倒啊倒啊倒   —奇姆肯特的夏天翻译：诗验室抓饭是心之所归，与大家分享日子的滋味。香料监视干枯的眼，让沙哑的喉咙变沉，一条夏毯裹着促膝闲谈上菜。墨色坐垫燃烧的颜色绿茶在完整的思想上沸腾着倒啊倒啊倒。当空杯以金叶之唇打呵欠时，一直吃到所有的肉都已耗光。母亲曾经告诉我们太阳也持相同的看法 ——它会在我们的皮肤上一直待到我们变瘦为止。感谢的话在睡意十足的餐巾间溜到桌上而朋友们则拿着账单相互搀扶。

Pour and pour and pour    —Summer in Shymkentby Katie EsméePlov is meant for the heart,breaking bread the day. Spices spy dry eyes and coat hoarse throatsheavy, a summer blanket servedwith cross-legged conversations.Burning colors of inked seat cushionsand zelenny chay simmering atop whole thoughts pour and pour and pour. When empty chashkayawn lipped in gold leaf, eat until all meat isconsumed. Our mothers told usthe sun thinks the same – mooring on our skin until we've pruned.Spasiba slips to table among sleepy napkinswhile friends carry the bill and each other.Katie Esmée is a Bachata lover, yogi, and poet. 

Family Gatheringtranslated by PLSpomegranates and slot machinesand the glass bullets rolling in your eyesplacing fate and other dazzling gemstones in a colorful mazethose left behind tracing your footstepsdevils marching across the wilderness can also be captured so easilyand the sword of Mei Jian Chi from the darkest moment of flowers and the nameless shadow floating in the evening skythe slim body will generate beautiful and violent tremors in her fight against the Taurenthis violent beauty as if falling into the giant horse-weeds blooming in the duskin which the spirit that need not be drunk boilingmore mysterious and cruel than the revenge of the first loverabandoned sneakers, voice of crystals, pitch-black rivers of floating disasters and pipes piercing through silver skyscrapersirrational shadows crushing each other in the reflection over the whites of the eye, never coming togetherdancing flies and bees as if watching pair after pair of horses galloping awayyes, your enemy is the souls on the horsebackall natural laws and self-claimed matters of orderswhose lips once had the traces of tango dancers’ moves toobut now losing the direction of eyesight in the bustling dead citylies petrified from speeches occupied by banalitywho keeps the sleepwalker at a gold-burning dinner captivethe saddest thing about lifeis to play a song about dying when dyingdead pomegranates bloomingunder the cold blazing sun where slot machines have gambled away all their glass bulletshairs flaming red, eyes blinking in the heat, ears led to the depth of the cave with rising yellow smokeby a pair of feathersgalloping, hopping, wrestling phantoms, an honorable collective executing the act of murderalong with the concerto of the clinking sounds of all wine glasses raised in the worldfrom now on swirling or scattering fire and mist have stoppedlike their commotions fantasized from the negative and positive electrodesreadings from face to facemovements from the delirium of all still thingsand mental disorders

家庭聚餐作者：青番石榴和老虎机以及你眼底转动的玻璃子弹把命运同其他令人眩晕的宝石放进五光十色的迷宫中那些剩下的踩着你的脚印列队穿行于旷野的魔鬼也可以如此轻易被捕获而那把来自花丛最昏暗的时刻，夜空中漂浮的无名阴影的眉间尺之剑纤细的躯体将在与牛头人的搏斗中引起一阵阵美好剧烈的震颤美好剧烈仿佛摔落于暮色下生长的高大蓬草其中沸腾着无需饮用的烈酒比第一个恋人的复仇更神秘残酷遗弃的旅鞋 晶体的歌声 漂浮灾难的黢黑大河与穿透银色摩天楼的管道无理的影子在眼白的倒影上彼此粉碎 永不结合蝇飞蜂舞如同仰望一对对马蹄飞驰而过是的，你的敌人是马背上的魂灵一切自然规律与自称规律的物质他们的双唇也曾浮现探戈舞者双腿的轨迹如今在风尘仆仆的死城迷失目光的去向谎言僵化自被庸常占领的话语为之俘获的是燃烧着金子的宴席上的梦游者世间的可悲在于将死的时刻也自动奏响一首关于将死的歌死去的番石榴盛开在老虎机输光了玻璃子弹时放射的冰冷烈日之下头发是火红色，眼在灼热中精光闪烁，双耳被一对羽毛带向升起黄烟的洞窟深处飞驰、蹦跳、搏斗的幻影、行使谋杀的荣誉集体连同世界上被举起的全部酒杯相互碰撞的协奏从此停止了飞旋或倾撒火与雾一如它们自电极正负间幻化的骚动面孔对面孔的解读一切静止之物的谵妄与神经倒错中产生的运动

