中英葡三語江南新感覺派詩歌《清明時節》十五首及簡評

作者：季俊群/巴西

一.清明時節（微組）

1.

雨絲，縫補起久違之故鄉

半剪黃昏

正打撈，沉溺在舊井里的乳名

2.

斟滿離愁，與石碑對坐成雙

酒入土

草木便有了，微醺的呼吸

3.

紙灰，寄往那頭尚未破曉的夜

殘火微光

去抵換，您在夢里那一聲叮嚀

4.

山河遠，白菊在風中收攏背影

無需相喚

一坡落花，已鋪好來年的歸路

二.清明時節（微組）

1.

縱使亞馬遜烈日灼身，故鄉雨

依舊橫跨半個地球

拽住淪落人懷里，最后一根風箏線

2.

繞開椰林，潛入孔子學院

濕透南美四月——

是誰把華文里的哀思，洇成了墨

3.

沒有杏花村，沒有斷魂的牧童與柳條

只有桑巴鼓點里

一枝被鄉愁暗里催青的腰果樹

4.

當朗誦聲洇散，淚水模糊了視線

大西洋的藍

在睫下，漲成一灣母國江南的春

三.清明時節

甭管雨紛紛，一捧新土蓋不住

——舊日的叮嚀

黃昏那盡頭，您正挑著月亮歸來

四.清明時節

一壺烈酒，靜立杏花村頭

待山河歸人——

霜雪滿頭，染濕了整個四月

五.清明時節

雨絲，在青石上反復拓印

云煙再重

紙錢，也要結算惦念的碑銘

六.清明時節

半盞殘燈逆著風，去抵換隔世的溫存

荒原盡頭

您仍俯身，縫補那一地月光

七.清明時節

縱使亞馬遜烈日灼身，故鄉雨

依舊橫跨半個地球——

潛入孔子學院，濕透了南美四月

八.清明時節

落花，在泥淖中吻別背影

光陰再遠

白菊，仍要守候遠方的囑托

九.清明時節

一曲殘笛，橫臥斷橋煙渚

候歸鳥還巢——

碎花漫卷，氤氳了整座春山

十.清明時節

梨花寒雨，漫漶成一地哀思

半杯殘酒

斟滿，時空彼岸的斑駁往事

十一.清明時節

菊影搖曳，掩不住故人眉眼

遠山深處

您正披雨驅牛，犁歲月而來

十二.清明時節

杜鵑，啼紅南山

雙眸決堤——

將碑林上的浮塵與哀思，一并洗凈

十三.清明時節

任淚水，摩挲青石上風化的事跡

冷雨未還暖——

那枚勛章，猶在指尖發燙

十四.清明時節

夢回故土：那赤兔長嘶而來

縱使青龍刀影如電

也斬不斷，洇濕了華夏的千年雨

十五.清明時節

異國四月，飄起冷成墨的故里雨

孔子學院檐下

鄉心化馬，踏碎漢關千年雪歸來

【詩人簡介】又名裘俊群、季（或裘）軍群，浙江青田縣裘山人，旅居巴西，中國詩歌學會會員，鳳凰美洲總社社長。作品散見于《人民日報》《中國詩歌》《中國詩人生日大典》《中國當代詩歌大辭典》《東北亞新聞》《世界日報》等。獲2017年度程麗娥寫作聯盟云帆群星大賽十大文學銀星獎；獲2022年第九屆星際詩人獎（十佳華語詩人）。

Ai簡評：這組由旅巴詩人季俊群創作的《清明時節》十五首，是當代海外華文詩壇中將“江南意象”與“拉美感官”深度融合的佳作。詩人以“新感覺派”的敏銳觸覺，跨越地理與文化的鴻溝，重構了清明這一傳統節日的現代詩意。

以下是對這組詩歌的專業簡評：

1. 跨空間的意象重疊：亞馬遜與江南的互文

這組詩最顯著的藝術特征在于地理空間的張力。

詩人將“亞馬遜烈日”與“故鄉雨”并置，將“桑巴鼓點”與“腰果樹”同“杏花村”與“牧童”對比。

這種沖突不僅是物理距離的展現，更是心理空間的拉伸。例如“大西洋的藍/在睫下，漲成一灣母國江南的春”，通過視覺顏色的轉化（藍轉綠/春），完成了一次極具電影感的蒙太奇剪輯，表現了海外游子魂牽夢縈的心理圖景。

