All creatures great and small
Issue 3
Keith
with apologies to Christopher Smart & Jeoffry
For I will consider my son’s hamster, Keith.
For at the first glance of the glory of his dish being filled he worships in his way.
For this is done by filling his pouches with elegant quickness
with a total of 6 brazil nuts, 12 hazelnuts, or 16 peanuts.
For having done duty and received blessing he begins to consider himself.
For first he looks upon his forepaws to see if they are clean.
For secondly he kicks sawdust out of his cage all over the carpet.
For there is nothing sweeter than his peace when at rest.
For there is nothing brisker than his life when in motion.
For God has blessed him in the variety of his movements.
For, though he cannot fly, he is an excellent squeezer
and goes in quest of food, even under the floorboards.
For he will do destruction, although well fed, most particularly upon electrical wiring.
For on the carpet he is Tiger, chaser of undefended feet,
to which he is magnet-drawn, despite peril to himself.
For he is an instrument for the children to learn benevolence upon—
although that does not extend as far as cleaning out his cage.
For should he meet another hamster he would beat seven bells out of it (so it is good
that he doesn’t).
For when our day’s work is done his business more properly begins.
For he counteracts the powers of darkness by running on his wheel.
For in his morning devotions he twangs the bars between his teeth.
For he is tenacious of his point.
For he can bite.
by Dorothy Yamamoto
Dorothy Yamamoto grew up in Barnet, north London, where her Japanese father and English mother settled after the war. That divided background is the source of many of her poems. She now lives in Oxford, where she helps to run two local poetry groups and organizes readings and poetry workshops. She works as a freelance editor and writes non-fiction books about animals as well as poetry (for example, Guinea Pig and Wild Boar, both published by Reaktion Books).
Dorothy’s first collection, Landscape with a Hundred Bridges (Blinking Eye Publishing), was published in 2007. Since then she has edited Hands & Wings, an anthology in aid of the charity Freedom from Torture, and her pamphlet Honshū Bees (Templar Poetry) came out in spring 2018.
Chinese translation:
基斯
向克里斯多福·史瑪特和傑弗瑞道歉
因為我會考慮我兒子的倉鼠基斯。
因為當他第一眼看到他盤子滿載的榮耀時，他以他的方式敬拜。
因為這是以優雅的迅捷塞滿他的小袋子來完成的，
合共有 6 個巴西堅果、12 個榛果或 16 顆花生。
因為盡了職責並得到了祝福，他開始考慮自己。
因為首先，他檢查自己的前爪是否乾淨。
因為其次，他把籠子裡的木屑踢得滿地毯皆是。
因為沒有什麼比他休息時的平安更甜蜜的了。
因為沒有什麼比運動中的生命更輕快的了。
因為上帝祝福他的千姿百態。
因為，儘管他不會飛，卻是個出色的擠壓者，
甚至在地板下尋找食物。
因為儘管他吃飽了，他仍會搞破壞，尤其是針對電線。
因為在地毯上他是老虎，無防備的腳的追逐者，
儘管這對他而言是危險的，但卻像磁石般把他吸過去。
因為他是孩子學習仁愛的媒介——
儘管這還沒有達到清理他的籠子的程度。
因為如果他遇到另一隻倉鼠，他會暴打他一頓（所以他沒有遇到是件好事）。
因為當我們一天的工作完成後，他的工作就更好地開始。
因為他藉著在奔輪子來抵消黑暗的力量。
因為在早晨的靈修中，他會嚙鐵柵欄。
因為他固執己見。
因為他會咬人。
My Poppy Dog
Then
Circle runner
Squirrel chaser
Feet tapper
Fence jumper
Lead puller
Now
Slow ambler
Person follower
Leg wobbler
Bed sleeper
Reassurance seeker
Always
Food consumer
Comfort quester
Curious sniffer
Wet noser
Joyous welcomer
by Maureen Boon
Chinese translation:
我的狗狗波比
以前
跑圈圈者
松鼠追逐者
踢踏者
跳圍欄者
拉繩者
現在
慢步者
跟人者
腿晃動者
床上睡者
尋求安撫者
永遠
食物消耗者
舒適追求者
好奇嗅探者
濕鼻者
歡樂迎人者
'My name is Maureen Boon and I am a writer based in Devon in the U.K. I live in the countryside with my husband and dogs. I enjoy writing about nature and my dogs. My poem about Poppy was written only a few months before she passed away. She was a beautiful lurcher who I adopted from an animal rescue centre.
