诗人曰：圣杯何处安息？

海外文苑

美国纽约【综合新闻】803期

主编：佩英

总编：程朗

总顾问：马华胜

本期翻译：佩英（Translated by Christine Chen)

伊西尔达·努内斯（Isilda Nunes）

葡萄牙艺术家、作家和诗人，巴塞罗那哲学、文学、艺术与人文学荣誉博士。其作品收录于五十个国家的选集、杂志和报纸，并被翻译成四十多种语言。她是百余部国内外选集的联合作者。她担任多个国家与国际文化组织的领导职位，包括世界作家联合会（UMEA）创始人兼副主席、现代皮提亚运动会语言、文学与演讲艺术委员会主席、国际作家与艺术家协会（CIESART）主席顾问及葡萄牙分会主席、世界诗歌运动（WPM）欧洲协调员。

窗之外是夜

窗外是夜晚，月光
被打断的寂静，不时被撕裂
外面，河水载着乌托邦
乘着记忆之船
也许风会改变方向
此刻，
只有幽灵
影子，灰烬，我们的残片
痛苦中诞生出来的词语
窗外是夜晚，月光
露珠
诗歌的怀抱

BEYOND THE WINDOW THERE IS THE NIGHT
Beyond the window there is the night. The light of the moon.
The interrupted silence. Torn from time to time.
Outside, the river carries utopia
on the barge of memories.
Perhaps the wind will change direction.
Here,
Only spectres.
Shadows. Ashes. Scraps of us.
Words born. In pain.
Beyond the window there is the night. The light of the moon.

Dewdrops. The poem’s lap.

终点

岸边溢满了不确定季节的沉寂
再无*珀尔塞福涅的劫持，也无*赛姬的迷醉
没有飞鸟描绘天空
也没有火炬点亮夜晚
没有激情，没有低语，没有炽热
你的手：令我们彼此荒芜，向命运示意
欲望褪色，在丝绸床单的编织中
褪色在你唇间悬挂的告别里
乌鸦在时间的缝隙中
预兆着寒霜
我再未见你眼中盐田的闪光
也未见你怀中的大海
缓慢柔板奏响的奏鸣曲
在双人舞中挣扎
在雕琢的缺席里
空洞的凝视
宣告了判决
天鹅在舞台上
悄然陨落

*译者注：
珀尔塞福涅（Persephone）珀尔塞福涅是希腊神话中的冥后，常被视为生与死、黑暗与重生的象征。
赛姬（Psyche）希腊语中意为“灵魂”，她的故事象征灵魂的净化、追求和与真爱合一的过程。

THE END OF THE LINE
The shore overflows the silence of the season of uncertainty.
There is no more Persephone's abduction or Psyche's enchantment.
There are no birds to draw the sky,
nor torches to light the night.
There is no passion, no whisper or ardour.
Your hand, barren of us, beckons fate.
Desire knitted in silken sheets,
fades in the farewell suspended from your lips.
The crows augur frost
in the line of time.
I saw no more the saltpans of your eyes,
nor the sea of your lap.
The sonata in Adagio Sostenutto
agonises in pas de deux.
In lapidated absence,
the vacant gaze
dictates the verdict.
The swan succumbs on the stage.

圣杯何处安息？

真理的灵药又在何处飘荡？

我匆匆攀登
雅各的天梯，
在那涌动的渴望中奔向北方，
困惑已然侵袭了我。
巴别塔倒卧于昏暗的洞穴，
原则颠覆，
不公的沼泽蔓延。
我是一个梦中求变的半人马，
渴望飞越凡俗的小径。
从宇宙图书馆中，
汲取古老的哲思
与智慧的鸡尾酒。
成神，
如一只穿越时间的苍鹰，
一展羽翼，划破天际，
在*德维尔（Devir）的微光中，

穿越所有的苍穹。

*译者注：

德维尔（Devir）在葡萄牙语中通常意为 “成为” 或 “存在”，具有一种哲学或神秘主义色彩，代表潜在的变化、存在的本质或事物发展的过程。在诗歌和文学语境中，它常被用来表达对超越、演变或存在意义的追寻。

WHERE DOES THE HOLY GRAIL RESIDE?
WHERE DOES THE ELIXIR OF TRUTH HOVER?

I hurry up
Jacob’s Ladder,
in an effervescent yearning to reach
the North, in the bewilderment that invades me.
Babel lies in a brownish den.
Inversion of principles.
A swamp of injustice.

