孤 光（组诗）秦 风

■ 孤光，你是灵魂的燃烧着的尽望 

“别告诉月正亮，给我看破碎 

玻璃上闪烁的光。” 

不断生长的圆与满，形成更大的黑洞与陷阱 

沉陷于深渊。黑色的大地以及更黑的夜晚 

一切悬空，谁的举头与尽望把自己照亮 

这孤光犹如子宫，只在苦难里有发光的身体 

黑夜终将破碎，在灯火与星星铺成的房顶熄灭 

星球与我们始终倾斜以待，明天与我们都会失去 

平衡。走丟的月光，像深渊在死亡中睁开的 

瞳孔，她的体内是座冰山，仅有一棵燃烧的树 

都在以离开的方式，不断地向自己靠近 

弦月，以一种尖锐的饥饿啃光自己 

孤光，这夜的缺口，是异乡，人间在此走丟 

从梦里看到的玻璃，恍恍惚惚的月色与脸 

破碎，是尘世间唯一的醒者： 

“孤光，你是灵魂的燃烧着的尽望。”  

■九月：桂花树之上的居士 

“……，……忽然所有的空间静止， 

停下来，静默，把自己打开……。” 

静默的九月，这个秋天空洞而狭窄的 

空间。庭院的桂花，居士一样双手打开 

空无的意义、目的和香气 

九月的静默，如抚慰。吹拂秋天浑身 

漫天遍野的沉寂与枯萎 

绿叶在一夜之间长出深陷忧郁的金色 

像九月在自己头顶打坐的镜片 

在叶脉断流处，睁开绝望之眼 

香的深呼吸，把自己从病毒、热浪与硝烟中 

推开。一切都退后，让自己空着 

花朵最终是香的孤儿，整个人间，也是。 

■ 九月的朝天椒 

绿叶都快掉光了，这仿佛是必经的灵肉 

分离。如我，八月举起的一支垂直的红色 

这九月的温度计：酷热，裸露，尖锐 

像黑海呼啸而来的飞弹，一块烧红的 

乌克兰上空炸开的弹片与剑指 

愤怒的热浪与静默的火焰，烧焦了自己 

每个物种，都流落在异国他乡 

疫病，死灰不灭的火苗 

隐藏着人类所有的真相与疼痛 

它蒙住了人间的半张嘴和脸 

大地上到处都是油锅 

谁怕，我自有朝天椒浑身的火 

Solitary Light (a set of poems) 

By Qin Feng 

■ Solitary Light, the Burning Hope of the Soul 

"Don't say the moon is shining. Show me  

The light  

Flickering on the broken glass." 

The ever-growing round and full takes the shape of a larger black hole  

Sinking into the abyss. Against the black earth and still blacker night, 

Everything hangs in the air. Who hath lifted up his head and looked with all his eyes to give light unto himself? 

This solitary light is like a uterus, flickering only in suffering. 

The night will break and die out on a roof of lights and stars. 

The planet is always tilted to us. Tomorrow we will all be out of  

Balance. The lost moon is like a pupil open 

In the abyss of death. There's an iceberg inside her, with nothing but a burning tree. 

Everything is in the way of leaving, constantly close to themselves. 

The crescent moon gnawed itself away with a sharp hunger. 

Solitary light, the gap of the night, is a foreign land, where the world is lost. 

In the dream, I see the glass, trance of moonlight and face. 

Broken is the only awaken in the world: 

"Solitary light, the burning hope of the soul." 

■ September: a Hermit in the Osmanthus Tree 

"... And... Suddenly the world is motionless. 

Calm down, release yourself... " 

Silent September, a hollow and narrow 

Space in autumn. Like a hermit, osmanthus flowers in the courtyard release the empty meaning, purpose, and aroma 

The silence of September is soothing. All over the fields are blowing silence and wilt. 

The leaves having turned a deep golden shade of melancholy overnight 

Like the lens of September meditating on its head 

Open their eyes of despair where the veins break. 

Take a deep breath of the aroma, pushing yourself away from the virus, heat  

And smoke of gunpowder. Step back. Everything steps back and leave me alone. 

Flowers are ultimately the orphans of incense, and so is the whole world. 

■ Pod Pepper in September 

The green leaves are falling off, as if it were a necessary separation  

Of spirit and flesh. Like me, a vertical red held up by August. 

The September thermometer: hot, bare and sharp 

Like a missile whistling in from the Black Sea, a piece of red-hot shrapnel from Ukrainian sky. 

The sword pointing to the angry heat and silent fire, scorch themselves. 

Each species wanders far from home. 

Blight, an inextinguishable flame 

Hiding all the truth and pain of humanity. 

It covers half the mouth and face of the world. 

The earth is full of frying pans. 

Who's scared? I'm hot tempered as chili peppers. 

作者： 秦风，本名蒲建雄，男，文学博士，成都文学院特邀作家。曾获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》。 

本期翻译：张琼 本期制作：晓芳