些人 躺在草地上凝望 蓝天 凝望着我 我便畏缩，转身离开 跑到街上 抬头仰望 你 <h5>5 untitled sometimes via Google Maps i want to take a look in the streets of our previous life zoom in on how we used to be from a bird’s perspective learn how our streets, neighbourhoods, districts were connected and then get in even closer right down to the asphalt, drag the pale-green Google Maps man to the end of the line to see how everything got ruined. Sometimes i almost do that, i let the figure dangle over the map and i see the streets light up blue, ready for Street View, all that is left to do is let go of my finger and i’m back. But then i picture the people lying in the grass there gazing at the blue sky at me and i recoil and turn away run outside, onto the street, and i myself gaze up at you. </h5> <div>无题(六)</div><div> </div>起身吧 这一天是给你的 它不会重来 好好看看它 在你小心折叠的手中珍惜它 不，不如牢牢抓住它 拥抱它 但千万别把它藏在枕头下 否则你会忘了它曾在那里 完整地度过它 这夜晚也是给你的 躺下 <h5><div>6 untitled</div><div> </div>get up Here is a day for you. it won’t come back Take a good look at it. cherish it in your carefully folded hands No, hang onto it tightly embrace it but never hide it under your pillow or you may forget it was there live it entirely Here is a Night for you Lie down</h5> <h3>无题（七） 雪，是你吗？ 是的，我是雪 那么，你是每一片雪花吗？ 是的，每一片雪花 如果雪花融化了呢？ 那么，我就是融化的雪花 如果它们蒸发了呢？ 那么，我就是蒸发的雪花 如果它们被烧毁了呢？ 那么，我就是被烧毁的雪花 如果它们被碾碎了呢？ 那么，我就是每一片被碾碎的雪花 那你就不再是雪了 不，我依然是雪，我是消逝的雪 永远消逝的雪</h3><h5> </h5> <h5>7 untitled snow, is that you? yes, i am the snow are you then every snowflake? yes, every snowflake and what if the snowflakes melt? then i am melted snowflakes and what if they evaporate? then i am evaporated snowflakes and what if they burn? then i am burnt snowflakes and what if they are crushed? then i am every snowflake, crushed but then you are no longer snow yes i am, i am then vanished snow, for ever vanished snow</h5>