作者简介：秦风，本名蒲建雄，文学博士。中国诗歌学会会员，四川省作家协会会员。曾获首届全球汉语诗歌大赛主奖、首届天府文学作品奖、苏东坡文学奖、李煜文学奖、上海市民诗歌节诗歌奖、意大利梅莱托国际诗歌奖、悉尼国际诗歌节诗人奖。应邀参加第27届（印度）世界诗人大会，著有诗集《独步苍茫》。

About the author: QIN Feng, real name PU Jianxiong, male, Doctor of Literature. Member of Chinese Poetry Society, member of Sichuan Writers Association. He has won the first Global Chinese Poetry Prize, the first Tianfu Literature Prize, the Great Wall Literature Prize, the Su Dongpo Literature Prize, and the ten Best anti-epidemic poetry prizes in China. His literary works have published on literature journals and albums home and abroad. He is the author the poetry anthology "Stepping on the Horizon".

秦风自选诗十首（中英双语）

芒城遗址

“漏风的遗址，四周吹拂神的耳语，

犹如失声的歌唱，将自己遗忘与想象。”

时间是一种海拔，四千年的芒城遗址

自古蜀国的内心瘫塌。向下或者向内

成为一种高度，陷入岁月的深度之中

八百里青城群峰，远望于一种旁观或佐证

在时光的斜坡上，万物一次次掩埋于

自己的引力与重力

风雨雷电，隐身于善的暴力

一次次将自己撕开

裂心的痛，是抵达自己唯一的路

将自己解剖开，荒芜怀抱一种存在

仿佛独自站在时光暗处的漠视

凭吊一个人的流失，与一个部落的消失

空旷的我，是这遗址其中的碎片

成为古蜀先民的死守的一种证据

为山河证明，为时光证伪

从北自营盘山而来，向南往宝墩而去

青城山芒城遗址之下

古蜀国的意志已经碳化

部落与光阴的面孔，熄灭于城墙

先祖的肉体空握着一根耻骨

一些石块，退守于城墙的一隅

伫立于自己的硬度与光芒之上

光芒的石块，是沉陷大地的王

先祖与部落，把自己砍伐成石器

在苦难之中，尖锐是唯一的活

几千年后这种尖锐生长成铁

连同今夜的星辰月光，降临我身上

苍茫大地上，粮食反复死去

而这地下不灭的刀耕火种

如同灰烬、信仰与种子

睁着洞穴之眼的腐烂者

向着自己与未来

“生命将不断把草叶砸进土里。”

