诗人曰：透过你的喉咙发现我的朝圣之路

海外文苑

<h5>美国纽约【综合新闻】851期。New York "Compact News" published on edition 851( translated by Christine Chen.</h5> <h5>美国纽约【综合新闻】852期。New York "Compact News" published on edition 852( translated by Christine Chen).</h5> <h5>达伦·卡玛利（Daren Kamali），斐济裔多重血统诗人、音乐人，1992年移居新西兰。著有四部诗集，新作《我不是你的椰子》将于2026年出版。获2022新西兰太平洋遗产艺术奖，曾任夏威夷与爱荷华大学驻校作家，现为新西兰创意艺术委员会美拉尼西亚艺术发展计划主任。</h5> 蓝牙之祸 ——献给维提 我原以为蓝牙，只是分享信号的热点—— 如今成了针头的暗语， 血液在体内外流转， 一人注入另一人， 冰毒点燃幻觉的火。 笑岛已不再微笑， 成了罪与病的群礁。 艾滋蔓延， 注射器躺在街角、村园、议会外草地， 瘾者把梦推入静脉， 眼中空无一物， 微笑像死。 一个被僵尸充斥的国度—— 他们的爱不属于彼此， 而属于那支毒针。 长辈纵容，父母推手， 盗窃、强暴、杀戮接连， 精神崩塌成常态。 十岁的孩子死去， 女人为一针出卖灵魂。 男人破门掠子， 街上饥饿游魂。 圣歌成堕天使的悲吟， 连教堂都回荡绝望。 联合国发出急讯， 在太平洋十字路口， 呼唤救援。 噫——我的维提， 你像个被殴至泥中的逆子， 苏瓦苍老疲惫， 人民在幻觉与现实间撕裂。 无母，无父， 一场又一场瘟疫之后， 仍摸索希望的门。 啊，看你受苦何其痛。 让我们携手， 驱除这笼罩热带的巨恶， 掘出深坑之底的自己， 截断从海外渗来的冰脉。 除去这“蓝牙之毒”， 净化青年血脉， 重建身体，清明心智， 让爱与怜悯重回岛屿。 再教育众人—— 让他们知裂解之害， 知艾可治， 知太平洋的孩子 该重新找回 <div>那古老而正直的路。</div><div> </div><div>Blue-Tooth-thing For Viti I only heard of Bluetooth as hot spot – To share mobile data. Bluetooth-thing is a thing – A wordplay for needle sharing – Blood extraction and Transmission – From one person to another - Shooting crystal meth - to get high. Methamphetamine pandemic - On the rise – In the Isles of Smiles Now Isles of crime and sickness. Our island faces - A rapid spread of HIV and AIDS – Highest in Asia-Pacific. Syringes and needles - Found on streets – In community centres and village gardens. Outside parliament grounds – They shoot-up – Into the arms of lost ones - Smile on their faces with vacant eyes – No one home. An island nation filled with zombies. Their love is not for each other – It is for this horrific drug – Encouraged by elders – Pushed by parents. Committed to theft, rape and murder – All suffering together from mental health – The new norm is to inject till death – They can’t help themselves. 10-11-12 year olds – dying - Women’s minds frying – Turning tricks to get that next fix – They will do anything, and I mean anything. Men - smashing down doors – Snatching our kids – Loitering the streets – With nothing to eat. Their sermons so profound – Even in churches they can be found - Choir of fallen angels’ voices echoes – From the underground. A situation so dire – The United Nations respond – To an urgent call for help – In Oceania’s crossroads. Isa lei noqu Viti – You’re like a disobedient child – Beaten to the pulp – Dragging yourself through the mud. Suva looks so sick and tired - Old and worn – Your people are torn – Between reality and a dark place. It’s like you don’t have a mother – You’re not part of the human race - One pandemic – after another – Nor a father to guide you through – The gates of hope. What a struggle to see you suffer. We must work together to acknowledge this topic – To rid ourselves of this great evil – That has over-shadowed the tropics. Work together to dig ourselves out – Of this bottomless pit – To get rid of dealers trafficking P from overseas – Pushing Ice to our off springs. Rid ourselves of this Blue Tooth-thing - Contaminating our youths’ veins. We must rebuild our young bodies – Get rid of this Bluetooth-thing - Clear our minds and revitalize our children’s brains – Rebuild love and compassion into this nation again. To re-educate our people on the effects of crack – Knowing that HIV and AIDS can be cured – And to realize that our Pacific nation – Need to get back on track – To the old way – The way the world should be. </div><div> </div><div> </div><div>糖，并不甜 ——致糖奴史：*埃莎伊·皮莱和奎希莉·查兰</div><div> 世上那庞大的糖业帝国， 没有一丝甜。 