A Shanghai Metro Stopby Brady RiddleDoors close, and scrambling masses of arms and legs and equipage stand uniform. Crammed seats. Silence: moons held steadfast—gravity drawing definition toward worlds connectingworlds towards definitiondrawing gravity steadfast—held moons’ silence, seats crammed uniform—stand. Equipage andlegs and arms of masses scrambling—and, close doors.上海地铁站翻译：诗验室门闭上，乱成一团的手脚和装备站成一个姿势。拥挤的座位。沉默：月亮坚定不移 — 重力拉着定义朝向世界连接着世界朝向定义拉着重力坚定不移 — 月亮的沉默，座位拥挤一个姿势 — 站着。装备和手脚一团乱 — 闭上门。
片段作者：万思君他没有一杯牛奶一杯白水地接着喝了杳晦的天逼着他忘了关灯油黄色的灯他感到是某种海水正在落下泥还没结块就被清洗了因此他可以暂时不喝别的抬着脖子 希望雨事可以时常发生Fragmenttranslated by PLSHe didn’t drink it like first a glass of milk then a glass of waterThe overcast sky made him forget to turn off the lightButter-colored lightHe felt as if some kind of seawater was fallingMud washed away before congealingTherefore he didn’t have to drink something else for nowHis head tilted, hoping it could rain more often
Juxtaposedby Martin KruminsThe blur of everything began againI knew a planet and a starI was drawn to bothJuxtaposedlife is nearly there never quite knowing wherejust feeling everything as one whirlwind affair 并置翻译：诗验室一切模糊的感觉又开始了我曾知晓一颗行星和一颗恒星我被二者同时吸引并置的生活快要抵达某处却不知究竟为何处只感觉一切仿若一场匆忙的爱情
昙花作者：王心悦昙花是昙花并不是一种清洁的花。它没有得到这种特权，在世界自然的安排下。它没有没有得到，在预设中应该到达的位置，没有窗台和花园来安放两个字，从上颚把舌头放在骨制盒里，不存在包含的隐喻，从时间的漫长或者流逝而得出的比喻，在这个地标，没有流传下来。昙花依然昙花虽然开放了，过于饱足的心灵，不得不开花，它渴望说。景象是那么寂寞，无法想象的高空角落里因为不变的进程，无法改变，到了时候，就吐出无人觉察的呻吟气息，它扩散开了。只能张开，银白的身体核心，颜色也是他们给予的，举着灯的人没有发现光束，散开了。他们说真美，但她不懂美在哪里。这萧瘦的蓓蕾。Epiphyllumtranslated by PLSEpiphyllum is.Epiphyllum is nota flower of purgation.She has not the privilege, in a worldunder the order of nature. She has nothas not received, a presupposed position,and no windowsill or garden to be placed upon.Two words, storing the tongue in a box of bone from the maxilla,there exist no inclusive metaphors,metaphors from the endlessness or passing of time,never passed on at this landmark.Epiphyllum as before.Though she has now bloomed,an over-satiated soul has to bloom, she concludes with passion.The sight thus lonesome, somewhere high up and un-perceivablebecause unalterable processes can’t be altered,when it’s time, they just spill imperceptible groans,breaths, starting to dissolve.Only the core of a silver body can be stretched,the colors were distributed by them too, people holding lampsdiscovering no light, dissolved. They say what beauty,but they don’t understand where the beauty lies. This lean bud.
Dear Whatever Minor Powers That Be (pt. II)by Matt Schroeder because of course life’s dirty tricks are reserved for when things arefinally going wellbecause of courseyou can check every boxbe highlyqualified & still be ignored in the eyesof a monolithic system that discountsyour entire nation because ofcourse you can go from loved to strayback to lovedto strayagain & the streets will have nothingto say for themselves& thosewho took you in will be elsewheremouths full of laughterlowercase god I am defeatedwhatever minor powers that bepleaseI knew things would get bad againonly I had hoped there might be alittle more time to stuff the banka little more time to set my affairsin orderbut if there is not& ifthis is to be the grave I am to lie intake what’s left of memakesome use of this constant betrayalof a bodyof a lifeI know I ask too often for too much& know that asking for help this oftenresults in exactly the opposite of helpbut this askingthis palm pressingis the only hope I have left at a sparkto set fire to the kindling I’ve become致那些小势力们（第二部分）翻译：诗验室 当然生活的肮脏 伎俩总在事情进展顺利时露出爪牙 你当然可以检查每个盒子 一边高度胜任 一边仍被低估了全体国民的庞大系统而忽略 你当然可以从被爱到被弃 回到被爱 再到被弃 街道将一言不发 那些曾经收留你的人将在他处 嘴里塞满讥笑小写的上帝 我已认输不管是什么样的小势力 拜托了我知道事情会再次变糟但我只是希望有多一点的时间往银行里塞钱多一点的时间来把我的事情安排好 但如果没有 如果这就是我要躺的坟墓那么请带走我剩下的一切 试试利用一个身体 一个生命不断的背叛我知道我太经常提出过多请求也知道这么经常寻求帮助会招来相反的结果但是这个请求 这只按着的手掌是要用来点燃我已成为的火焰仅剩的唯一希望
贝阿特丽齐作者：寒鸦斜阳将堕这时的光也包含了月亮树看着天伊望着树在画纸一一记录秋的神色风逐青鸟金与黑暗相交的土壤伊褪去红衫自肆扭动腰肢赤裸地笨拙地随着潮落熄灭在海洋Beatrice!毋要伊失去Beatrice!俏俐的心脏Beatricetranslated by PLSSun, slanted and about to fallLight from this momentAlso comprises the moonTrees stare at the skyShe at the treesOn the drawing paperTracing every color of fallWind chasing the blue birdSoil at the cusp Between gold and darkShe disrobed of her red dressWiggling haphazardlyNakedlyClumsilyVanished with the ebbInto the seaBeatrice!Don’t let her goBeatrice!Delightful heart