稻草与麦杆，终将站在不知饥馑的

成都平原的屋顶之上

此刻，我是一个人的烟火，与人间

玉垒山，让香与月色吹进你的面孔

岁月饮酒。坠入月色的桂花酒

让九月枝头的露水与灵魂，失重

被梦里岷山的雪与岷江的水，流走

岁月淘滩。掉入江中的缺月

是古堰不锈的卧铁

卧铁，怀抱山川的锈与内心的铁

岁月雕像。一些防御抵抗成墙

一些死亡自燃成草，一些雕像

再次深陷，松茂古道的万重绳索

茶与马，在千山万水之外走丢

盐与铁，像道路往返着亘古的饥饿

岁月登高。花朵与浮云的悬梯

深渊的力量，引体向上成山的高度

鲜血在古城墙上，旗帜一样飘扬

登山的人，在找他的脸孔

喊山的人，在等他的灵魂

仰止的怒发，如身后成都平原麦浪翻滚

玉垒浮云，来自头顶的灌溉

这青城的古今与锦江的秀色

天府之源，一轮醉过爱过的下弦月

坐忘在天府之国的杯中

与自己的怀中

霍城，不负边城不负香

西出阳关，故人就是惠远古城

在古城，残垣断壁是折戟沉沙的盾牌

始终挺立着的戍守

云层一般在空中架设道路

春风自度，从失去躯体的遗址的

内心涌出，踏破荒草与野火

荷戈西放，抬棺西征

忠诚的石头把自己砌成边城

并长出天山，长出帕米尔高原

长出无尽的草原、河流与雪山

最终把自己长成铁马与铜像

伊犁河的落照，是一匹汗血马

低头饮着太阳的伤与自己的血

西行的伊犁河，伸长鹰的翅膀

丝绸与路，是远方，背负的飞翔

漫谷遍野的山花与野果

千百年来给西行与东归的生灵

举起的灯

霍城，在日日自省的钟鼓声中

把自己解救出来

被废墟照亮，像火炬举着自己前行

禀持着青草向上生长的习性

戈壁，攀行于荒原的屋顶上

空旷，是无法抵达的内伤

阳光的落雪，积成天山的海拔

快步生风，急流成河

走出自己，走出荒芜与狭窄

就是大地的丰茂与祖国的辽阔

薰衣草，拔节于自己的头顶

超越草，把自己开出花

代替苦难，长出爱的颜色与光芒

用笑脸晒着伤痛，这伤痛贴近

花海的紫色的甜

张臂迎风、举目环顾吧：这最远的边关

就是人间最近的梦乡

梦乡，伊帕尔汗盛开的样子

像突然醒来的银河落满人间

霍城，坐在浩海的芳香中

并深醉于芳香的凝视

与远望，未来必将又是一个

紫色的清晨：芳香繁殖芳香

爱生长着爱

在黄姚古镇，我遇见另一个我

“万物都是自己的镜子，它只映照

回头的人。”

黄姚，时光把自己走丢，却把梦

与梦中喊你的姓氏，留住

在古镇，通往这里的路长满石头

竖起的道路，伸手而来的岭南

岭南的万千群山用石头的眺望

追踪八千里路云和月的行程

古镇抱紧江南，坐在梦中：

宋朝，与我，以及更远的中原走散

曾经一路的风霜，走成古镇今夜的

弦月。一个是我的人

在另一个征途与生活之中

就像古镇被突然照亮的梦中

走出的，另一个我

“这些安静，纯粹，陌生，孤独

正弥合着世间被撕裂的部分。”

在古镇面前，一切事物都无可遁形

房屋与安静并肩站着

墙壁的每一面，都映照阳光

墙影的手指，指向万物的内心

寂静的古镇，扩散为一缕缕青烟

万物皆在梦中，像水底五彩斑斓的

石头。青草、树木，虫鸣与鸟啼

一抹晚霞中的山色，撞响古寺的钟

荷塘里莲与月，滚动一滴露水的初心

水边的闲云与野鹤，对影成三人

与我一样，把头伸向天空交谈

村头，万物合围成一棵巨大的榕树

植物的思想，一如根须倒挂

一棵奔跑了五百年的榕树

身后：绿色的乡愁赶来

灵魂在流水中，那纯粹的古镜

找到了自己的脸，与光芒

“你才会用心灵说，有一个彼岸的

世界。”

在古镇，万物都向着内心深处生长

古井，在内心挖掘天空的雨水

闭上眼睛，就能看清梦的甘甜

古石桥，从自己的内心出发

淌过河，向着彼岸

古屋，心中背负一个人的地老天荒

那座古亭，倚在内心的远望与守候中

古街，倾听内心风的脚步声

所有的脚步，都是为了赶上远方的心跳

远方的山水中，藏有飞瀑与古寺

古寺的内心，怀着香火与晨钟暮鼓

时间的浓雾沿归途渐渐散开

“此刻的我，一个在南方的艳阳里

大雪纷飞的人”

成为流水，再陪伴一千年的流离

成为岩石，再打坐一千年的慈悲

逆风的投影

“人类总是丢弃身后的东西”

季节轮回，像苦难大地再度分娩自己

看见众多诞生，却看不到存在

每条道路，最终都会长成歧路

时间不断地丢下它的主人

“你吞食的东西将你吞噬”

在人类与自然之间

我是自己的一座巨大的空房子

没有退路，才是唯一的出路

像一棵冬天的树

向着头顶与天空突围

“在冬天，我只追求一无所有的东西”

秋风落下，砸在枯叶的白发上

枯叶落下，砸在谎言的舌根上

落叶对于树来说

不是无情，而是无义

树对于冬天来说

不是不离，而是不弃

荒芜的冬天坚挺着向上的姿态

一棵捧雪的树，一块策风的碑

“在人间，我只爱非人间的东西”

这世界，有太多下跌的事物

向下的引力，失重的自我

在黑暗的中间有人站立

像高悬的上弦月，俯看人间与深渊

梦是赤裸的，道德是透明的

碎了一地的是霜降，与露水的慈悲

“人在苦难之中，才更像一个人”

