<h5><div align="center"><b>紐約【綜合新聞】841期</b></div><div align="center">主編：佩英</div><div align="center">總顧問：馬華勝</div><div align="center">總編：程朗</div></h5> 漢譯：佩英(Translated by Christine Chen) <h5>雷吉娜·雷斯塔，1955年生于意大利那不勒斯，詩人、作家、文化組織者。曾任教并長期服務(wù)于慈善機(jī)構(gòu)，創(chuàng)辦并主持文化欄目“Verbumlandia”，出版多部詩集，作品譯成多種語言。她獲“馬里奧·盧齊獎(jiǎng)”“世界和平詩歌獎(jiǎng)”等國際殊榮，2020年獲貝爾格萊德大學(xué)榮譽(yù)文學(xué)博士?，F(xiàn)任國際協(xié)會(huì)VerbumlandiArt主席、《VerbumPress》總監(jiān)，并主持“國際卓越獎(jiǎng)”“神圣女性”反性別暴力項(xiàng)目。</h5> <b>和平之劍</b><br><br>我所持之劍無鋒，<br>無尖刺，無鮮血，無傲慢——<br>它是沉默，勝過尖嘯；<br>是抉擇，燃盡虛偽。<br>它是投降，挑戰(zhàn)傲慢，<br>是危難之時(shí)仍選擇停留；<br>它是寬恕，深入那巖石般<br>令我們恐懼的傷口深處。<br>和平之劍是一道傷痕，<br>無需護(hù)盾，也不索復(fù)仇，<br>是鏡子映照敵人，<br>映出我早已疏離的面容。<br>它非風(fēng)平浪靜的膽怯，<br>而是良知走過痛楚；<br>顫抖之手敢于阻止<br>愛可能染上的一擊。<br>它是破除戰(zhàn)爭的武器，<br>而不摧毀大地；<br>它在智者夢中低語，<br>在受傷者心中沉睡。<br>它不強(qiáng)加，不呼喊，不咒罵，<br>它是最人性、最赤裸的聲音：<br>“我不毀滅，<br>我守護(hù)仍在每顆靈魂里<br>呼求正義之聲 <h5><b>The Weapon of Peace</b></h5><h5><br>It bears no edge, the sword I carry,<br>no point, no blood, no pride —<br>it is silence that defeats the scream,<br>the choice that burns away the lie.<br>It is surrender that challenges pride,<br>the staying when fleeing is near,<br>it is forgiveness that digs through the rocky<br>depth of the wound we fear.<br>The weapon of peace is a scar<br>that asks for no shield or revenge,<br>a mirror reflecting the enemy<br>with a face I’ve long estranged.<br>It is not calm that fears the storm,<br>but conscience walking through pain,<br>a trembling hand that dares to stop<br>the blow that love would stain.<br>It is the weapon that breaks all war<br>without breaking the earth,<br>that speaks in the dreams of the wise,<br>that sleeps in the hearts of the hurt.<br>It doesn’t impose, nor shout, nor swear.<br>It is the voice most human, most bare:<br>"I do not destroy,<br>but I keep alive<br>what in every soul<br>still cries<br>for justice."<br></h5> <b>神手</b><br><br>穹蒼深處，光影幽微，<br>有手徐降，自永恒來。<br>非血非石，非聲非色，<br>惟息惟火，自由無羈。<br>曾拂怒濤，人將溺兮，<br>負(fù)罪夢殤，沉沉不息。<br>弱者因之而起，荊棘因之而折，<br>沉寂忽有言，饑者忽有食。<br>它觸兵戈之原，亦撫寂寞之野，<br>在風(fēng)里書寫無邊靜寂。<br>若電擊，若雪撫，<br>無言無問，無怨無哀。<br>當(dāng)世人謂萬事已失，<br>當(dāng)黑暗橫行，不計(jì)其代價(jià)，<br>它仍在——在一舉一動(dòng)間，<br>在救贖之擁，在新生之信。<br>神手不求名，不計(jì)黃金，<br>不為顯赫，但棲仁心。<br>在含淚之眸，在日光之慰，<br>在至愛的靈魂，常得其居。<br>而我輩——卑影伏恩澤之下，<br>驚嘆而立，于脆弱人間。<br>縱一瞬擦肩，亦曾感受<br>那無形之觸——神圣而溫柔。<br> <h5><div><b>The Hand of God</b></div><div><br></div>In the heart of the sky, 'midst light and mystery,<br>a hand descends, slow, from eternity.<br>Not made of flesh, nor stone, nor sound,<br>but of pure breath, of fire unbound.<br>It brushes the waves where man may drown,<br>in guilt he bears, in dreams cast down.<br>It lifts the weak, breaks every thorn,<br>gives voice to silence, to hunger, corn.<br>It touched the fields of war and hush,<br>it wrote in winds a boundless hush.<br>It struck like lightning, soothed like snow,<br>without a question, a word, a woe.<br>And when we believe that all is lost,<br>that darkness reigns, no matter the cost,<br>there it is—within a different deed,<br>in the saving hug, in a blooming creed.<br>The Hand of God asks no acclaim,<br>weighs not gold, seeks not fame.