天秤座翻译：诗验室对那个妄想中只容下密谋攻击宇宙季的男人保持戒备。因为有一天，他可能会觉得其中一些诡计会比那些由发酵的后悔支撑的诡计有着更明显的修饰痕迹。他应该在黑边的棉花糖与被旋至你贪婪的火焰周围一堆潮湿的承诺之间多参与一些夜行希望你能理解乙醇制成的男人与无月之空下被一饮而尽的那杯水之间的区别

Libra Seasonby Lauren Elizabeth be wary of the man whose schemeagainst the cosmic seasonslies unaccompaniedin fallacious mind,for one day, he may find some more readily refurbished than those upholstered in fermented regret.and should he engage in nocturnal affairsbetween charcoal lipped marshmallowsandthe dampened piles of promisesswept round your ravenous flames,may you understand the differencebetween a man made of ethanoland a bedside glass of waterswilled under a moonless sky.

crossing the rivertranslated by PLSleave the river too long, then you try to lookno longer obsessed with butterflies, no longerafraid of the blinding reflected light of the telescopewhat’s burning is still the rubbles untamed, stillthe arched body standing at the head of the bridgetrembling, reflecting, crushed between the banksscreaming, curling shells of cocoon“You shouldn’t cross the river!” yet you are already on the other shorebecause of a similar joy from brushing past each other,  again sculpted intoa blood-stained statue by the fornicationof similarities and differences“how could you cross the river” yet you are allowed to plant flowersusing orange leaves and inked hands to feeda squad of dogs turned into a storm rain from continuous barkingat least, this evening is still sculptable, stillgentle enough to grant one sleep walk                                                             “what can I do about you”at the end it’s the intermittent groans of passersbyyet because of this you always wailwail over a river too long, too dark, too wild but silent

渡河作者：白昕沄任那过长的河流，而你去看不再执着于蝴蝶，不再畏惧于望远镜中倒刺的光灼身的，仍是未磨平的石砂，仍是桥头站立又弯曲的身体颠仆，反射，碎裂进岸与岸间呐喊的、蜷曲的茧壳“公无渡河！” 而你已在彼岸因为一缕擦肩的相似喜悦，又被相同与相异的交媾塑成了一座带血的像“公竟渡河！” 而你被允许种花用橙红的瓣叶、用染墨的手去喂一群吠着吠着便成了暴雨的狗至少，这一夜依然可塑，依然温柔得准许一次梦游                                             “其奈公何！” 尽头是过路人的断鸣而你总因此而哭哭一条过长、过暗、过盛却缄言的河

turbulence    — to YXtranslated by PLSwe are forced to land here for nowBrautigan on the table, like adefeated Indian tenttrekking doesn’t take place on the other shorethose mellow soils, fernsthe rebounds after being rolled over by cars, yetaround us, the muddy vulgarityembellished into chocolate paste —the more obsession people have with sweetness, the morebitterness proven, the more speed they demand,the more emptinesscongealed into ores on the backinflammations from bad postures, increasinglyintolerant to stooping, touching the porcelain oflight over waterthe throat you bring to China, askingwhy there’s no difference betweensomeone hearing “Jiangnan”and changing channelsthis reminds me of the concerns about earthquakesinscribed all over the top of the pagoda, inside ancient gatesthere’s always people building a country of a countryin Mandarin.self-salvations already so suspicious as this, wecan’t be as selfish as themit used to be the moon leading us through the night,then lamps, now, it’s the non-stopprogress bars: galloping radio waves want me to answerwhether suspending in the air is a real flight

乱气流—给YX作者：李晚我们暂时迫降到这里布劳提根扣在桌上，像一顶战败的印第安帐篷跋涉，并不发生在彼岸那些松爽土壤、蕨类植物被车碾过后的回弹，而在我们周围，正被妆点成巧克力酱的泥泞俗气——人们有多嗜甜，就有多少苦得到证实，怀何种热情在要求速度，就有同等的空虚在背上冷凝成矿石坏坐姿引发的炎症，越来越难以容忍弯腰、向水面抚摸光的瓷片你到中国的咽喉，问为什么有人听见“江南”和换一个频道没什么区别这让我想起宝塔高处写满对地震的担忧，古老重门里一直有人在营建汉语的国中之国。自救已如此可疑，我们不能同他们一样自私夜里为我们领航的，从前是月亮后来是灯，现在，是永无止息的进度条：疾驰的电波要我回答是否悬空就是真正的飞行