风吹进天地无脸的面孔

它从不言语，只说出

花朵的火焰，与云朵的岩浆

在空洞的蜘蛛网上梦到秋千与爱

爱是固执的猎手

在无边的天际捕捉

时时坠落的人类与自己

“死亡不是生命的终点，遗忘才是”

成为自己的人，最初都抛弃了自己

撞破的南墙，砸碎的天窗，失去结局

撞墙的背影，宛若破开自己的闪电

撕开的雷声、雨滴、道路与奔跑

用自己的头向前狂奔

逆行。都是迷失自己的人

终将成为所有人的陌生人

被遗忘悲伤与铭记

北冥之鱼。飞鸟与鱼的距离

张开双臂，做逆风的翅膀

苍茫人间，是风的遗忘，与想象

生的反方向

阳光每天背起十字架

人类背着自己的背影

苦难与希望，背向而行的路人

一种反方向光影的行走

万物总被反复折射和折叠

身披夜色的行人

把自己打磨成一种光源

我承认，我历经沧桑

一种暗物顿悟之后的反射

像阳光撕开的闪电

雷声与惊醒，被同时照亮

内心的红炉，沸腾着漫天的雪

淬火。从青铜的火焰里

赴一场盛大的生死

灰烬是对生的漫长渐悟

燃烧是对死的彻底顿悟

生的反方向不是死

是换一种活法

没有归来，只有再度醒来

谁的余香在我的手上

玫瑰的刺是余香的手

所有的情爱都紧紧地捂着胸口

心痛的时候  玫瑰就裂口绽开

最初的一滴血叫喊着我的名字

爱会不知羞耻的全部给你

撕下伊甸园最后一片遮挡的叶

爱的城堡：太阳的裸体与星月的香

想握你时 手发着欲望的香

你的背影与玫瑰的刺一样尖锐  刺

是一把寒光闪闪的钥匙

把这秋风秋雨秋云一一划破

爱在无数次热烈破碎中

给自己涂抹上不同的颜色

渴望风再度吹起

风起的时候花就开了

渴望行走在风的方向

风来的方向有手的余香

拐向冬天的早晨

冬天的冷，像剥开羞耻的祼露的疼

必须把自己抱紧，或者捂热

澡雪之后，才敢以干净的拥抱

给你手指的火苗的燃烧，给你嘴唇的雪的融化

迷茫的晨雾，提着太阳的灯笼

在早晨的冬天，拐向冬天的早晨

需要堆积多少冷啊，结冰的河流

从此岸，直抵彼岸

自度。从无数个我凝结成一个我

从自身趟过吧，苦难，与道路

美瑞莎海滩：雪的遗骸

世间的一切，除了海与水

谁都别想闯进我的心门

以石头的方式抵达水

水与水相逢，然后走散

两个人走散的地方，即是天涯海角

此刻的印度洋，不断地撕裂自己

再给自己灌入水，河流与海

仿佛千山万水之后

所有的苦难，更深地渗入彼此

海岛的手掌，抓不住海的梦游

惊涛拍岸。水与岸是相濡以沬的鱼

肉体相互撞击，彼此打造成船

江湖无水。水在海中打捞自己

水的铁石心肠，埋葬着怎样的海枯石烂

就用这海枯石烂撞击我吧

用水撞击，用岛礁撞击，用岸撞击

用整片海洋，全部撞击我吧

卷起的千堆雪。是你我，斯里兰卡

唯一的雪。是火焰，是爱，是雪的遗骸 

墨尔本： 十二门徒石

所有来者不是为了门徒，而是石头

亿万年执迷不误的石头，才能称为门徒

不是为了禀持虔诚，而是猜度其中的背叛 

为了成为自己，世界与人类，必将自我出卖

罪恶与救赎，都跪拜于走投无路的传说

风蚀与腐化，是真相的搏弈

我只信仰真理，是第十三个门徒

用整个太平洋，擦洗原罪的肉欲

在海水遗忘的镜面，打捞自己消逝的脸

一堵风化的岩石，无法转身

捧起自己面目全非的面孔

让一种空无裸露与曝晒，来者皆为路人

仿佛都带不走欲望肉身的虔诚

太多的浪踩在自己的阴影中

纷纷向人间倒塌，无论我，还是我自己

Mangcheng Historic Site, an Evidence for the Land in Old Times

"The draughty ruins with the whisper of the gods all round,

Like an aphonous song forgetting itself and imagining itself."