I’m a centaur who dreams
to transmute.
To fly beyond common walkways.
From the Cosmic Library,
to drink ancient philosophies
and cocktails of wisdom.
To become Divine.
Like an eagle travelling through time
And, in one swoop of the wing, cross the skies,
In glimpses of Devir.

赏析：

葡萄牙女诗人伊西尔达·努内斯（Isilda Nunes）诗歌情感深沉、意境悠远，既有对现实的冷峻反思，也有对灵魂与精神世界的追寻。诗人通过丰富的象征与意象，探讨了生命的脆弱与永恒、存在的痛苦与超越，赋予作品强烈的哲学意味与诗意表达。这种既现实又超越的表达，具有深刻的共鸣力与艺术感染力。诗歌语言风格富有音乐性与节奏感，善用短句与重复来强化主题和情感。诗人把生活沉淀下来，岁月并没有给她的诗带来沧桑感，反而充满睿智与感悟。(佩英）

Editorials：

Portuguese poet Isilda Nunes' poetry is profound and evocative, blending a stark reflection on reality with a search for the soul and spiritual world. Through rich symbolism and imagery, the poet explores the fragility and eternity of life, the pain of existence, and transcendence, imbuing her works with deep philosophical significance and poetic . Her style, both realistic and transcendent, resonates deeply and possesses strong artistic impact. The language is musical and rhythmic, often using short sentences and repetition to reinforce themes and emotions. The poet has distilled life in her work, and though time has passed, her poetry is not marked by weariness but is instead filled with wisdom and insight.(By Christine Chen)

尼加尔·阿里夫（Nigar Arif）

阿塞拜疆90后诗人。毕业于阿塞拜疆国立师范大学英语系，现为阿塞拜疆作家联盟、世界青年土耳其作家联盟、吉尔吉斯斯坦国际作家联盟会员，她曾参加2019年第四届LIFT欧亚文学节、2020年哥伦比亚第30届麦德林国际诗歌节等，文坛后起之秀。

人类的雨

这里是城市
人们四散而去……
这里有雪，有雨
洗刷着他们的足迹……
即使每天清晨阳光照耀
风吹拂着、抚平着什么
但什么都无法抹去
什么也无法改变……
人们浸透在城市的记忆中
来自它坑坑洼洼的面孔
他们带走了自己的色彩
让城市依然苍白
到处都是阴郁
一切都变成灰色的故事
人们从眼中倾泻出雨水
每天每时每刻都在飘落
那些被这座城市深处打湿的人们
无法逃离
人类如倾盆大雨般坠落
救护车如同撑开的雨伞
在病痛的雨滴下穿梭……
无论白天还是夜晚
都在摇晃着，从它们的家中逃离
整个世界从它的轨道上跌落
坠毁……
日复一日，周复一周
街道变得空荡
道路、咖啡馆见证了终结
沉重的商铺肩膀弯曲
即将支撑不住……
城市臂膀间的大楼与小屋
惶恐地窥视着
那赤裸的深渊——
它游荡于村庄，漫步于乡间
孤独的树木感到厌倦
花朵、鸟儿和草地
怀念着人类
来自这座城市尘土飞扬的脚步
谁知道呢？
也许它们用自己的语言
诅咒着这该死的、嘲弄般的隔离
现在我们明白了，妈妈
城市与国家
也会染上疾病……
我还能说什么呢？
别担心
一切都会好起来的
还有希望
沿着城市的发丝延展开来……
还有我们的梦想
把手贴在它的额头
查看它的体温……
也许我们找到了最好的疗法，妈妈
爱，正如你常说的那样
是最好的移植……

Humans' rain

Here is the city,
people break out and leave...
Here are the snows and rains,
washing their footprints...
Even the sun shines in every morning,
Winds blow and sleek
Nothing can remove those ,
Nothing can be changed...
People soak up to its memory
from its pocky face.
They fetch their colors with themselves
keeping the city pale.
Everywhere is dull,
Everything turns to a grey tale.
People rain and rain falls from their eyes
in every single day
And those getting wet in the heart of this city
who can't run away
Humans are raining cats and dogs,
Ambulances revolve like the umbrellas
under the sick drops...
Either the nights or the noons
wobble from their homes.
The whole world tumble from its place
and falls...
Day by day, week by week
Streets become empty
The roads, cafes see the end.
The shoulders of the heavy shops
are going to bend...
The huge buildings, the small houses
between the city's arms
peeping out with fear at the naked depth
that idles in the villages, travels to the countries
Lonely trees are getting bored
The flowers, birds and meadows
from the dusty feet of this city
missing of the man
Who knows?
May be in their own languages
they even rail
this damn, teasing quarantine.
Now we know, mom
Cities and countries
can also catch the diseases...
What can I say?
Don't worry,
everything will be okay.
There are hopes
that draw out till the hair of this city...
There are our dreams putting the hands to its forehead
to check the heat...
May be we found the best treatment, mom,
Love is the best engraftment

as you always said...

