配图 / Living Mountain

配图 / Living Mountain POEM Day and night come hand in hand like a boy and a girl pausing only to eat wild berries out of a dish painted with pictures of birds. They climb the high ice-covered mountain, then they fly away. But you and I don’t do such things We climb the same mountain; I say a prayer for the wind to lift us but it does no good; you hide your head so as not to see the end Downward and downward and downward and downward is where the wind is taking us; I try to comfort you but words are not the answer; I sing to you as mother sang to me Your eyes are closed. We pass the boy and girl we saw at the beginning; now they are standing on a wooden bridge; I can see their house behind them; How fast you go they call to us, but no, the wind is in our ears, that is what we hear And then we are simply falling And the world goes by, all the worlds, each more beautiful than the last; I touch your cheek to protect you Louise Glück #诗歌

爱因斯坦诞辰144周年。“当世界不再作为个人希望的场景，但我们作为自由存在面对它，去欣赏、探究和观察，我们就进入了艺术和科学的领

爱因斯坦诞辰144周年。“当世界不再作为个人希望的场景，但我们作为自由存在面对它，去欣赏、探究和观察，我们就进入了艺术和科学的领域。”"Where the world ceases to be the scene of our personal hopes and wishes, where we face it as free beings admiring, asking, observing, there we enter the realm of art and science."

配图 / Christopher Barraja

配图 / Christopher Barraja Corsair Remember, every lover is a corsair seeking glory, An x-marks-the-spot, a longing for invisible treasure, Every lover is an end-point and a start-point In the history of the world, a spark in the bright flare Of the possible. Our swashbuckling lovers remind us: Once we were lazing children, Housebound and shoreless, With no concept of the sea, But now there’s the ocean’s blue spool, Fleet-winged gulls, windblown caravels, Even spouting whales, Crow’s nests, and clouds like a white armada And so, when we relinquish the body’s treasure map, our lovers Discover us the way the sailcloth in the rigging Fills with the trade winds, from the last of the night’s stars Through the lavish tangerine of dawn, our ships Gliding over sheets of light-glazed silver. Cyrus Cassells、Brian Turner #诗歌

配图 / Gordan Hunt

配图 / Gordan Hunt To the Sea Sometimes when you start to ramble or rather when you feel you are starting to ramble you will say Well, now I’m rambling though I don’t think you ever are. And if you ever are I don’t really care. And not just because I and everyone really at times falls into our own unspooling which really I think is a beautiful softness of being human, trying to show someone else the color of all our threads, wanting another to know everything in us we are trying to show them but in the specific, in the specific of you here in this car that you are driving and in which I am sitting beside you with regards to you and your specific mouth parting to give way to the specific sweetness that is the water of your voice tumbling forthlike I said I don’t ever really mind how much more you might keep speaking as it simply means I get to hear you speak for longer. What was a stream now a river. Anis Mojgani #诗歌

“I wish children didn't die. I wish they would be temporarily el

“I wish children didn't die. I wish they would be temporarily elevated to the skies until the war ends. Then they would return home safe, and when their parents would ask them, where were you? They would say, we were playing in the clouds.” (Palestinian poet Ghassan Kanafani)

配图 / Sergey Neamoscou

配图 / Sergey Neamoscou First Time Brushing Teeth Next to You When I say first time, that implies there will be a second, a fourth, a ninety-ninth. From far away our teeth must look like Tic Tacs, Chiclets, moons of a faraway planet. Nocturnal animals can smell better at night because scent lingers when the air is still, and so I smell the mint of our mouths but also the spill of peppers from the salsa dropped on your shirt. The greasy sidewalks we walked an hour earlier. Hotel soap freshly bubbled and wet in the dish. When I root through the thicket or the brush pile, my fur turns electric striped and tail-tumbled. I foam at the mouth. The mask on my face means bandit. Turns out I love the dark. My little paws want to grab everything and wash it. Aimee Nezhukumatathil #诗歌