Churnby Ross MacKayThe poet in the north landsSits, mythologically Stirring time with a stick Churning it. Twisting it. Looking to see what spins and what sticks. Kneading memories together Into thick wet clumps that hang loosely And drip slowly from the stick Back into the syrup of time. 搅翻译：诗验室居住在北方的诗人坐着，神话般用一根棍子搅拌时间剧烈地搅着。旋着。看看什么会转，什么会粘。将记忆揉成又厚而湿的团块垂在棍子上缓缓地滴着返回时间之浆。
入场券作者：王心悦妈妈在入场券上又押了五块钱，一次又一次，它的寿命长过了这个家族，晚上人们躺在床上，它就啃噬旱年的稻米。一开始只是入场券，得到一张，进去的人也从不开口究竟有些什么，谎言和误解一代代传了下来，似乎只有进入一个动作，得到叙述。而事实是进入只是入场券，没有人会说这一点因为冷静（即使作为饰物出现）也是一种规则。被轻视的诅咒是真理，他们看见的是全部时间。更像宿命的另一个轮回，那是在入场券的世界，听见水声，由于和曾经的水流全然不同，于是走上更深的道路。握着入场券，越来越久，可是什么才是尽头呢？还是说，渴望那个许可、那标志，在源流中溺毙的时候，掩住尸首，有双翼的。Admission Tickettranslated by PLSMother bet five dollars on the admission ticketone time after another, its life expectancyoutgrew this family, at nightas people lay in bed, it started gnawingrice from the drought year.At first it’s just the admission ticketthere’s one ticket, people who entered never talkedabout what’s in there, lies and misunderstandingsfrom one generation to another, it seemed likeonly the act of entering, was interpreted.The truth was about enteringonly the admission ticket, nobody would talk about itbecause being calm (even as a decoration)was also part of the rule. Neglected cursewas the truth, what they witnessed was the entire time.More like another cycleof the destiny, that wasthe world of admissions, watery sounds heardbecause of flows never seen beforeon the way to a deeper path.Holding the admission ticket, for longer and longer,but what is really the end？or rather, longing for the permission, the sign,when drowned in the flowing water,there’re bodies to bury, with wings.
The Women in My Family by Erica HuThe women in my family wake at dawn,clad in shawls of a groggy sun. Clatters and clinks,in the kitchen, daylight sings. The women in my family,always catching the next departing train, have never seen the city.They recede into the crowd,shoulders against shoulders,chafing away their existence. The women in my family — they teach me to chase waves. In the sea of time,they clutch my tiny palm and wait for the ebb tide to let go. They know I must not stay. The women in my family never turn up as far and fast as they ache for,yet their staggers drag on, each day, a little further. Yet at midnight,their armors dissolve away.The women in my familyturn back intomothers, daughters, and wives. They lie in a wall-less cage, staring at freckles on the ceiling and swallowing,in their cocoon nightgowns, the unspoken words —the weight of living. The women in my family whisper into my ears every night as I drift to sleep.“You can have everything.” The night spearfishes my dreams. Only their chants echo,softly brushing the veinsof a dormant seed — every minute, a little longer. 我家的女人翻译：诗验室我家的女人天一亮就醒来，披着昏沉无力的阳光。吡呤啪啷，厨房里，日光吟唱。我家的女人，总是赶着下一班要开的列车，却从未见过城市。她们消失在人群中，肩并着肩，渐渐磨去自己的身影。我家的女人 —她们教我如何逐浪。在时间之洋中，她们紧紧牵着我的小手直到潮去时才愿意放手。她们知道我注定要离开。我家的女人没有自己想象中走得那么远、那么快，但她们仍然摇晃着向前，一天天，一点点。可是到了午夜，她们就卸下装备。我家的女人变回母亲、女儿和妻子。她们躺在无壁之笼内，望着天花板上的斑点蜷在自己的睡袍内，吞下那些未讲的话 —生活的重担。我家的女人每天在我进入梦乡时都会轻声对我说。“你可以拥有一切。”夜刺透我的梦。只有她们的吟唱仍在回荡，温柔地摩挲着一颗沉睡之种的血管每过一分钟，就会久一点。
问作者：陈陈相因撕下日历，时间好一把铡刀我旋进柳堤的周岁，迷茫不安地蹀躞足下走出一座拐弯抹角的园林我已糊涂地度过成年，雪藏的二十二像陷入湖心穴道的废舟中央浮光鳞集，我低落得像履冰失败的折戟在小满，唐突的飞鸟呼吸着绉纱花楸端出一树祥云，丁香腾起雅紫的篝火它们庆祝活着，庆祝巢群的香味未被使用无数的道路捆住了广场，亦绑架了我是谁把此刻的我们困锁在露珠抑郁的眼里桥洞啊，水面前永远执手，不断的门Questioningtranslated by PLSAnother page torn from the calendar, what a chopper time isI swivel into the willow bank’s anniversary, restlessly hovering aboutZigzagging a mesmerizing gardenI enter my adulthood bewildered, twenty-two years of being hiddenLike an abandoned boat sinking at the heart of a lakeLight floating and congregating, I am as blue as a broken spear failing to walk on iceOn Grain Buds*, swift birds breathing in heavy silkRowan wearing a crown of auspicious clouds, lilac dancing in a bonfire of purpleThey are celebrating being alive, and celebrating the unutilized fragrance of nestsUmpteen streets roping around the plaza, and seizing meWho’s locking us in the desolate eyes of dewOh the arches of bridge, hand in hand forever in the water, unbroken doors