风

嘿，风儿，挨家挨户地敲门

你在寻找的，是哪一扇门？
那一扇门，足够你停留吗？
那些炎热夏日里敞开的门
如今都去了哪里？
那些曾爱你的门
曾与你共餐、为你休憩
那些曾喜悦地迎接你
把你当作客人般对待的人
他们如今何在？
嘿，风儿，挨家挨户地敲门
你的爱人们都去了哪里？
如今天气变成了冬天
他们的心也随之冷却了吗？
别敲了，我亲爱的，别敲了
没有人会打开他们的门
没有人会在意你，也不会呼唤你
一切都已结束
如今我问，天寒地冻时
谁还会想念你、呼唤你？
走吧，亲爱的，走吧
在这灰暗而沉寂的街道上徘徊
愤怒地折断那些干枯的树枝
静静等待吧，等冬天变回夏天
你的朋友们，亲爱的风
会随着阳光，再次苏醒生长

The Wind

Hey wind, knocking door to door,
is that one door you're looking for,
is that enough for you?
Where are they now,
those open doors
from the hot, sunny days of summer?
Where are those that loved you,
to dine with and to rest;
who once were pleased to welcome you
and treat you as their guest?
Hey wind, knocking door to door,
where are your lovers now?
Now the weather's turned to winter,
have they turned cold as well?
Don't knock, my dear, don't knock,
no one's opening their door,
no one will look out for you, nor call on you,
no more.
Who, I ask, now the weathers changed,
would call on you at all?
Go dear, go.
Just wander round these dull grey streets
and break dry trees in anger;
just wait as winter turns to summer and your friends,

dear wind, with the sun, will grow again once more.

时钟慢了

看看这世界的时钟
慢了一个小时
是欢乐迟到了
还是生命被悲伤淹没？
即便它笑着、谈着
像一个快乐的老人
世界的笑声蹒跚无力
如同疲惫的过往
他用那充满渴望的手
在乞求或寻找
在台阶上度过每一天
与风抗争
扫帚从清洁工的眼里
扫落了他的夜晚
那双布满老茧的手
唤醒了沉睡的街道
他是车上的司机
愿望里的乘客
带着改变命运的希望
寻找着他的未来
看看这世界的时钟
慢了一个小时
让我们重新拨正它
为了一个比现在更美好的生活

The clock is slow

Look at the world’s clock
It's an hour slow.
Either joy is late,
Or life is drowned by sorrow.

Even if it talks and laughs
like a happy old man.
The world’s laughs are lame
as the tired past.

He’s begging or seeking
with a wishful hand.
And spends the days on steps
Fighting against the wind.

Out of the sweeper’s eyes
Falling his nights.
The broom in the calloused hands
wakes up the sleepy streets.

He is a driver on the bus
Passenger in the wishes,
Looking for his fate
With the hope to change.

Look at the world's clock
It 's an hour slow.
Let’s set up it anew,
For a better life than now.

赏析：

阿瑟拜疆女诗人诗人尼加尔·阿里夫（Nigar Arif）善于捕捉自然与人类生活中的细微之处，用风、雨、时间等自然意象作为载体，表达对现实的反思与对未来的期待。语言简洁而富有韵律，有孩童般口语的纯真，清新活泼，情感真挚且具有普世共鸣的力量。诗歌在冷峻的现实描写中，始终蕴含着希望的光辉，体现了诗人深厚的人文关怀与艺术修养。其诗充满年轻一代的希望，同时展现了这一代年轻人对现实与人生的深刻洞察与觉醒，构建了一个充满忧郁、反思与希望的世界。（佩英）

Editorials：

Azerbaijani poet Nigar Arif excels at capturing the subtle details of nature and human life, using natural imagery such as wind, rain, and time as vehicles to express reflections on reality and hopes for the future. Her language is simple yet rhythmic, with a childlike innocence in its spoken tone, fresh and lively, and deeply sincere with universal resonance. Even amidst the bleak depictions of reality, her poetry always carries a gleam of hope, reflecting her profound humanistic care and artistic cultivation. Her work is filled with the hopes of the younger generation, showing their deep insights and awakening regarding reality and life, creating a world of melancholy, reflection, and hope.