Time is a kind of altitude, Mangcheng ruins of four thousand years 

Collapses from the heart of the ancient Shu. Downward or inward

It becomes a height, caught in the depth of time and tide

The eight-hundred-mile Qingcheng Mountain watch afar, as a spectator or an evidence

On the slope of time, everything is buried again and again

Their own gravity and weight

Wind and rain, thunder and lightning are hidden in good violence

Tearing themselves apart again and again

The wrenching pain is the only way to reach their own

I dissect myself, embracing the barren as kind of existence

I seem to stand alone in the dark disregarding of time

Mourning the loss of a man and the disappearance of a tribe

The empty me is a fragment of the ruins 

Becoming a kind of evidence of the ancient Shu ancestors  

Proving for mountains and rivers, for the time 

From the Yingpan Moutain it its north to Baotun at its south  

Under the ruins of Mount Qingcheng

The will of the ancient Shu has been carbonized

The faces of the horde and time extinguish on the walls

The body of the patriarch is holding an empty pubic bone 

A few blocks of stone retreat to a corner of the wall

Standing in their own hardness and light

The shining stone is the king of the sunken earth

Ancestors and tribes cut themselves into stone tools

In misery, acuteness is the only work

After thousands of years the sharp points grow into iron

With the stars and the moon tonight, down on me

On the vast earth, crops die repeatedly

The eternal farming by the slash-and-burn method on the land

Like ashes and faith and seed

Like the rotten one with cave-like eyes 

Goes towards itself and the future

"Life will keep throwing blades of grass into the soil."

Straw and straw shall stand upon the rooftops of the plains of Chengdu

Where hunger is not existed

At the moment, I am the fireworks of mankind and world

Yulei Mountain, Let the Fragrance and Moonlight Blow into Your Face

The aged wine. Osmanthus wine falls into the moonlight

Making the dew and soul of September branches weightless

Flowing away with the snow and water of Minjiang River

The aged beach. The waning moon that fell into the river

It is the rustless lying iron in ancient Dujiang Weir

Lying iron embraces the rust of the mountains and the inner iron

The aged statues. Some resisting works becomes walls

Some dead becomes grass, some aged statues

Gets stuck in mud again. The heavy ropes on the ancient road

Tea and horse are lost beyond thousands of mountains and rivers

Salt and iron, go to and from like roads to the ancient hunger

The aged height. A hanging ladder of flowers and clouds

The power of the abyss, the pull-up mountain heights

Blood on the walls of old town waves like flags

The climber is looking for his face

He who calls the mountain is waiting for his soul

The hair of the angry is rolling like the wheat billows on the Chengdu plain behind him

The floating clouds over MoutYulei comes from the overhead irrigation

The ancient Qingcheng Mountain and the beautiful Jinjiang River

Are sources of the Land of Abundance. A loving waning moon

Is lost in the cup of the land of Abundance

And its arms

Huocheng County: a Fragrant Border Town

West of Yangguan, the old friend is ancient town Huiyuan 

Broken walls are shields for the halberds buried in sand

Always standing in guard

Roads are built in the clouds

The spring breezes gush forth from the heart of the ruins, breaking through the grass and the fire

Zuo Zongtang led the Western Expedition Army to recover territory with a coffin 

The faithful stones built themselves into a frontier town

And grow out Tianshan Mountains, the Pamirs

Grow out endless grasslands, rivers, and snow-capped mountains

And grow into an iron horse and a bronze statue at last

In the picture of the setting sun, a sweaty horse

Bowing his head and drinking the wound of the sun and his own blood by the Yili River