太平洋的糖史，不甜。 加勒比的糖史，不甜。 糖如何抵达印度——中国——南美——与不列颠， 依旧，不甜。 殖民的历史，不甜。 侵略国的奴隶贩卖，不甜。 从哥伦布到库克与戈登—— 不甜。 被贩的契约劳工与黑鸟工， 不甜。 掠地与灭族，不甜。 驱逐、瘟疫与强迫改宗，不甜。 孩子被夺离母怀、不归部落—— 不甜。 至今仍在我们血脉中搏动的创伤与暴力， 不甜。 跨大西洋奴隶贸易积的财富，不甜。 贩卖与流放百万灵魂所得的利润，不甜。 1833年废奴法案赔偿的金银，不甜—— 那金银竟归前奴主之手， 为他们“失去的收入”抚恤， 怎会甜？ 澳洲、新西兰、斐济的奴糖剥削， 不甜。 澳洲殖民制糖厂的辉煌，不甜。 新西兰北岸切尔西糖厂的洁白，不甜。 斐济“糖城”契约劳工的血汗， 不甜。 世上糖业的帝国史， 无一粒甜。 糖—— 并不甜。</div><div> 译者注：</div><div>两位斐济印度裔艺术家与社会行动者，以纺织艺术、装置艺术与诗性叙述探讨殖民历史、契约劳工（Girmitiyas）记忆、以及女性在奴役与流放中的创伤与抗争。</div><div> </div><div>There’s… Nothing Sweet about Sugar --Sugar Slavery: Eshay Pillay & Quishile Charan There’s… Nothing sweet about the sugar empire of the world. Nothing sweet about the history of sugar in the Pacific. Nothing sweet about the history of sugar in the Caribbean. Nothing sweet about how sugar got to India – China – South America and Britian. There’s… Nothing sweet about the history of colonisation. Nothing sweet about the slave trade by invading nations. Nothing sweet from Christopher Columbus to James Cook and Aurther Gorden. Nothing sweet about trafficking Girmitiyas and Black Birders. There’s… Nothing sweet about stealing land and committing genocide. Nothing sweet about enforcing displacement, spreading diseases and forcing conversions. Nothing sweet about stealing children away from their families and communities. Nothing sweet about the impact of traumas and violence seen in our people today. There’s… Nothing sweet about wealth accumulated from the Transatlantic Slave Trade. Nothing sweet about profits made from dehumanising and displacing millions of people. Nothing sweet about wealth compensation from the Slavery Abolition Act in 1833. Nothing sweet that this wealth went to former slave owners for “loss of income”. There’s… Nothing sweet about sugar slavery and exploitation in Australia, New Zealand and Fiji. Nothing sweet about the Colonial Sugar Refinery Company in Australia. Nothing sweet about Chelsea Sugar in the North Shore of New Zealand. Nothing sweet about indentured labour in the Sugar City of Fiji. There’s… Nothing sweet about the history of the sugar empire of the world. Nothing sweet…</div> 耶稣，是太平洋岛人吗？ 在那木质十架上—— 岛屿的耶稣被钉， 木钉穿透手腕， 双臂交叉于头上， 陈列于世。 太平洋之路上—— 漂流的灵魂充斥海面， 被收集、被偷取、被掠夺、被借走， 从时间深处取来——再未归还。 太平洋之路， 是一部“掠夺史”， 被收藏者、商人与偷渡客携往异乡， 玻璃橱柜中陈列着他们的踪迹。 海洋的珍宝环绕， 岛屿的耶稣立于中央， 他象征法加尼·圣克里斯托瓦尔—— 所罗门群岛的历史杰作， 在被收藏的遗物中哭泣。 岛屿的耶稣， 并非被钉在十字架上—— 而是钉在一截原木。 我疑惑，我祈祷—— 主啊， 你的血是否如洪水奔腾？ 你的泪是否汇成太平洋？ 我从未听闻， 也未曾见过—— 如此肤色的耶稣， 如此岛屿的耶稣。 Was Jesus Christ a Pacific Islander? Upon his wooden cross Island Jesus is nailed – Wooden nails in wrists Crossed above his head Island Jesus found on display In Pacific Pathways Pacific pathways Filled with ocean strays Collected - stolen- taken - borrowed from time past - Never returned Pacific pathways A history of takeaways By collectors - traders and stow aways From a foreign land to a foreign home On show in a glass display Surrounded by Oceanic Treasures Island Jesus is a symbol of Fagani San Cristobal A historical Solomon Island masterpiece Crying out from collectables Island Jesus is not crucified to a cross His nailed to a log I wonder I pray LORD, Did your blood flow like flood? Did your tears create the Pacific Ocean? Never have I heard- Nor have I seen A brown island Jesus Like this before. 