埃莉·弗雷吉杜（Elli Freggidou）

希腊作家、诗人，获亚里士多德大学心理学学位，并在希腊和英国继续攻读研究生学位。她共出版了四部诗集，其中与著名出版社Kedros的合作是她诗歌创作道路上的重要里程碑，她在该出版社出版了诗集《通往光明的权利》和《四分之一的停顿》。她对故乡的热爱促使她创作了一部献给故乡的诗集，题为《基尔基斯，我尘世的城市》。2017年，她在马其顿艺术协会TECHNI基尔基斯主办的泛希腊诗歌比赛“埃夫洛波斯的库洛斯”中荣获一等奖，后成为该诗歌比赛评审团成员。

园丁

你成了我的园丁
穿着你的凉鞋
带着玫瑰的刺
你把系带
系在那宽大的园艺长裤上
戴上那顶草帽
帽檐圆圆地遮出阴影
你把手
——随意地——伸进种子的袋子里
虔诚地触摸着
那片不羁的土地
触摸着人类
对丰收的渴望。
就在今天早晨

你成了我的园丁

*致克拉伦·古斯

Gardner*

you became my gardner
with your sandals
and the thorns of your roses
You put straps
on the wide gardens trousers
The straw hat
with its round shaped shade
You put your palm
- randomly - into the bag of seeds
You touched reverently
upon the unruly earth
the human need
for fertility.


And you became
– at once this morning -
my gardner

*To Klaren Guus

行李箱

沉重——太沉重了
你会说，难以承受
母亲被锁在其中，
拉扯着我，几乎拽住我的衣袖。
在另一个隔层里，
孩子们的声音，
他们迟到的
早晨醒来时的喧闹。
笑声、欢乐，
那些深夜的美好。
再往里，是“他”，
曾经与我共存于
同一个行李箱里的人。
而如今，我身处别处，
在那把钥匙的小小锁孔旁。
在那里，靠近行李标签，
若没有它，
我永远也无法
画下那个句号。
而我，
——唯有我——
拥有属于自己的名字，
献给岁月的礼物：
“永不再来。”

The Suitcase

Heavy—so very heavy
Unbearable, you'd say
Inside, my mother locked away
Pulling me, almost by the sleeve.

In the other compartment
the children
The voices
from their delayed
morning wake-up.

The laughter, the joys,
the late nights.

Further along, him,
who once fit with me
in the same suitcase.

Now, I find myself
in another place,
in that small slit
for the keys.

There, close to the luggage tag,
without which
I'd never manage
to put down
the full stop.

I,
—only I—
with a name of my own,
a gift to the ages:

"Never again."

*基尔基斯

每条小巷都是一段多彩的记忆
街道充满着涌动的情感
我朴实的大地之城
在我无声的日子里，我渴望你
渴望我的双眼充满光明
渴望北风将我拥抱
若我曾责备你灰暗的色彩
并非因我小觑了你
而是因我在对你的爱中寻求答案
基尔基斯
一座未被歌颂的城市
而你却慷慨地赐予我
声音与面庞，让我满怀期待
你小心地守护着我缺失的碎片
在我的生命中

你总会归来

*译者注：希腊基尔基斯为作者故乡。

Kilkis

each alley a colored memory,
streets brimming with rising emotions.

My earthy city,

in my soundless days, I long for you
for my eyes to fill with light,
for the northern wind to embrace me.

And if I ever blame your murky colors,
it’s not because I sell you short,
but because I seek in my love for you the answer.

Kilkis,

a city unsung,
yet you have generously given me
sounds and faces to look forward to.

You carefully guard the missing pieces of me,
and in my life,
you always return.

赏析：

希腊女诗人埃莉·弗雷吉杜（Elli Freggidou）的诗歌艺术性与情感表达并重，既有细腻的抒情风格，又具备象征性的深刻主题。她通过精准的语言和富有哲思的意象，描绘人生旅程中的爱、记忆与归属感，形成了一种忧郁而充满希望的诗意世界。她的作品不仅记录了个人生命的点滴，更赋予这些经历以普遍的意义，使其成为读者心灵的共鸣之声。埃莉的诗歌在结构上注重情感的递进与起伏，巧妙地运用换行与停顿来塑造节奏感。【园丁】把从常见的狭意爱情升华到自然的广袤之中，真挚又充满生命力。（佩英）