<br>But finds its home in the loving soul,<br>in the tearful gaze, in the sun’s console.<br>And we, small shadows beneath its grace,<br>stand in awe, in this fragile place,<br>as we brush, though just for a while,<br>that unseen touch—divine and mild.<br></h5> <b>讓戰(zhàn)爭停下</b><br><br>讓戰(zhàn)爭停下。<br>每一聲槍響，<br>都是一塊陰影的生長，<br>一聲逐漸熄滅的呼喊，<br>一座化作灰燼的房屋。<br>戰(zhàn)爭沒有勝利者。<br>只有母親在長久等待，<br>面龐被歲月與火焰抹去，<br>只有孩子太早學(xué)會(huì)忍淚沉默。<br>爆炸之后的寂靜<br>比巨響更沉重。<br>那是書籍燃盡后的灰燼，<br>是空曠的教室，<br>是荒蕪而無收成的田野。<br>讓戰(zhàn)爭停下，<br>不是靠武器，<br>而是靠艱難的言語：<br>傾聽，尊重，寬恕。<br>火焰我們已經(jīng)見得太多，<br>此刻我們需要清泉與雨水。<br>尸骨我們已經(jīng)數(shù)得太多，<br>此刻我們需要建設(shè)的雙手，<br>需要一雙雙能看穿仇恨的眼睛。<br>讓戰(zhàn)爭停下。<br>就從這里開始。 <h5><div><b>Let's Stop the Wars</b></div><div><b><br></b></div>Let's stop the wars.<br>Every shot fired is a growing shadow,<br>a voice fading,<br>a house turning to dust.<br>There are no winners in war,<br>only mothers waiting,<br>faces erased by time and fire,<br>children learning too soon not to cry.<br>There is a silence, after the explosion,<br>that weighs more than the noise.<br>It’s the silence of burned books,<br>empty schools,<br>fields without harvest.<br>Let's stop the wars<br>not with weapons,<br>but with difficult words:<br>listening, respect, forgiveness.<br>We’ve already seen enough fire.<br>Now we need water.<br>We’ve already counted enough dead.<br>Now we need hands that build,<br>and eyes that look beyond the enemy.<br>Let’s stop the wars.<br>Let’s start from here.<br></h5> <h5><div><b>詩歌賞析：</b></div><div>這三首詩整體上呈現(xiàn)出雷吉娜·雷斯塔一以貫之的創(chuàng)作關(guān)懷：反對戰(zhàn)爭、追尋信仰、強(qiáng)調(diào)人類良知與靈魂的力量。它們雖主題相近，但表現(xiàn)手法、象征意象與語言氣質(zhì)各有差異?！逗推街畡?The Weapon of Peace》帶有宣言式力量，像是詩人對人類的道德告白。寓言感與哲理感極強(qiáng)，思想深刻；《神手 The Hand of God》強(qiáng)調(diào)人類的脆弱與對“神手”的依賴，使詩具有神秘感和精神慰藉。相比《和平之劍》的理性鋒利，《神手》顯得更溫柔、神秘、撫慰人心；《讓戰(zhàn)爭停下 Let's Stop the Wars》沒有太多象征，而是直接訴求，富有人道主義關(guān)懷，能在公眾場合引起強(qiáng)烈共鳴。這三首詩構(gòu)成了一個(gè)由哲理（和平之劍）、信仰（神手）、現(xiàn)實(shí)（讓戰(zhàn)爭停下）*的三重結(jié)構(gòu)，既有抽象的精神思考，又有超驗(yàn)的宗教寄托，更有落地的現(xiàn)實(shí)吶喊，展示了雷吉娜·雷斯塔作為詩人與文化活動(dòng)家的全面姿態(tài)。（佩英）</div><div><b>Editorials：</b></div><div>Regina Resta’s three poems reveal a sustained preoccupation with the central concerns of her oeuvre: a rejection of war, a quest for faith, and a steadfast emphasis on human conscience and the resilience of the soul. While thematically convergent, the poems diverge markedly in their techniques, symbolic registers, and tonal qualities.<br><br>The Weapon of Peace carries the force of a manifesto, a moral declaration addressed to humanity at large. Its allegorical sharpness and philosophical density render it a work of profound intellectual weight. By contrast, The Hand of God underscores the fragility of the human condition and its dependence upon divine intervention; here the language acquires an aura of mystery and offers spiritual consolation. Where The Weapon of Peace cuts with rational precision, The Hand of God consoles with gentleness, mystery, and a healing cadence. Let’s Stop the Wars, on the other hand, abandons elaborate symbolism in favor of direct appeal. Stripped to its essentials, it speaks with humanitarian urgency, designed to resonate with collective conscience and to echo powerfully in the public sphere.