CAO BO
Xi’an City | China
曹波简介
曹波，1979年11月生，中国后现代主义诗人，现居中国西安。二十岁开始创作，先后在《诗刊》、《星星》、《作家报》、《延河》等发表作品，作品收入多种选集。2017年出版诗集《昨日集》，2019年出版诗集《你是猫》，2020年出版诗集《海上斯人》，2023年出版诗集《朱雀》。曾获中国青年诗人奖、《诗潮》十佳诗集、丝绸之路国际诗歌艺术节金驼奖、博鳌国际诗歌奖、中国诗歌春晚十佳诗人等。
ABOUT
Cao Bo is a Chinese poet, born in November 1979, Chinese postmodern poets, now lives in Xi’an City, China. He began to write at the age of 20. He has published his works in Poetry Journal, Star Journal and Yanhe Journal, etc. His works have been collected in a variety of anthologies. In 2017, the poetry collection Yesterday was published; in 2019, the poetry collection You Are A Cat was published; in 2020, the poetry collection The Man On The Sea was published; in 2023, the poetry collection Rosefinch was published. He has won the Chinese Young Poet Award, the Top Ten Poetry Collections of Poetry Tide Magazine, the Golden Camel Award of the Silk Road International Poetry Art Festival, the Boao International Poetry Award, the Top Ten Poets of the Chinese Poetry Spring Festival Gala, etc.
à propos
Cao Bo est un poète chinois, né en novembre 1979, poètes postmodernes chinois, vit maintenant à Xi’an, en Chine. Il a commencé à écrire à l’âge de 20 ans. Il a publié ses œuvres dans Poetry Journal, Star Journal et Yanhe Journal, etc. Ses œuvres ont été rassemblées dans diverses anthologies. En 2017, le recueil de poésie Hier a été publié; en 2019, le recueil de poésie Vous êtes un chat a été publié; en 2020, le recueil de poésie L’homme sur la mer a été publié; en 2023, le recueil de poésie Rosefinch a été publié. Il a remporté le Prix du jeune poète chinois, le Top Ten Poetry Collections of Poetry Tide Magazine, le Golden Camel Award du Silk Road International Poetry Art Festival, le Boao International Poetry Award, le Top Ten Poets du Chinese Poetry Spring Festival Gala, etc.
《一只小鸟》
冬天，雾霾，沉重，疫间
小鸟于傍晚死去
在夜幕降临之时
谢幕
自然，平顺，在家门电梯间，窗户下
一些悲伤
它不再孤独，我拎起，去往楼下
把它埋在楼梯口，一边土里
它死的刹那，侧卧着闭上眼，很优美，不愧为
好鸟
我把它埋在楼梯口，一边
抚平，撒上枯枝，念了几句
词语
然后走上楼
继续喝完
那杯酒
Winter, hazy, heavy, epidemic
The bird died at nightfall
It took its curtain call
When evening descended
Natural, peaceful, in the elevator on my doorstep, under the window
A little sad
It was no longer lonely. I picked it up, headed downstairs
And buried it in the ground beside the stairs
When it died, it lay on its side, its eyes closed, its posture elegant, deserving
The reputation of Good Bird
Burying it there
I smoothed the soil, covered it with some dead branches, and read a few
words
Then I went upstairs
And continued to drink
That glass of wine
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