血天之岛 ——朗伊托托岛 你升起—— 自那沸腾的海。 炽石炸裂， 迸向天穹。 你自血海中打捞出陆地， 火与蒸汽翻腾成浪， 我望见玛胡依卡升起， 她将熔岩倾入无垠的海， 赤红与橙焰，染满海湾。 我们在这辉煌的岩岛度宿两夜， 于屋外水盆洗浴， 童年的记忆汹涌而回， 蚊声在耳畔回旋。 妻子轻语： “这屋，让我想起祖母。” 我们坐在月下，看满月起舞—— 直到她隐入灰云之后。 佩蕾掩去美丽的面庞， 藏在血色的天幕之中。 夏夜的风吟唱着古老的咒歌—— 那是囚徒筑路、偷蚝者的回声。 我们垂钓往昔， 从裸石聆听岁月的秘语， 拾忆如拾码头柱上附生的贝壳。 在浩拉基湾边， 繁星闪烁。 四人共饮一杯塔奇， 看渔舟掠过水面。 盛夏时节， 此岛总热上三度。 阳光反射在水的镜上—— 我感到鞋底灼痛， 遂脱鞋入水， 双足浸入泻湖的清凉。 这座岛—— 便是血天之岛。 Blood Sky Island --Rangitoto Island You rose – From the boiling sea Hot rocks exploded – into the atmosphere. Fished land up – from bloody ocean. Waves of fire and steam Watching Mahuika rise. She pours lava into the Waitui Atea Red and orange fill the gulf. Two nights on this glorious rock Showered from a basin – outside. Childhood memories flooding back. Mosquitoes buzzing in my ear. My wife said – This house reminds me of my grandmother We sat outside and watched the full moon dance – Till it disappeared behind clouds of grey. Pele hid her pretty face – Behind bloody skies Summer breeze echo’s ancient chants Of prisoner-built roads and oyster thieves. We fished for history and tell-tale signs – That only bare rocks could tell. We gathered memories – like harvesting seashells from wharf posts We sat by the Hauraki Gulf – On a starry night. A taki glass between four of us – Watching boats pass as we fished. In summer – This island is 3 degrees hotter. The sun reflects off the water surface – I felt my shoes burn. I removed my shoes and dipped my feet – In the cool water of the lagoon This island – Is Blood Sky Island. <h5>诗歌赏析：</h5><div><h5>四首诗呈现出达伦·卡玛利典型的“太平洋现实主义”与“后殖民神话性”的双重书写：语言直接、情绪炽烈，却处处嵌入历史与文化的深层纹理。《蓝牙之祸》以纪实般的惨烈揭开斐济现今的毒品与公共卫生危机，控诉性强、社会力度大。《糖，并不甜》则以反复结构构筑一部跨洋殖民史的黑暗编年，将“糖”的隐喻扩展为全球剥削体系，节奏如鼓点，充满历史正义感。《耶稣，是太平洋岛人吗？》以图腾性意象重写宗教叙事，从“被掠夺的太平洋”角度质问西方凝视，是最具文化批评锋芒的一首。《血天之岛》转入记忆与火山神话的抒情写作，景象瑰丽，情感温暖。四首整体兼具档案性、社会性与诗性想象，在太平洋诗歌中具备鲜明辨识度与强烈的文化主体意识。（佩英）</h5><h5>Editorials：</h5><div>These four poems embody Daren Kamali’s signature blend of “Pacific realism” and “post-colonial mythic vision.” The language is direct and fervent, yet deeply rooted in the historical and cultural strata of the Pacific. Blue-Tooth-thing exposes the stark realities of Fiji’s drug and public-health crises with documentary intensity and powerful social critique. There’s… Nothing Sweet about Sugar uses insistent repetition to construct a transoceanic chronicle of colonial violence, expanding the metaphor of “sugar” into an indictment of global systems of exploitation. Was Jesus Christ a Pacific Islander? rewrites a dominant religious narrative through island imagery, questioning Western gaze and recovering Pacific memory; it is the sharpest in cultural critique. Blood Sky Island shifts toward lyrical remembrance and volcanic mythology, vivid with elemental imagery and familial warmth. Taken together, the four poems weave archival witness, social urgency, and imaginative force, marking Kamali as a distinctive Pacific voice grounded in cultural sovereignty and poetic intensity.（by Christine Chen）</div></div> <h5>美国纽约【综合新闻】852期。New York "Compact News" published on edition 382( translated by Christine Chen）</h5> <h5>贝娅特丽斯·萨维德拉·加斯特卢姆（Beatriz Saavedra Gastélum）是墨西哥作家、学者与诗人，出版三十余部著作，译为十多种语言，并任多家媒体专栏作者。