Editorials：

Greek poet Elli Freggidou's poetry balances artistry with emotional expression, combining delicate lyricism with symbolic depth. Through precise language and thought-provoking imagery, she portrays love, memory, and a sense of belonging in life's journey, forming a melancholic yet hopeful poetic world. Her work not only records the moments of personal life but also imbues these experiences with universal meaning, making them resonate with readers' hearts. Elli’s poetry pays attention to the emotional progression and fluctuation of themes, skilfully using line breaks and pauses to shape rhythm. The Gardener elevates the narrow concept of love into the vastness of nature, sincere and full of vitality.（By Christine Chen）

海伦·贾维斯（Helen Jarvis）

英国诗人，移居澳大利亚20载，在墨尔本教授高中英语。她拥有利兹大学的文学学位，以及墨尔本皇家墨尔本理工大学（RMIT）专业写作与编辑文凭。海伦曾获得尼伦比克诗歌绘画奖（Nillumbik Poetry Ekphrasis Award）和艾达·剑桥诗歌与传记散文奖（Ada Cambridge Awards for Poetry and Biographical Prose），并入围了多项澳大利亚奖项，最近在格温·哈伍德诗歌奖（Gwen Harwood Poetry Prize）获亚军。她目前正在完成自己首本诗集，计划于2025年初出版。

失去蜜蜂

蜜蜂倒在背上，努力向沙子深处挣扎
它潮湿，翅膀已经磨损，折叠着；粘在一起，轻微颤动
我找到一颗小石子——小小的蜜蜂方舟——
小心翼翼地翻转蜜蜂，把它移到干燥的草丛中
它抖落翅膀上的石子
我母亲从不喜欢与蜜蜂分享她的花园
它们潜伏在风干的床单下。她总是把它们收进来
它们失去视力，用自杀般的毒液蜇伤她的手
我父亲毫发无损。在小屋里
我站在台阶上探头去看他抬起沉重的盖子
那疯狂的嗡嗡声响起
透过窗玻璃听得见，蜜蜂四散飞舞
围绕着我遮面的父亲
他喷洒烟雾来安抚蜂群
举起木框，里面甜美的蜂蜡巢室
布满了蜂蜜，像倒转的高迪尖塔
冬天，雪。死亡轻轻地降临蜂巢
我们醒来时空气潮湿，寒冷的呼吸涌入
干脆的雪把猴面包树的枝条压弯
覆盖了草地，留下微弱的鸟踪
一切洁净未曾打扰，还未融化成泥
雪摧毁了它们。我的父亲没有意识到危险
他打开冰冷的盖子，发现蜜蜂们安静地堆积
细小的昆虫尸体散落一地
雪像堵住门口的致命阀门
那种愧疚；脆弱翅膀静止的恐惧
我们明白那份风险。不可思议，那些
最后的时光：蜂群震耳欲聋的喧嚣
在蜂巢中蔓延的迟缓
集体的沉默
灭绝的寒冷，从金色到黑色

Losing the bees

Tipped on its back, the bee waggles itself further
into sand. It is damp, its frayed wings folded; gummed
back, they quiver. I find a pebble—small apian ark—
turn the bee gingerly, move it to dry tussock grass.
It shakes the clogging shingle from its wings.

My mother never liked to share her garden with the bees.
They lurked in the flap of wind-dried sheets. She’d gather
them in. Blinded, they’d sting her hands with
kamikaze venom. My father was unscathed. In the shed,
propped on a step, I’d crane to see him raise the heavy lid.

Maddened, that great thrum of busyness would rise,
audible through the pane. Bees scattered, skirled around
my veiled father. Squirting smoke to gentle the mob,
he’d lift the wooden frames, their sweet waxen cells
crusted with honey like upturned Gaudi spires.

Winter, and snow. Death fell softly on the hive.
We woke to wet air, cold inward breaths. Crisp
snow frayed the branches of the monkey puzzle*,
a good inch of it coating the grass, bearing faint tracks of birds,
all clean and undisturbed and not yet turned to slush.

Snow did for them. My father hadn’t learnt the threat,
lifted the chilly lid to find their still, furred bodies
piled, tiny insect corpses littering the floor,
the snow a lethal spigot plugging up the door.
The guilt; horror of frail wings stilled.

We understand the risk. Unthinkable, those
last times: panic of massed din rising,
a crawling lethargy in the hive,
collective slump into silence,
chill of extinction, from gold to black.