<br><br>Taken together, the three poems form a triptych—philosophy (The Weapon of Peace), faith (The Hand of God), and reality (Let’s Stop the Wars). Within this triadic structure, Resta moves fluidly from abstract speculation to transcendent religious invocation, and finally to a grounded outcry rooted in lived experience. The result is a portrait of the poet not only as a visionary but also as a cultural actor, one whose voice spans the realms of moral reflection, spiritual longing, and urgent social engagement.（ByChristineChen）</div></h5> <h5>喬治·馬里奧·安赫爾·金特羅（George Mario Angel Quintero）<br>1964年生于舊金山，哥倫比亞裔美國作家、詩人、劇作家、視覺藝術(shù)家。曾獲斯坦福大學(xué)華萊士·斯泰格納寫作獎(jiǎng)學(xué)金，以英文名 George Angel 出版詩歌、小說、隨筆及獲獎(jiǎng)短篇集 The Fifth Season。1995年起定居麥德林，以西語名 Mario Angel Quintero 出版詩集、戲劇與散文十余部，創(chuàng)辦帕爾帕多劇團(tuán)，作品譯為多國語言，并活躍于國際文藝節(jié)。</h5> <div><b>《寒時(shí)守望（木·膚·石的銘文）》詩歌集節(jié)選</b></div><div><b><br></b></div>星期四：耕護(hù)、清理、尋找光與水，束縛破損與挫傷。<br>星期五：感受宇宙：世界的尖端，從星辰到葉片所見，傾聽。<br>星期六：伸展、生長、挖掘，生命在我們體內(nèi)與彼此之間的不可思議推進(jìn)。參與生命，共同伸展。<br>星期日：慶祝時(shí)間如輪，多樣而豐盈。榮耀。<br>——獻(xiàn)給貝爾塔·內(nèi)莉·阿爾博萊達(dá)·魯伊斯 <h5><b>IN THIS COLD’S TENDING TIME</b><br>(scripts on wood, flesh, and stone)<br><br>Thursday: Tending, clearing away, finding the light and the water, binding the broken and bruised.<br>Friday: Feeling the cosmos: The tip of the world, what we see from star to leaf, listening.<br>Saturday: Extension, growth, digging, the incredible onward of living within us and between us. Participation in living. Together extending.<br>Sunday: Celebration that time is a wheel, multiform in its production. Glory<br></h5> <b>一．耕護(hù)<br></b><br>讀一個(gè)詞的倒影，<br>竟像要讀透鳥鳴。<br>膽怯者將如何安放？<br>風(fēng)險(xiǎn)又何處停駐？<br>邊緣最先被播下，<br>被買來的身體拔出，<br>是把呼吸的身體放進(jìn)。<br>我問自己：能否傾聽？<br>能否一直傾聽——<br>直至聲音融化？<br>書頁被劃作田地，<br>汁液在邊界處膨脹。<br>膝蓋彎下，<br>鋒刃筑成柵欄，<br>障礙隨之滋生。<br>肌肉在骨上扭結(jié)，<br>手杖遲到，<br>跛行勉強(qiáng)與膏藥妥協(xié)。<br>關(guān)節(jié)是觸角，<br>在春天調(diào)頻。<br>冬天只剩靜電，<br>白色噪聲。<br>關(guān)節(jié)、銜接、折疊，<br>皆為阻滯，<br>一個(gè)阻滯的網(wǎng)絡(luò)。<br>當(dāng)泥土干透，<br>掘開它。<br>清風(fēng)可避，<br>水源要近，<br>光要平穩(wěn)，<br>土要疏松。<br>待第一片真葉顯露，<br>翻譯它，<br>抬頭，間苗。<br>在這寒冷的耕護(hù)時(shí)光，<br>手指如卷須纏繞寒枝，<br>拳中捧著新生的球莖。<br>它們終將化作糧食，<br>從大地星群般的喧響里<br>被撫起。<br>我們以專注穿過盲目，<br>以鐵鍬松開深厚的壓實(shí)。<br>這冷時(shí)光<br>有從季節(jié)之輪跌落的危險(xiǎn)。<br>于是我們醒來去耕護(hù)。<br>耕護(hù)是關(guān)照，<br>關(guān)照是回應(yīng)，<br>是為光、風(fēng)、水與綠意<br>清出一方空間。<br>鳥已歸來嗎？<br>蜜蜂是否待飛？<br>蚯蚓能安眠否？<br>寒意可否重返深土？<br>白色乳液裹覆創(chuàng)口，<br>石灰與水抵御蟲蛀。<br>裂縫被捆縛，<br>脆弱之下楔入支撐。<br>那曾召來的拐杖，<br>如今只化作虛影，<br>高懸于前行之上。 <h5><b>I. TENDING</b><br><br>The difficulty of reading the word "warbling" backwards.<br><br>What about the timid?<br>What about the risk?<br>The fringe, the margin is the first thing planted.<br>Taking the bought body out of it<br>Is putting the breathed body into it.<br>Ask myself: Can I listen? Can I listen?<br>Until my voice melts away.<br>Delimit the page for planting.<br>Swelling as one of the effects<br>Of delimited juiciness.<br>Oh my bended knee.<br>The edge has been used to fence,<br>To grow an obstacle.<br>The muscles gnarl about the bone.