致“黑暗之子”爱伦坡

                《致“黑暗之子”爱伦坡》
          

           ——给一位被世界拒绝的诗人，也给我们

                              作者：马青

你从童年的产道爬出
视网膜上的残像，追拍白昼腋下的蝙蝠

你用诗句为阳光身边的阴影拍照
世界，从平面，跳跃成正反面合唱的多维空间
冰封的春天，在你手心，梦幻成
陷阱
乌鸦
和余烬编织的组曲

翅膀开口说话
你和地狱的传声筒对峙

诗人的皮肤，听得见朽木藏匿的
呻吟和挣扎
诗人的心，以颈动脉里的青紫
倾听余烬编织的强悍
与脆断
黑夜拉响的警报，刺痛诗人的喉咙

送给世界的诗稿
被世界一再封口
你在一扇又一扇门后，继续凝视
眼镜蛇和猫头鹰合谋的恐吓

不向轻松和壮美低头的你
从海底出发
以血和痛，甚至死亡
为犁
用沉重回赠沉重

瓶中的手稿
在几度窒息，声带被割的月色下
发酵成一坛佳酿

化身诗句
特立独行的你，骑上夜的翅膀
俯冲
滑翔

曾经
我也被黑色垃圾袋和墙上的黑洞警告
就像，你被乌鸦提醒

握手
诗人
昨天，趴在礁石上重生，等待彩虹的体温
漂流瓶里，奔向钱塘江大潮的眼睛

2025年7月6日 下午 于费城宪法大厅外

 To the “Dark Child” Edgar Allan Poe

—For a poet rejected by the world, and for us
By Ma Qing 马青

Translated by Wings（翅膀）

(for those who still walk in the dark with a lit match)

You crawled out of childhood’s birth canal,
The afterimage on your retina chasing bats beneath the armpit of daylight.

You took photographs of shadows beside the sun with your lines of verse.
The world, once flat, sprang into a multidimensional chorus of opposites.
The spring, long frozen, in your palm turned dreamlike into
Trap
Raven
Suite woven from ashes and ember.

Wings began to speak.
You stood against the megaphone of hell.

The poet’s skin can hear the groans
And struggles hidden in rotting wood.
The poet’s heart, with the bruises of the carotid,
Listens to the ferocity and the snap woven by embers.
The sirens of night pierce the poet’s throat.

Your poems, sent to the world,
Were silenced again and again.
Behind door after door, you continued to gaze
At threats conspired by cobra and owl.

You, who would not bow
To ease or false grandeur,
Set out from the ocean floor,
With blood and pain—and even death—as your plow,
Returning weight for weight.

Under repeated suffocation, and a moonlight whose vocal cords were severed,
It fermented into a cask of fine liquor.

You, incarnated as verse,
Singular and steadfast,
Rode the wings of night,
Diving,
Gliding.

Once,
I too was warned—by black trash bags, by dark holes in the wall—
Just as you were, by the raven.

Shake hands,
Poet—
Yesterday—reborn on the reef, waiting for a rainbow’s body heat.
In a drifting bottle,
Eyes that rush toward the great tide of the Qiantang River.

July 6, 2025, afternoon
Outside Independence Hall, Philadelphia