西澳洲埃斯珀朗斯的新年

这里，我们在风暴的怀抱中。风爪抓住了拉绳，雨水拍打着我们的帐篷
雷声轰鸣在我耳边，乌云向我们投掷活电线，我本该仰起喉咙，随着群体的喧嚣嚎叫
但有你，安静的孩子，你的雀斑在闪电下洗净
我调节着呼吸，倾听你稳定的呼吸
我在紧闭的牙齿之间呼吸
十年了，自那场风暴的夜晚：
我背弯，腹部紧绷，你的阵痛
一阵接一阵袭来；那长长的低吟
在我的脊柱中回荡，眼前是荧光灯
在他们切割、拉扯、缝合
擦拭后，你被交还给我——小小的
小鼠般，崭新，张开嘴，哇哇大哭
终于，喧嚣渐渐平息；雷声
在四周咕哝消散。闪电消退
化作瞬间的云母闪光。我吸入
湿润的花岗岩山脉的咸湿气息
见证着早晨的天空——疲惫
乳白色——我们新的一年，裂开了

New Year in Esperance, Western Australia


Here we’re in a dish of storm. Wind claws
at guyropes as rain beats at the skin of our tent.

Thunder batters my ears and clouds hurl
live wires at us, and I would lift

my throat and bay with the clamour of the pack
but for you, placid child, your freckles rinsed

by lightning. I tune in to your steady
breaths; I breathe through clenched teeth.

Ten years since that other night of storm:

my back arched, my belly taut, your birthpangs
gusting through me hour on hour; the long low

groaning in my spine, fluorescents
in my eyes as they sliced and tugged and stitched,

wiped and handed you back to me—little
mouse, brand new, mouth wide, wailing.

Here at last the din is easing; thunder

grumbles out around. Flashes subside
into quick mica glints. I inhale

the salty damp of wet granite ranges
and bear witness to the morning sky—spent,

milk-white—of our new year, cracked open.

归来

像云朵缓慢地穿过 这些麦田，像空气中 掠过泥滩的咸味
我认识这个地方—— 像孩子一样从脚底到身体的认识—— 用棍子戳进
软化的柏油线，路面 在出汗；用手指穿过长草， 辨别哪些种子头
在拇指和食指之间会轻轻剥离， 哪些会抵抗 并聚集成团。我现在是个过客
知道并不等于属于。我把 自己像飞盘一样投向外面， 转弯并坠落。我女儿
问她属于哪里，我 无法回答。我回到了 这片种子头和篱笆的文化中
回到那些枝条间的空隙， 我未能给她的，它像小虫的嗡嗡声 居住在我体内
像荨麻或 锦葵的纠结一样司空见惯， 像狗尾草一样紧贴， 或湿叶的气味

Return

As slowly as clouds roll across
these wheatfields, as salt as the air
that skims this mudflat country,

I know this place—know it the way
a child knows, from the ground up, and
bodily—poking a stick into

softened tar lines as the road surface
sweats; running my fingers through long
grass, divining which seed heads

will peel off sweetly between thumb
and forefinger, which will resist
and clump. I’m a visitor now;

to know is not to belong. I’ve slung
myself like a frisbee outwards,
to swerve and fall. My daughter

asks where she belongs and I
cannot say. I come back to this
culture of seed-head and hedgerow

and the gaps between branches, that
I’ve failed to give her, that inhabits
me like the hum of small bugs,

as commonplace as nettles or
tangles of mallow, as clinging
as goosegrass, or the scent of damp leaves.

赏析：

英裔澳大利亚诗人海伦·贾维斯（Helen Jarvis）诗歌在语言运用上都充满诗意，通过具体的自然意象与情感的联系，传达了对生命、家庭、自然和身份的深刻思考。它们不仅展现了作者细腻的观察力和丰富的情感世界，还通过对比与象征，唤起了对环境变化、人类行为和家庭纽带的强烈感知。每一首诗都是对生命某个特定时刻的凝视，传达着不同层面的内心世界，展示了诗人在自然、家庭、时间与身份之间的关系。 （佩英）

Editorials：

Helen Jarvis, an English-Australian poet, uses poetic language to connect natural imagery with emotional depth, conveying deep reflections on life, family, nature, and identity. Her works not only display her delicate observation and rich emotional world but also evoke strong perceptions of environmental changes, human behaviour, and familial bonds through contrast and symbolism. Each poem is a gaze at a specific moment in life, conveying various layers of the inner world, showcasing the poet's relationship between nature, family, time, and identity.（By Christine Chen）

(注：所有文字作品均获作者授权）