I have written books about dyspraxia, children’s stories, short stories and poems. My website is maureenboonwriter.com and I have a YouTube channel called ‘Maureen Boon’ where I read my children’s stories.'
蝸牛村
The Snail Village
（1）
蝸牛慢著步履
請歲月先走
牠們生成日落的地址
在星空下集村
The snails snail
and let time go first.
Born into sunset’s abode,
they cluster in a village under a starry sky.
（2）
雨停
月亮從蝸牛村升起
蝸牛探出觸角
盤點星星
The rain stopped.
The moon rose over the snail village.
Tentatively the snails counted
the stars with their tentacles.
（3）
失眠的蝸牛數著村子裡熟睡的蝸牛
將牠們的夢連成一節一節的車廂
像印象派畫廊
午夜的風景
在原地前進
The sleepless snails counting the sleeping snails,
joining their dreams carriage by carriage.
A gallery of impressionist paintings.
The midnight landscape
moves on in the same spot.
然靈 (by Ran Ling)
translated from the Chinese by Florence Ng
Ran Ling graduated with a master's degree in Chinese from Providence University. She has worked as an editor and a part-time instructor at university. She now works as a writer and an illustrator. She is the author of two collections of poems.
They Make Me Laugh
I saw a collared dove once
impersonating a barn owl –
they all do that, nicking each other’s songs …
Then the swan, swooping down to land on the river,
dragging and slapping
in noisy faked panic
like a first-time amateur on water skis,
wobbling and skidding on touchdown
just as it had always planned.
The strutting little wren, the cocky robin;
the fretful oystercatcher –
convinced that the food will run out.
They make me laugh.
And the heron, pretending to be losing its fight against gravity,
dragging itself upwards in victory,
its Bobby Charlton comb-over whipping across its head.
Jackdaws too,
squabbling over rights to roof moss.
But it’s the long-tailed tits:
tiny puffs of pink and grey,
fluffy shuttlecocks,
back and forth in gangs between bush and tree,
in fear of missing out.
They’re the ones that make me smile.
by Sean McSweeney
Sean McSweeney has written for the stage on and off, and has had fiction published by www.cutalongstory.com.
Chinese translation:
牠們讓我發笑
我曾經看過一隻斑鳩
模仿穀倉貓頭鷹——
牠們都這樣做，偷取對方的歌……
然後是天鵝俯衝降落在河上，
拖拉拍打，
鬧哄哄裝作驚恐，
就像初次滑水的業餘愛好者，
著地時搖晃和打滑，
正如牠一直計劃的那樣。
昂首闊步的小鷦鷯，趾高氣揚的知更鳥；
煩躁的蠣鷸——
確信食物會吃光。
牠們讓我發笑。
還有蒼鷺，假裝輸掉與引力的爭戰，
在勝利中奮力向上，
博比·查爾頓的旁分髮掠過牠的頭。
寒鴉亦然，
為屋頂苔蘚的享用權爭吵。
惟獨是長尾山雀：
粉紅和灰色的小泡芙，
毛茸茸的羽毛球，
成群結隊地在灌木叢和樹木之間穿梭，
唯恐錯失甚麼。
牠們才是會讓我微笑的傢伙。
lament for trumpets
through the jungle through the fire along the long long road
we walk and we walk we walk
forward forward
in the heat
past the smoke
towards the rainy plain
and we keep going forward
trunk to tail no one left behind
we breathe as one
we march
towards the rain
such a heavy past bears down on us
but we walk forwards onwards
despite the grief despite the weight of what we lost
we walk forward towards the rain
we are dusty we are hot we are ready for the rain
for the water for the sea
we are ready for relief
to arrive but until such time we walk
towards the rain
towards the rain
towards the rainy plain
by Laura Theis
Laura Theis grew up in Germany and writes poems, stories and songs in her second language. She is the author of how to extricate yourself (Dempsey&Windle) which was selected as the winner of the 2020 Brian Dempsey Memorial Prize. Her work has been widely anthologised, and appears in journals such as Rattle, Strange Horizons, and Mslexia. An AM Heath Prize recipient and current Elgin Award nominee, she has also won the Hammond House International Literary Award for Poetry, the Mogford Short Story Prize and was shortlisted for over twenty other international literary awards including the 2021 Alpine Fellowship .
