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This pocket-sized paperback is one of the twenty-four titles published for 2017 Hong Kong International Poetry Nights. The theme of IPHHK2017 is “Ancient Enmity”. IPNHK is one of the most influential international poetry events in Asia. From 22–26 November 2017, over 20 invited poets from various countries will be in Hong Kong to read their works based on the theme “Ancient Enmity.” Included in the anthology and box set, these unique works are presented with Chinese and English translations in bilingual or trilingual formats.

作者简介

约翰．伯恩塞John Burnside

　　约翰．伯恩塞（英国），圣安德鲁斯大学创意写作教授，苏格兰重要的当代作家，着有多本诗集、小说集和回忆录。他的第一本诗集The Hoop（1988）获苏格兰艺术委员会书奖，Feast Days（1992）获Geoffrey Faber纪念奖，The Asylum Dance（2000）获Whitbread诗歌奖。2012年凭诗集Black Cat Bone获T.S. Eliot诗歌奖和Forward年度诗集奖。2017年发表小说Ashland & Vine及诗集Still Life with Feeding Snake。

　　(UK 英国)

　　John Burnside is Professor in Creative Writing at St Andrews University. His prizewinning poetry collections include The Hoop (1988), winner of Sccottish Arts Council Book Award, Feast Days (1992), winner of the Geoffrey Faber Memorial Prize, and The Asylum Dance (2000), winner of the Whitbread Poetry Award. His Black Cat Bone won both the Forward Poetry Prize (Best Poetry Collection of the Year) and the T.S. Eliot prizes in 2012. His most recent novel, Ashland & Vine (Jonathan Cape, 2017) was published alongside a new collection of poetry, Still Life with Feeding Snake, in February 2017.
 

哀悼随笔（节录）
给卢卡斯

I. 关于为黑色虎斑小猫爱思掘坟慕，
2016年10月

「『苦──苦』，他回答；
『但我喜欢
因为苦，
而且因为这是我的心。』」
──史提芬，葛伦

晴朗的一天，一年裹的这个时节，
阳光在树篱上，一只孤独的
雀鹰在小牧场上。
要挖掘这片土地很艰难，随后越来越难：
六英寸探，我要回去取锄

从泥土中撬开较大的石头；
然后，摊开放好用毯子织造的裹尸布
我们在无言中完成工作，仅仅
停下一两次
估算深度，喘口气。

无话要说，你捏碎一把壤土，
让它在你手中变暖，
把它撒落在我们一起用湿冷黑暗的碎土
瞎造起来的坟墓，
过了一会，我跟着，尊重沉默。

无话要说，但在我的脑海深处，
记起一则旧广告的声音，
每一首歌的新耶路撒冷
母亲都让我随之起舞
粉红色纸屑在我的恤衫上
最新相识的女子

是我臂弯裹的嵌合亮片──毫无
道理，但恰好足够
抵触那个五十年代的故事
关于她的婚纱上的
薰衣草和石脑油，她袖子的空洞

比我末曾见过的新娘更像鬼魅。

An Essay on Mourning（excerpt）
for Lucas

I On Digging a grave for Oxy,
A black tabby kitten, October 2016

“It is bitter - bitter,” he answered;
“But I like it
Because it is bitter,
And because it is my heart.”
──Stephen Crane

A fair day, for this time of year,
sun on the hedge trees, a lone
sparrow-hawk over the paddock.
Digging on this ground is hard, and then it gets harder:
six inches down, I have to go back for a pick

to prise the larger stones out of the clay;
and then, with the blanket-weave shroud laid out in the open,
we finish the job in silence, only

stopping once or twice
to estimate the depth and catch our breath.

With nothing to say, you crumble a fistful of loam
so it warms in your hands,
and sprinkle the grave we’ve contrived
with the raw, dark crumbs;
and, after a moment, I follow, respecting the silence.

Nothing to say, but far at the back of my head,
a voice from an old commercial, calling to mind
the New Jerusalem of every song
my mother made me dance to, pink
confetti on my shirt, the latest girl

None

哀悼随笔 电子书 下载 mobi epub pdf txt 2024

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