曾获俄罗斯、西班牙、意大利及墨西哥多项国际文学与新闻大奖，现任墨西哥国立自治大学妇女研究中心主任及“女性在文学”国际节总监。</h5> <div>他者</div><div> </div>是那些人 在地底行走 以目光刺破黑暗 在翅翼与蝶影间聚拢自己—— 他们 曾两度做同一个梦 惧怕醒来时只剩孤身 因无法做自己而沉入他人的肌理 化作他者的皮肤 他者的话语 收集四散的抚触 以便稍后死去 他们承担他人的季节 让众声合为一体 以一只手掌触抵大地 在坚实的圆域里 随日光升起的凡人 再次成为另一个人 我认识你—— <div>而你不认识我</div><div> </div>THE OTHERS It's the others the underground, those who pierce the eyes, concentrate wings or butterflies, the others, who have the same dream twice, who are anguished to wake up alone, sunk in the flesh of the other for not being oneself, to be the skin of the other, of which he speaks, of the one who collects scattered caresses to die later, take on the weather of others, that they are one, with the only palm of the hand on earth, in the firm sphere where men appear with the sun to be someone else again. I know you You don't know me <div> </div><div> </div>遇沉 凡死去者皆是对的 攫住铁片 攫住一切可能的维度 痛苦的断裂 在记忆的一隅滋生 现实自我支撑 栖居在 那些褪色、日常的事物里 夜的恐惧从不虚妄 像一阵传闻 如可怖的慈悲—— 那拒绝我的空无 我原以为 自己的身体会被水晶覆盖 如今窗前 浮起一股野兽的气息 潮湿 临近死亡之际 以颅骨吞噬天空 仿佛早已知晓 户外荒原般的 <div>自身的悲伤</div><div> </div><div>Shipwreck</div><div> </div>All who die are right, seize the iron the possible dimensions. Agonizing break in the corner of the memory. Reality holds itself, inhabits washed-out, everyday things. The fear of the nights was certain, a rumor, terrible piety space that refused me. I would have thought in my body covered in crystals. Now in the window a smell of beast damp, at the point of death devours the sky with its skull, like it knew the wasteland of the outdoors <div>of its sadness.</div><div> </div><div> </div>在你走之前 也许我已倦了， 任风的细线 将我褪成一层层， 任幽灵的细雨在耳畔低语。 习惯了沉默， 我把命运吓退到桌底， 并将自己铺展在你的黑暗上， 去柔和那些犹疑的敲击， 那些岁月枕边 尚未平息的波纹。 <div>Before You Go</div><div> </div>It can be that I am tired and the threads of wind undress me the drizzle of ghosts whispering. Accustomed to the silence I intimidate the fate under the table and I lay myself down about your darkness in order to soften the blows of uncertainty around the still pillow <div>of the years.</div><div> </div> <div>罅隙</div><div> </div>我在黑暗中摸索拾起 那提早降临的夜 我的身体几乎无声—— 我死了吗？ 今夜无处可栖 唯有月亮 独悬其上 裂缝之间的辽阔寂静 如灼身的闪电 黑色浪涛般的梦 诉说被湮灭的时间如何赎回 新生的念头 自带暗流 双手似乎并用的姿势 坍塌在睁开的眼里 是摇摆不定的墙垣残片 是镜子也模糊的记忆 我自身的谵妄升起 抚触我 又袭击我 Gap I gather blindly the night that enters early, my body, barely breathing, am I dead? tonight there is not a place the moon above alone. Between the cracks the vast silence is lightning that burns, my dreams of black waves talk redemption of annihilated time. Recently born thought, that carries its current. Ambidextrous gestures collapse their open eyes, are remains of indecisive walls, memory that the mirror blurs. My own delirium rises, caresses me, attacks me. <div> </div><div> </div>失息之词 屋外是 无尽的等候， 冷漠与尘土， 仿佛死去的一瞬， 细微的音乐 与僵硬的街道。 黑暗几乎不动， 这黑暗 欲折返那道 被忧惧封缄的闪电—— 我们就活在其间。 光的敌人， 声的敌人， 我将你的讯息 囚在我的喉咙里。 Lifeless word Outside is the endless waiting, the indifference and dust, the instant of having died, the fine music and the hardened street. The darkness barely moves this darkness to return to the lightning silenced by the anguish where we live. Enemy of the light and of the sound I imprison your message in my throat. 