And an eagle stretching its wings

Silk and road are flights to the distance

Mountain flowers and wild fruits all over the valley

For thousands of years to the westbound and eastbound creatures

Lift the lamps

In the daily introspective drum and bell

Huocheng saved itself

Illuminated by the ruins, like a torch carrying its own forward

Keeping the habit of grass growing upward 

Gobi climbs on the ridge of the wilderness

Emptiness is the internal injury that cannot be reached

The snows in the sun heap up the elevation of the Tianshan Mountains

The wind is blowing and the river is running 

Out of itself, out of the barren and narrow

To the abundance of the earth and the vast motherland

Lavender sprouts on top of its head

Beyond the grass, and flowers

Against the suffering, it grows the color and light of love

With a smiling face towards the scorching sunburned pain which is close

To the purple sweet of flowers

Open your arms to the wind and look around: the farthest border

Is the nearest dreamland on earth

Dream land, Ippal Khan in full bloom

Like the Milky Way suddenly waking up to the earth

Huocheng, sitting on the fragrance of the vast sea

Gets drunk in the balmy gaze

Look far, the future will be another

Purple Morning: Aromatic Breeding Aromatic

Love begets love

In Huang Yao Ancient Town I Met Another Me

"Everything is a mirror of itself; it only reflects

The one who turns back."

In Huangyao, time lost itself, but kept the dream 

And the name that called you in the dream 

In the ancient town, the road to here is covered with stones

The upright road is Lingnan within reach  

Lingnan mountains with stones overlooking

Trace the eight-thousand-mile journey of cloud and moon

The ancient town holds tight the south, sitting in a dream:

The Song Dynasty, and I, as well as the further Central Plains are separate and lost

The bygone hardships of a journey walk into the crescent moon 

Of the old town tonight.  One is myself

From another journey

Like a dream of an ancient town suddenly lit up

Walk out of another me

"The serenity, pureness, strangeness, solitude

Are healing the tearing world."

In front of the ancient town, everything is impossible to hide

Houses stand side by side with silence

The sun shone on every side of the wall

The finger of the wall shadow points to the heart of everything

The quiet old town is diffused into plumes of smoke

Everything is in a dream, like colorful stones 

in the water. Grass, trees, insects, and birds

A touch of mountain color in the sunset rings the bell of the ancient temple

Lotus and the moon in the lotus pond, a drop of rolling dew

By the water side, idle cloud and wild crane, and the shadow take shape of three people

Head to the sky like me, they are talking

At the end of the village, a huge banyan tree is surrounded by all things on earth

The thoughts of plants are like roots hanging upside down

A banyan tree that has been running for 500 years

Behind it: green homesickness follows

The soul in the water, the pure ancient mirror

Has found his face with the light

"Then you will say from your heart, there is another shore

Of the world."

In the ancient town, everything grows toward deep heart

The old well digs in the heart for the rain from sky

Close your eyes, you will see the sweet dream

The ancient stone bridge, from its own heart

Runs across the river toward the other shore

That ancient house carries a person's life 

That ancient pavilion leans on the heart of waiting for the distant

That ancient street listens to the footsteps of the wind inside

All the steps are to catch up with the heartbeat in the distance

In the distant landscape, there are waterfalls and ancient temples

The heart of the ancient temple hides the incense and morning bells and evening drums

The fog of time is lifting

"At that moment, I’m alone in the southern sun

Fluttering like snowflakes"

Become water, wandering another thousand years 

Become a rock, meditating another thousand years

Upwind projection

"Human beings always discard things behind them."

The seasons are reincarnated as the suffering earth gives birth to itself again

We see the birth, but not the existence

Every road will eventually lead to a branch road

Time leaves its master behind

"What swallowed by you will swallow you up."

Between man and nature

I am a huge empty house of my own

The only way out is without a retreat 

Like a tree in winter

Breaking out towards the top of your head and the sky

"In winter, I seek only those own nothing in the world."

The autumn wind falls on the white hair of the dead leaves

The dead leaves fall on the tongue of lies

Fallen leaves to the tree

Are not merciless, but lack of loyalty

Trees in the winter

Leave, but not abandon

The harsh winter keeps an upward posture

A tree holding snow, a monument in the wind

"In the world, I love only the things do not exist on the earth."

In the world, so many things are falling

Downward gravity, weightless self

Someone stands in the darkness

Like a waxing moon, gazing over the earth and the abyss

Dreams are bald, morals are transparent

What’s broken on the ground is the mercy of frost and dew  

"A man is more like a man when he is in distress."