Chinese translation:
大象哀歌
穿過叢林穿過火海沿著長長的路
我們走著我們走著我們走著
向前向前
在炎熱中
經過煙霧
走向下雨的平原
我們繼續前進
鼻子貼尾巴沒有一個掉隊
我們一體呼吸
我們行進
朝著雨
如此沉重的過去壓在我們身上
但我們前行走下去
儘管悲傷，儘管我們失去的很沉重
我們向前向著雨走去
我們灰頭土臉我們很熱我們準備好迎接雨
迎接水迎接海洋
我們已經為解脫
的來臨準備好但直到那天我們會一直走著
朝著雨
朝著雨
朝著下雨的平原
I want to be a cat
After Selima Hill
I want to be a cat
and not chase after anyone.
I want to be a cat
and still come to comfort those deserving.
I want to feel free to rub against your legs.
I want to be a cat who goes to places
where nobody knows, then slinks back home
like a shadow against a wall,
a cat who meows expecting you
to give her what she wants, and you do.
I want to be a cat,
her quietness held to high regard,
able to lie down and bask in her own glory
whose territory is marked with claws
that can give a light scratch
as much as a deep cut,
can draw blood
like paint on a canvas,
skin scarred: to make a mark.
They say everybody wants to be one.
If I were a cat I’d be a bengal;
wild and fun-loving, exploring
and investigating, arguing
until the cows come home. Standing
out from the crowd in spots
and stripes from leopard ancestry.
Don’t come looking for me.
Don’t come walking into the shadows,
with a torchlight and nepeta cataria.
Don’t pin up signs with my mugshot.
Don’t call those who try to own me.
Don’t put out tins of meat for when I come home:
I’m not coming home.
I’m going to be the cat that walked by herself.
by Carmina Masoliver
Carmina Masoliver is a poet from south London, and founder of She Grrrowls feminist arts nights. Her small chapbook was published by Nasty Little Press in 2014. Her latest book Circles is published by Burning Eye Books (2019) and is an illustrated long-form poem, and she recently self-published Selected Poems: 2007 – 2012, a mixed media pamphlet of poems. Her poetry has also been featured in publications such as Popshot Magazine, The Rialto and Brittle Star. Carmina was long-listed for the Young Poet Laureate for London award in 2013, the inaugural Jerwood Compton Poetry Fellowships in 2017, the Out-Spoken Prize in Performance Poetry in 2018 and the Grindstone International Poetry Prize in 2020. Alumni of the Roundhouse Poetry Collective, she has featured at nights such as Bang Said the Gun, and festivals including Latitude, Bestival and Lovebox. She performed internationally whilst living abroad, in Singapore, and in Spain. www.carminamasoliver.com I/F: @carminamasoliver T: @CarminaPoetry
Chinese translation:
我想當一隻貓
向塞利瑪山致敬
我想當一隻貓，
不追趕任何人。
我想當一隻貓，
仍會來安慰值得安慰的人。
我想隨意蹭你的腿。
我想當一隻貓，
去無人知道的地方，然後偷偷溜回家，
就像牆上的影子，
一隻喵喵叫著等你
給她她想要的東西的貓，而你也這樣做。
我想當一隻貓，
她的安靜被高度重視，
能夠躺下來沉浸在自己的榮耀中，
其領地以爪子標記，
既可給予輕微的刮痕，
亦可深深一𠝹；
可以見血，
就像在畫布上作畫一樣，
皮膚留疤：做記號。
他們說每個人都想當其中一員。
如果我是貓，我會是一隻孟加拉豹貓；
野性，貪玩，喜探索
和調查，爭辯不休
直到牛牛都回家去。挺立
在群體之中，
身披承襲自豹子血統的斑紋。
別來找我。
別帶著手電筒和貓薄荷
走進陰影。
別張貼我的大頭照。
別打電話給那些試圖擁有我的人。
別擺出給我回家的罐罐：
我不會回家。
我要當那隻自走我路的貓。
Bastet
What are these siren voices
my cat hears
when I hear silence?
