读懂每一行的亲密“Verses of Meraki”

海外文苑

本刊发表于纽约《综合新闻报》第884期

The above was published n New York'Compact News' newspaper Edition#884

伊丽莎白·埃斯格拉·卡斯蒂略（Elizabeth Esguerra Castillo），菲律宾获奖作家、诗人与视觉艺术家，著有多部诗集，作品译成18种语言，参与500余部国际选集，创办“艺术疗愈”国际组织，长期推动国际文学与文化交流。

Elizabeth Esguerra Castillo is an award-winning Filipino writer, poet, and visual artist. She is the author of several poetry collections, with her works translated into eighteen languages and included in more than 500 international anthologies. Founder of the international Art Healing initiative, she has long been dedicated to fostering global literary and cultural exchange.

沙希德·阿巴斯（Shahid Abbas），巴基斯坦后现代英语诗人、作家及教育工作者。著有诗集《来自自然的话语》，合著《我们以音节诉说》《匠心诗韵》。其诗作发表于众多国际选集、文学期刊及数字平台，已被译为13种语言，以清澈细腻的诗风书写自然、人性与当代生命体验。

Shahid Abbas is a Pakistani postmodern English-language poet, writer, and educator. He is the author of Words from Nature and co-author of We Speak in Syllables and Crafted Verses. His poetry has appeared in numerous international anthologies, literary journals, and digital platforms, and has been translated into thirteen languages. Marked by lyrical clarity and quiet precision, his work explores nature, the human condition, and the lived experience of contemporary life.

匠心诗韵（诗歌酬唱）

（一）

伊丽莎白：

诗，不止于文字；

意义塑造生命之本，

化作天幕上的诗行，

如慈母轻吟摇篮曲。

沙希德：

至高的奥秘，

深藏于神圣的诗页；

诗承继爱的历史，

无须雕饰，

皆因灵感本来自天穹。

伊丽莎白：

缪斯写下心所未言。

翻开此卷，

便见爱的旅程；

天使抚琴，

字字皆诉永恒深情。

沙希德：

并非梦境，

不灭的热忱。

当你读懂每一行的亲密，

便会一再翻阅。

伊丽莎白：

万千诗句，发乎心灵，

映照幽微心境；

当诗意交汇，

引领读者步入诗意桃源。

沙希德：

神恩之中，

探寻真实，迈向永恒。

请阅读、感受、领悟，

旅程引你登高之境。

伊丽莎白：

《匠心诗韵》，非寻常诗卷。

叩动心灵，

羞赧，亦令你叩问人生。

Verses of Meraki (A Poetry Collaboration) excerpt

Elizabeth:

Verses are not just mere words,

When their meanings shape the essence of being

Written lyrics on the face of the sky,

Like a doting mother singing a lullabye.

Shahid:

The sublime secret has been concealed in its divine pages,

The verses are beautiful heirs to the history of love

We didn’t beautify them

Because everything appears in our minds

Coming from up above.

Elizabeth:

Our muse wrote what our hearts cannot speak of

In these pages, a journey of love can be witnessed,

While harps of angels play at the background

Each line describes great affection,

Of a love destined to be forever.

Shahid:

It’s not a dream, it’s an unforgettable zeal,

Which sympathize with the pure intention

When you start to discover the intimacy in each line,

You wish to turn on the pages every time.

Elizabeth:

A myriad of lyrics coming from the heart,

Depicting our inner minds

When both of our verses intertwined,

Taking readers to a lovely escapade.

Shahid:

An endless immortality

With divine blessings we are exploring the reality,

Read, feel, and discover

The journey will put you up there.

Elizabeth:

“Verses of Meraki”, not just an ordinary tale,

It will capture your hearts

Make you blush, make you question things about life,

Let your soul be in the moment

As we take you to another realm,

Immersed in our own meraki.

Shahid:

The verses will invite you to the purity of thoughts

We are messengers of faithfulness,

Listen to our message and let yourselves take part,

Don’t be ignorant

Let’s spread the love and joy.

