Anastassis Vistonitis | 安纳斯塔西斯·维斯托尼提斯

 

 

English

 

ARS POETICA

 

 

Not like the leaves

windswept through the streets.

Nor still in the sea,

a tethered boat.

A poem is not the sky’s azure,

its lucid air.

 

A poem is a stake

through the world’s heart,

a glinting blade

driven through the towns.

A poem is pain,

a bright splinter of steel,

ice, a blackened wound.

A poem is obdurate,

its facets diamond.

Graved stone.

A surging Asian river.

 

A poem is neither voice

nor winged passage.

It’s a rifleshot

at history, the skyline.

A poem is no withering bloom.

It is anguish, embalmed.

 

trans. © Anastassis Vistonitis & George O’Connell

 

中文

 

诗艺

 

 

不是街头风中

打旋的树叶。

不是死寂的海,

系泊的船。

一首诗不是天空之蓝,

不是清爽的空气。

 

它是一根长钉

刺穿世界的心脏。

一把森冷的刀

楔入每一座城镇。

一首诗是痛苦,

一块耀眼的铁,

冰,一个瘀黑的伤口。

它坚固

如钻石的刻面。

肃穆的石头。

奔流的亚洲之河。

 

一首诗不是轻声细语

不是翅膀掠过的痕迹。

它是一声枪响

瞄准历史,射向地平线。

一首诗是一朵不谢的花。

用香料保存的疼。

 

翻译 © 史春波

 

more by Anastassis Vistonitis

After the Battle | 战役之后

The Moon in the Glass | 杯中的月亮

Curtain |

Dark Summer | 黑暗的夏天

Dream |

Stone | 石头

Waiting | 等待

Target Range | 射程

Metaphor | 隐喻

The End of Time | 时间的尽头

Winter 2016-17

池凌云 | Chi Lingyun

鍾國強 | Chung Kwok-keung

Photos © 胡敏 | Hu Min