She detects the rustle of ants,
the utter stillness of the frog,
frozen as a dry leaf.
She dances to the music of the spheres.
She watches as I trip,
reflected in steel emerald camera eyes.
A photographer recording each stumble,
pot shattered,
violas spread like broken coloured glass.
She idly stretches her paws
on the afternoon grass
and in slow motion
curls her body, snail impersonating,
to doze.
She notes that I swipe off midges,
glare with fury at weeds that come up from nowhere,
that I wish for another garden,
an Italian oasis of box and juniper.
She relishes the clammy soil,
the catnip and rotten apple cores,
the massed confusion of scents.
She knows
the creature reflected in pond water
is preserved in golden temples,
half feline half female,
that there are other beings
whose purpose is to open tins and pour milk
as if they have free will.
There is a life force in her still,
a hedonism,
even if blurred by age and habit,
an anarchy
of wild strikes and sabotage.
We lived by a city churchyard,
heretic washing hung out.
She sat statuesque on tombstones,
staring through picnicking priests.
She is a fluent speaker of disdain,
busy with the day’s distractions,
then gazing through the misted window,
she washes behind, impervious to impropriety,
content in her selfhood.
by Janet Sillet
Janet Sillett took up writing poems again recently after decades away. She has had poems and short fiction published in the Galway Advertiser, Litro, Poetry Plus magazine and Spilling Cocoa over Matin Amis. She works for a local government think tank in London.
Chinese translation:
巴斯特
是什麼警笛聲
我的貓聽到
而我卻只聽到寂靜？
她偵察到螞蟻的沙沙聲，
如同冰凍的枯葉似的
青蛙的徹底靜默。
她隨著天體的音樂起舞。
她看著我絆倒，
映照在她鋼鐵綠的相機眼睛裡。
記錄每一次絆倒，
鍋子碎裂，
堇菜像碎彩色玻璃鋪開的攝影師。
在午後的草地上
她懶洋洋地舒展爪子
並以慢動作
捲曲身體，模仿蝸牛
打瞌睡。
她注意到我揮走蠓蟲，
怒瞪著不知從何而來的雜草，
希望有另一個花園，
一片黃楊樹和杜松樹的意式綠洲。
她享受濕膩的土壤，
貓薄荷和爛蘋果芯，
一堆混亂的氣味。
她知道
池塘水中倒映的生靈
保存在金色的寺廟裡，
半貓半女，
還有其他生物
其用途是打開罐頭和倒牛奶
彷彿他們有自由意志。
她依然生命力充沛，
一種享樂主義，
即使因高齡和習慣而變得模糊，
一種無政府的
狂打和破壞。
我們住在城市教堂墓地旁邊，
異教徒洗過的衣物掛出來。
她雕像般地坐在墓碑上，
目光穿透野餐的神父。
她能流利地表達蔑視，
整天為瑣事忙著，
然後凝視蒙上水氣的窗外，
她在窗後洗澡，懶理不當行為，
滿足於她的自我。
Cazador
The curled white tip of his long black tail
flashes above the long grass, as he chases
squirrels and dreams of deer.
I see ancient moors and conquistadors
on Andalusian horses waiting,
as beaters and hounds drive their prey.
His long nose and pointed ears
mark him haughty as any aristocrat
and he runs so fast no-one would know
his leg was broken before he was two.
Some hunters in Spain do this so a dog can’t follow them home.
Are you homesick cazador?
Your dark eyes not yet meeting ours,
how will our eager kindness contrast
with your arid adolescence?
*'Cazador' is Spanish for 'hunter'
by Barbara Meredith
'I'm a retired social worker living by the beach in Shoreham by Sea, on the southern English coast.
I’ve arrived late to poetry and enjoyed some small success; with several commended competition and anthology entries.'