The wind blows into the faceless face of heaven and earth

It never speaks, but tells

Flames of flowers, and magma of clouds

In the empty spider web dreaming swing and love

Love, the stubborn hunter, catches in the vast sky

Human beings and itself falling at any time

"Lethe rather than death is the end of life"

He who becomes himself abandoned himself at the very beginning

The smashed wall and window lose an outcome

The shadow of the back like a lightening splitting itself

Tears the thunder, raindrops, road and runs

Runs with his own head

Countermarching. Those who have lost themselves

Will be strangers to all 

Being forgotten. Grieve or remember

The distance between birds and fish. The huge fish 

Opens its fins as wings against the wind

The vast world is the lethe of wind and imagination.

The Opposite Direction of Life

The sun carries the cross every day

Man carries his own shadow

Suffering or hope, the passers-by walk in different directions

A movement of light and shadow in the opposite direction

Everything is refracted and folded over and over again

Pedestrians in the dark

Grind themselves into a light

I admit I've been through a lot

By a kind of dark object after the reflection of insight

Like lightning ripped by the sun

The thunder and the awakening are simultaneously illuminated

The heart of the red furnace, boiling in the snow all over the sky

Quenches. The flames of bronze

Are going through life and death

Ashes are a long awakening to life

Burning is the ultimate epiphany of death

The opposite direction of life is not death

But living in a different way

There is no return, only to wake up again

Whose Scent Remains in my Hand

The thorn of rose is the remaining scent of the hand

All the love clutch hands at the bosom 

The rose splits open when it hurts

The first drop of blood cries my name

Love will shamelessly give it all to you

Tear off the last shade in the garden of Eden

In the castle of love: naked sun and scented moon

Wanting to hold you, the hand sends off the scent of desire

Your figure is as sharp as the thorn of a rose

The thorn is a cold shining key

Splitting the autumn wind, rain and clouds one by one

Love is broken in countless passions 

Paint oneself in different colors

I long for the wind to blow again

And then the flower will bloom

I’m eager to walk in the direction of the wind

In which there is the scent of the hand 

A  Morning  Turning to a Winter 

The cold of winter is like the pain of stripping naked shame;

You have to hold yourself tight or warm yourself up.

Only after the snow shower could I give you a clean hug

To emblaze the fire for your fingers, to melt the snow for your lips.

The confused morning fog, carrying the sun lantern

In the morning of winter, turns to the winter morning.

How much cold is it to pile up, the frozen river,

From here, reaches to the shore?

Save myself. Innumerable I condensed into one,

Walk through it all, the suffering and the way.

Mirissa Beach: Remains of Snow

None in the world, but the sea and water

Would break open the door of my heart.

I reach water in the form of a stone.

Water meets with water, and then they separate.

The place where two people lose each other is the end of the earth.

The Indian Ocean at this moment is tearing itself apart constantly,

Then it pours water into itself again. In rivers and seas,

As if after a life long journey,

Are all the sufferings which permeate deeper into each other.

The hands of the island are unable to grasp the sea’s sleepwalk,

The tides beat the shore. Water and shore are two fish mutually dependent for existence.

Bodies bump into each other, and forge each other into a ship.

Rivers and lakes have no water. Water fishes itself in the sea.

In the stone heart of water, what an eternity that is buried!

Hit me with that eternity,

Hit with water, hit with reef, hit with shore,

Hit me with the whole ocean. All, hit me.

A thousand rolls of snow surging. It’s yours, mine, and Sri Lanka’s.

The only snow. It is fire, it is love, and it is the remains of snow.

Melbourne: the Twelve Apostles Stone

All come not for the disciples, but for the stones

A disciple is a stone that has been attached to it for eons

All come not to uphold piety but to guess betrayal

In order to become oneself, the world and mankind, they must sell themselves

Both sin and redemption bow to the legend of desperation

Wind erosion and decay are the game of truth

I believe only in truth, the thirteenth disciple

Scrubing the carnality of original sin in the whole Pacific Ocean

Salvaging their vanishing face in the forgotten mirror

A wall of weathered rock is unable to turn around

Holding up his unrecognizable face

Let the empty naked and exposed to the sun. The newcomers are passers-by

As if they could not take away the desire of the body of piety

Too many waves tread in their own shadow

Falling down upon the earth, both me and myself

译者：

张琼，肇庆学院外国语学院副教授，肇庆市翻译协会会长。

Translator:

ZHANG Qiong, an associate professor of School of Foreign Languages of Zhaoqing University, President of Translators Association of Zhaoqing.

      （编辑：张坚）