「浮標」香港國際詩歌之夜2025 嘉賓預告丨周魚
冰箱里的鸡蛋能告诉我生命很难告诉我的事
周鱼
冰箱里的鸡蛋能告诉我生命很难告诉我的事。
蛋壳多么美，椭圆、光滑，
瓷器难以达到的质地。
像颗水滴，像零
一样优雅。即使它破碎了，除了
看到一些流质，没别的，
没有利器，也不会跳起来。
它们看起来与静物没有两样。
没有任何要求。仅仅等着被吃。
看起来绝对安静。
但事实上并不安静，只要
你真正面对一颗蛋，
一个节拍器就开始左右摇晃，在两个声音之间，
在“生命”与“非生命”之间，
在“是”与“否”之间，
在“前世”与“来生”之间，
在“因”与“果”之间，
鸡蛋不置可否，鸡蛋从来都不会着急，所以
带来鸣响。
与人类所有其他鸣响不同的鸣响。
带来零。
特殊的、睿智的、被排外的零。它，能告诉我
生命鲜少告诉我的事，
为了给生命真的带来点什么。
The Eggs in the Fridge Can Tell Me What Life Has Trouble Telling Me
Zhou Yu
The eggs in the fridge can tell me what life has trouble telling me.
The shells are so beautiful, oval and smooth,
finer textured than most porcelain.
Like a drop of water, like a zero
in its elegance. Even if it breaks, aside
from some liquid, there’s nothing,
no weapons, it won’t leap up at you.
They look just like a still life.
They have no requirements. They just wait to be eaten.
Seeming perfectly silent.
But in fact they’re not silent, if
you truly face an egg,
a metronome begins to sway back and forth, between two sounds
between “life” and “non-life,”
between “yes” and “no,”
between “previous life” and “next life,”
between “cause” and “effect,”
the egg remains noncommittal, the egg never hurries, and so
it brings in sound.
A sound unlike any human sound.
It brings in zero.
A unique, sagacious, excluded zero. It can tell me
what life so rarely tells me,
to really bring something to life.
Translated from Chinese by Eleanor Goodman
构思
周鱼
忽然我就有这感觉：有一天，我们会成为
彼此的诗句。而在那之前，
包含此时此刻我们散文般的闲聊，关于
天气与工作，关于睡眠与食物，
我们释放的那么一些极不起眼的情绪，我们之间
也会发生的地震与火山爆发，而肉眼
都看不见，没有摄像机将它们
定格，它们都还在流动，还在未知之中
漂移，像找不到自己名字的天真的
孩子们，他们躲在白纸背后就像躲在帐篷里，发出
令人奇怪的窸窸窣窣的声响，隐性的字，储存着
某种热量，还没有释放，还没有
稳妥地落在纸上成为可被心神荡漾地划线的一行，
是放在多米诺骨牌阵型中的又一张牌，还没有
到推掉最后一张就发生连锁反应的时刻，
而这些全部的时刻，都是
诗句诞生之前漫长的构思。被某个人琢磨，
被某个人删删改改，某个存在，可能
不是你，也不是我，即使有一日
我们写到，我们读到。
某个我们只能无条件相信的人，
为我们苦思冥想。
那么，那么，这份长久的隐患或恩赐
与最后的皮肤破裂、星云炸开的时刻，马蹄莲
在一缕不知出处的圣光中绽放的时刻，吻落下
的时刻，树脂滴入沉积物的时刻，
真相大白的时刻，献上祭花的时刻相比，
究竟哪个更重要？
Conceptualizing
Zhou Yu
I suddenly had a feeling: one day, we will turn into
each other’s poems. But before that,
including our present prosaic chatting, about
the weather or work, about sleep or food,
the unremarkable emotions we release, we will also
set off earthquakes and violent eruptions of volcanoes, but the naked eye
cannot see them, no camera can manage
to pinpoint them, they are still flowing, still drifting along
in the unknown, like innocent children who can’t find
their own names, they hide on the paper’s backside as though hiding in a tent, making
curious rustling sounds, implicit words, building up
some kind of heat, not yet released, not yet
reliably falling on the paper to become a line that can be scribbled out by the mind
it is another piece placed in the formation of dominoes, not yet
at the moment when the last piece is pushed and causes a chain reaction,
and all of these moments are
slow conceptualizations before the birth of a poem. Pondered by someone,
revised by someone, some existence, maybe
it’s not you and not me, even if one day
we write it, or we read it.
Someone we must trust unconditionally,
who wracks their brains for us.
So, then, this long-term hidden danger or favor
compared to the final moment when the skin splits and the nebula explodes, the moment
when the calla lily blooms in a holy light from an unknown source, the moment
the kiss falls, the moment resin drips into sediment,
the moment the truth is unveiled, the moment the sacrificial flowers are offered up,
compared to this, what is more important?
Translated from Chinese by Eleanor Goodman
“香港国际诗歌之夜”（IPNHK）是诗人北岛于二〇〇九年创办的国际诗歌节。IPNHK十六年来已成功传递了来自三十多个国家及上百位知名国际诗人的诗歌及思想，成为了亚洲最具影响力的诗歌盛事之一，也是国际诗坛上最成功的诗歌活动之一。IPNHK是“世界文学联盟”的成员，与该联盟合作并打造世界最领先的诗歌节。