Chinese translation:
卡薩多爾
他長長的黑尾巴上捲曲的白色尖端
在長草叢上閃爍，他正追逐
松鼠和鹿的夢。
我看到古老的高沼和征服者
在安達盧西亞馬上等待著，
趕出獵物的人和獵犬正驅趕獵物。
他的長鼻子和尖耳朵
標示出他身為貴族的傲慢，
而且他跑得那麼快，竟無人知道
他兩歲前就摔斷了腿。
西班牙的一些獵人這樣做是為了防止狗跟著他們回家。
你想家了嗎卡薩多爾？
你的黑眼睛還沒有與我們的對上，
我們熱切的仁慈將如何
與你乾旱的青春對比？
*「Cazador」(卡薩多爾) 在西班牙文中是「獵人」的意思。
迎
三舅
最後需要住到
外公在廣州留下的
老舊的房子
努力把舊沙發刷得新淨
如果有人到來可以安心坐下
洗手間安上可以識別聲音的燈
照亮夜晚上洗手間的路
有次看到他養了些許金魚
養了算命說的指定數目和顏色
他們游到魚缸這邊
我朝着魚缸玻璃輕拍一下
他們就熟練地反身退開
後一年回去金魚消失了
可這次換了一條狗。
他第一次看到趨近的我
已經撲過來繾綣
我那幾天跟三舅出外
又摸黑回家
他都重覆一次
每次都纏得緊緊的
有次回家打開門
四周卻靜靜的
有沒感到
有團毛茸茸的東西
打腳邊竄走？
三舅衝進房子，在廚房找到他
他找到其實不應該打開的門
進去打破一些空啤酒瓶
然後把自己困在那裹
明天我們就往附近的小商店
買一些球，不會太大
又不會太小，能彈卻不太彈
在家中客廳這一邊
把球滾向他，然後
讓他把球含着
跑回來，把球給回我們
讓我們再來一次
這樣足夠讓他感到饒有興味。
葉英傑
Greet
My uncle
finally needed to live in
the old house in Guangzhou
left by grandpa
He tried hard to refurbish the old sofa
for everyone to sit at ease
and installed a voice-recognition light in the toilet
to illuminate the way at night
I have seen him keep some goldfish
Both number and color were specified by the fortune teller
They swam towards my side of the fish jar
I gave the glass a gentle tap
They turned around skillfully to retreat
Those goldfish had disappeared when I went back one year later
This time it was a dog
I came close and he saw me for the first time
He was drawn to me and twirled around me already
I went out with my uncle in those few days
and went home at night
He lingered near me
repeatedly and tightly
We once went home and opened the door
The house was dead silent
Did you feel
something furry
had scurried away from our feet?
My uncle rushed into the house and found him in the kitchen
He found the door that shouldn’t be opened
entered the kitchen and broke some empty beer bottles
then got stuck inside
We’ll go to the nearby shops tomorrow
to buy a few balls, not too big
and not too small, with perfect bounce
We’ll roll a ball towards him
across the living room, then
let him hold the ball
run back and give the ball to us
Let’s try again
It’s enough to create great fun for him
by Yip Ying Kit
translated from the Chinese by Sui Ping
Yip Ying Kit was born in Hong Kong. He won the 19th, 20th, 21st, 22nd and 24th Youth Literary Award, as well as the Awards for Creative Writing in Chinese in 2000 and 2010. His poetry collection Life as a Bystander won the 15th Hong Kong Biennial Awards for Chinese Literature. He blogs at http://www.poetyip.com. His work has appeared in Voice & Verse Poetry Magazine, Hong Kong Literary, Tai Tau Choi Literature Monthly Magazine, Qiu Ying Shi Kan, etc. A member of Wo Men Poetry Society, he has published five poetry collections. His sixth collection will be published in 2021.
Sui Ping is a poet, poetry translator, copywriter and traveller who was born and raised in Hong Kong. Her poems have appeared in several magazines like Voice & Verse Poetry Magazine, Off the Roll, Poetry+ and Qiu Ying Shi Kan, etc. Between 2012 and 2017, she was one of the editors of Voice & Verse Poetry Magazine. She received the Youth Literature Award (Poetry) in 2004 and 2005. Currently, she’s working on a creative project called 'Poetic Cuisine'.