身体之舞 瞬间开始 可能的界限 你的面庞在我的感官中扩张 明暗交错 在自由流淌的本质里纠缠 无需钻探 便可描绘舞蹈的起点—— 那神圣的追逐 在空气中留下你的足迹 为了保持轨迹 枕下的现实世界 自我勾勒，直至在抚触中迷失 任意攀升 迎向闪电而无方向 在预见的光芒里迷失自我 在你眼中找到庇护 透过你的喉咙 发现我的朝圣之路 在指尖轻掠你身体轮廓的微妙秩序里 四肢无休地鸣响 每日重启 身体无法翻译的语言 沉醉于不断累积的挫败、 持续的碰撞、 与仍在腰间跳动的音乐 几乎不动，却呼吸 瞬间浸湿日出 直至在唇间找到海洋—— 留下、离去、停留 在窒息边缘凝视无法分辨的存在 悲剧伴随日落而行 因为距离永不抵达 摆锤将你化作整个宇宙 <div>Dance of the bodies</div><div> </div>The moment begins, possible limits where your face expands in my senses. The chiaroscuro intertwines itself in the essence that drips freely the drill isn’t necessary to represent the start of the dance, the divine persecution that leaves your footprints in the air. In order to keep the trajectory, the real world under the pillow delineates itself until losing itself in the caress, allows to climb aimlessly facing the lightning, to lose oneself in the anticipated glow, in your eyes like a refuge and to discover my pilgrimage through your throat, in the minimal coherence with which my fingers brush against your physical outline. The limbs ring without rest in order to begin every day the untranslatable language of the bodies, intoxicating themselves in the accumulating setback the continuous blow and the music that stays alive in the waist. To leave to breathe almost without moving oneself. The moment dampens the sunrise until finding the ocean that emerges from the lips remaining, leaving, staying, observing the indistinguishable on the verge of choking while the drama follows into the sunset. Because the distance never reaches the pendulum that transforms you in the universe. <h5><div>诗歌赏析：</div><div>贝娅特丽斯·萨维德拉·加斯特卢姆（Beatriz Saavedra Gastélum）这组诗歌整体呈现出一种高完成度的“深层意识写作”，既有存在主义的冷光，又有身体感、感官性与心理暗潮的多重共振。语言有力度、密度与隐秘的震动。 《他者》以高度抽象的身份流动开场，呈现“自我被溶解、被代替、被吞并”的恐惧与宿命；其美在于轻盈而诡秘的意象转折，每个动作都仿佛来自无形的深处。《遇沉》进一步加深这种崩塌——死亡、铁片、断裂、记忆，它写出了“意识破洞”中最真实的痛感，没有虚饰。 《Before You Go》是罕见的柔软，以极轻的触感呈现疲惫、退缩与亲密的阴影；像黑暗中的一丝体温。《罅隙》与《失息之词》则回到你的强项：裂缝、黑暗、静止、坍塌的瞬间被写成一种哲学闪电，阅读时几乎能听见意识的碎裂声。 《身体之舞》是全组最具光芒的篇章，身体成为语言、信仰、宇宙的载体，流动、颤动、攀升，写得极具仪式感与灵魂性。 总体来看，其诗具深、准、锋利、成熟的特点，风格独特。（佩英）</div><div>Editorials:</div><div>Of Beatriz Saavedra Gastélum’s work, this collection reveals a remarkably accomplished mode of “deep-consciousness writing,” where the cold gleam of existential inquiry meets sensory tension, bodily resonance, and psychological undertow. The language carries force, density, and a subtle inner tremor. The Others* opens with an abstract flow of shifting identities, evoking the fear and inevitability of being dissolved, replaced, absorbed. Its beauty lies in the light, uncanny turns of imagery—each gesture seems to rise from an invisible depth. *Shipwreck* deepens this collapse: death, metal fragments, rupture, memory. It captures the rawest pain inside the fissures of consciousness, without ornament. Before You Go* introduces rare softness, rendering fatigue, withdrawal, and intimate shadow with a remarkably delicate touch—like a trace of warmth in the dark. *Crevice* and *Lifeless Word* return to the poet’s strongest terrain: cracks, darkness, stillness, the moment of collapse—each transformed into a philosophical flash of lightning. One can almost hear the mind splintering as one reads. Dance of the Bodies* is the most radiant piece. Here the body becomes language, faith, and cosmos—flowing, trembling, ascending—with a sense of ritual and inner luminosity. Taken as a whole, her poetry is distinguished by depth, precision, sharpness, and maturity, with a uniquely recognizable style.（by Christine Chen) </div></h5>