<br>The cane arrives late at the compromise that is the hobble,<br>second fiddle to the poultice.<br>Coyuntural<br>Articulaciones<br>Antennae to tune in Spring.<br>Winter is bad reception, static, white noise.<br>Winter is a stoppage.<br>The body's bendy parts, it's joints, it's dovetailing, are stoppages.<br>Network of stoppages.<br><br>Worked when dry enough to dig<br>Worked with enough time <br>to be taken back down into.<br>Find the light.<br>Better if its level,<br>sure soil drains.<br>Water near.<br>Provide refuge from the wind.<br>Clear what’s above away,<br>Tend the soil,<br>Break it up.<br>Bring nutrients<br>not compacted.<br>Several hours’ worth of light<br>Warmth and water.<br>Wait through germination,<br>translate at first true leaves.<br>Head and thin.<br><br>In this cold's tending time,<br>when our fingered tendrils<br>curl about cold limbs<br>in fists of new-knuckled tubers, bulbed, <br>that later feed returns,<br>caressed from the ground’s constellate noise.<br><br>We thread the harsh blindness<br>with attentiveness. We dig<br>to soften the deep denseness,<br>packed by aimless trudging.<br><br>This cold time <br>is in danger of falling <br>off the wheel of seasons. <br><br>We awaken to tend to it. <br>To tend is to care for. <br>To care for <br>is to lavish <br>attention <br>on something <br>and respond subtly <br>to help it restore itself. <br><br>Subtle gestures <br>clear a space for <br>light, air, water, and greening.<br><br>Are there birds here yet?<br>Will they be ready to go on?<br>Are the bees ready to buzz forth?<br>Can the worms rest now?<br>Is it time to begin folding up the clouds?<br>Has the chill received permission <br>to slip back into the deep earth?<br><br>White latex<br>wound-dressing<br>knee-high knee-high. <br>Lime and water,<br>hard against borers.<br>Bound from splits and cracks,<br>wedged ‘neath brittle,<br>when awaited retention<br>called forth a crutch<br>now but a blur aloft<br>above further walking.<br></h5> <h5><div><b>詩歌賞析：</b></div><div>喬治·馬里奧·安赫爾·金特羅（George Mario Angel Quintero）【耕護(hù)】是一首寓意深厚、層次繁復(fù)的作品。它將農(nóng)業(yè)的耕種與護(hù)理轉(zhuǎn)化為關(guān)于身體、傷口、關(guān)照與存在的隱喻，語言既充滿質(zhì)感，也帶著哲思。把農(nóng)耕經(jīng)驗(yàn)轉(zhuǎn)化為詩學(xué)隱喻，將自然、生理與存在融為一體。語言中既有冷冽的質(zhì)感（“鋒刃”“阻滯”“靜電”），也有撫慰的溫情（“拳中捧著新生的球莖”“白色乳液裹覆創(chuàng)口”）；<br>最終提出“耕護(hù)是關(guān)照，關(guān)照是回應(yīng)”，賦予詩篇一種倫理哲學(xué)的終極落點(diǎn)。它不是純抒情的詩，而是一種寓言式、沉思式的詩歌，既像是農(nóng)事的記錄，也像是一種存在論的冥想。（佩英）</div><div><b>Editorials：</b></div><div>George Mario Angel Quintero’s Cultivation and Care is a symbolically rich and layered poem that reimagines agricultural labor as a metaphor for the body, wounds, and existence. It fuses natural, physiological, and ontological dimensions, balancing austerity (“blade,” “obstruction,” “static”) with tenderness (“fingers cradling a newborn bulb,” “white latex covering the wound”). The culminating assertion that “cultivation is care, care is response” situates the poem within an ethical-philosophical horizon. More than lyrical expression, it unfolds as allegory and meditation, at once a record of agrarian practice and an ontological reflection.（By Christine Chen)</div></h5>