沙希德诗选：

每一道黎明，

皆有一支笔，等待在沉默与正义间作抉择。

光不遥远，

栖于分裂尘埃之下。

受压迫者如明镜，

昭示我们：和平发声：于勇气处。

群星铭记血肉将遗忘之事。

每一份献予万物的温柔，

皆在无形中镌刻明亮的篇章。

距离，不过是

怀疑投下的一道阴影。

时间以灰烬计数，

而非钟点。

星辰承袭那些

我们终不能久留的名字。

道路先于黄昏，

忘却了足迹。

死亡悄然来临，

披着明日的衣裳。

全能者栖于静默的心息，

不在权势与傲慢的喧嚣里。

军旅兴起，终归尘土；

唯真理缓缓而行，从不隐匿。

此世并非属于我们的天国，

不过是光阴的一抹流影。

最令人惊异的：

他们以宗教之名杀戮，

以阶级之名分裂，

以信仰之名毁灭生命；

更以“上帝之军”为名，

对抗上帝所钟爱的众生。

随后，

遁入辞藻、袍服与口号之后。

我们同出一抔尘土，

只是起源被赋予不同名字。

信念分隔表象，

本源却默然为一。

纵争辩，

亦共呼吸同一口借来的空气。

我们争论上帝，

却忘了终将归去的泥土。

当真理无可争辩，

身份终将消隐。

最终，

我们并非离去，

只是归来。

在心中掘一座空穴，

名之为贪欲；

死亡来临前

反复演练的坟墓。

尘土早已知晓他未竟的姓名，

蛆虫将沉默译作虚无。

流水依旧清澈东逝，

而心中，

终未学会如何止息。

若能认出那比心跳更近之物，

微光亦将照亮尘巷。

隐秘之径重现光辉，

心灵终得安息。

死亡，

亦不再值得畏惧，

成为静然归宿。

唯爱真实存在，

和平方会降临。

不是披在身上的字句，

而是深植心中的真实。

何以立于神前，

仍否认自己所摧毁的一切？

良知沉睡太深，

抑或人性，

早已忘却安宁？

Every dawn arrives

with a pen waiting to choose justice over silence.

Light is not distant

it lives beneath the dust of our divisions.

The oppressed are mirrors,

teaching us that peace begins when courage finds a voice.

The stars remember what flesh forgets

every tenderness offered to creation

etches a brighter script in the unseen

where distance is merely

a shadow cast by doubt

Time counts in ashes,

not in hours.

Stars inherit names,

we cannot keep.

The road forgets footsteps,

before dusk does.

Death arrives quietly,

wearing tomorrow.

Almighty is remembered in the quiet breath of hearts,

not in the noise of power or pride.

Armies rise, and armies fall into dust

but truth walks slowly and never hides

This world is not a painted heaven we own

it is only a passing shadow of time.

But something still remains strange.

In the name of religion, they kill.

In the name of class, they divide.

In the name of belief, they break lives.

In the name of God's army, they stand against God's own beloved people.

And then they disappear

Behind words. Behind robes. Behind slogans.

We begin in the same dust, though we name our beginnings differently.

Belief divides the surface, but origin keeps us silently one.

Even disagreement breathes in the same borrowed air.

We argue about God, yet forget the soil that waits for us all.

Identity fades where truth becomes too old to dispute.

In the end, we do not leave we simply return.

Shahid:

He digs a hollow in himself, named greed,

a grave rehearsed before death arrives.

Dust already knows his unfinished name,

as worms translate his silence into absence.

Water keeps moving indifferent, pure, unbothered,

and nothing inside him learns how to end.

Shahid:

If we recognize what is closer than our own heartbeat,

it will light even these dusty alleys.

The hidden paths will glow again,

and the heart will finally rest in peace.

Death will no longer feel like fear,

but something quietly accepted.

Peace will come when love is truly real

Not the word they wear, but the truth they feel

How do they stand before the Divine and still deny

What they have broken, what they let die

Does conscience sleep so deeply in their chest?

Or has humanity forgotten how to rest?

（本期所有作品均获作者授权）