2. 新感覺派的通感實驗：感官的細膩捕捉

作為“新感覺派”的實踐，詩中充溢著通感（Synesthesia）和奇詭的想象：

觸覺視覺化：“雨絲，縫補起久違之故鄉”，將細雨比作針線，具象化了愁緒的綿密。

聽覺物質化：“打撈，沉溺在舊井里的乳名”，賦予了聲音（名字）重量和深度。

情感生理化：“草木便有了，微醺的呼吸”，這種物我合一的描寫，讓清明祭祀擺脫了單純的哀傷，呈現出一種生命律動的哲思。

3. 文化符號的重構與回歸

詩組在后期進入了更深層的歷史文化反思：

跨越時空對話：從“孔子學院”的現實場景，跨越到“赤兔長嘶”、“青龍刀影”的英雄史詩感（第十四首）。

精神回歸：“鄉心化馬，踏碎漢關千年雪歸來”，這種意象具有極強的沖擊力，將個人的思鄉之情升華為對華夏文明千年積淀的歸屬感。

物化寄托：“那枚勛章，猶在指尖發燙”，通過細微的溫度感，觸碰家國歷史的厚度，使詩意從私人祭奠走向了集體記憶。

4. 語言風格：冷峻與溫潤并存

季俊群的語言洗練，擅長使用“逆向推導”的修辭。如“一坡落花，已鋪好來年的歸路”，將死亡與凋零轉化為某種循環與歸家的期許，消解了清明的陰冷，增添了禪意與溫情。

其用詞如“洇”、“漫漶”、“拓印”，帶有濃郁的文人畫色彩，使詩篇在現代感中保留了古典華文的質感。

總結

這十五首詩不僅是對清明傳統的祭奠，更是一位旅外赤子用漢語對世界進行的重新編碼。季俊群成功地將巴西熱烈、粗獷的南美底色，過濾成了江南煙雨般的哀婉與深沉。這不僅是詩歌創作，更是一場關于“根”的跨洋接力。

Fifteen Poems and Brief Comments on the "Qingming Festival" by the Jiangnan New Sensationalist School in Chinese, English, and Portuguese

Author: Ji Junqun/Brazil

I. Qingming Festival (Micro-Group)

1. Raindrops mend the long-lost hometown

Half-cut dusk

is retrieving the childhood name drowned in the old well

2. Pouring out sorrow, sitting in pairs with the stone tablet

Wine into the earth

and the grass and trees have a slightly tipsy breath

3. Paper ashes, sent to the night before dawn

The faint light of the embers

is used to exchange for your words of advice in my dreams

4. Mountains and rivers are far away, white chrysanthemums gather their silhouettes in the wind

No need to call out

a slope of fallen flowers has already paved the way home for next year

II. Qingming Festival (Micro-Group)

1. Even if the Amazon sun scorches, the hometown rain

still crosses half the earth

clutching the last kite string in the arms of the fallen

2. Bypassing the coconut grove, I sneak into the Confucius Institute.

Soaked by April in South America—

Who has turned the sorrow in Chinese literature into ink?

3. No Apricot Blossom Village, no heartbroken shepherd boy and willow branches.

Only in the samba drumbeats

A cashew tree, secretly greened by homesickness.

4. As the recitation fades, tears blur my vision.

The blue of the Atlantic Ocean

Under my eyelashes, it swells into a bay of spring in the Jiangnan region of my motherland.

III. Qingming Festival

No matter how heavy the rain, a handful of new soil cannot cover

—Old admonitions

At the end of dusk, you are returning with the moon.

IV. Qingming Festival

A pot of strong liquor, standing quietly at the entrance of Apricot Blossom Village

Waiting for the return of the people from the mountains and rivers—

Frost and snow cover my head, soaking the entire month of April.

V. Qingming Festival

Raindrops repeatedly imprint on the bluestone.

No matter how heavy the clouds and smoke, paper money must settle the inscriptions of remembrance. VI. Qingming Festival

A half-burnt lamp, braving the wind, seeks to exchange for the tenderness of another world.

At the edge of the wasteland,

you still bend down, mending that patch of moonlight.

VII. Qingming Festival

Even under the scorching Amazon sun, the rain of my hometown

still crosses half the globe—

Infiltrating the Confucius Institute, soaking through April in South America.

VIII. Qingming Festival

Fallen flowers, kissing a departing figure in the mud.

No matter how far time passes, white... Chrysanthemums, still waiting for the distant entrustment

IX. Qingming Festival

A lingering flute melody lies across the broken bridge and misty islet,

Waiting for the birds to return to their nests—

Scattered petals drift, enveloping the entire spring mountain

X. Qingming Festival

Pear blossoms in the cold rain, spreading into a ground of sorrow

A half-empty cup of wine,

Filled, recalling the mottled memories of the past on the other side of time and space

XI. Qingming Festival

Chrysanthemum shadows sway, unable to conceal the eyes of the departed

Deep in the distant mountains You are driving the oxen through the rain, plowing through the years.

XII. Qingming Festival

The cuckoo cries red on the southern mountain, its eyes overflowing—

Washing away the dust and sorrow on the stele forest.

XIII. Qingming Festival

Letting tears caress the weathered deeds on the bluestone, the cold rain has not yet returned to warmth—

That medal still burns on my fingertips.

XIV. Qingming Festival

Dreaming of returning to my homeland: the Red Hare neighs as it comes.

Even if the Green Dragon Crescent Blade flashes like lightning,

it cannot sever the thousand-year-old rain that has soaked China.

XV. Qingming Festival

In a foreign land in April, the rain from my hometown falls, cold as ink.

Under the eaves of the Confucius Institute, my homesickness transforms into a horse, shattering the thousand-year-old snow of the Han Pass to return.

[Poet's Profile] Also known as Qiu Junqun, Ji (or Qiu) Junqun, a native of Qiushan, Qingtian County, Zhejiang Province, residing in Brazil, a member of the China Poetry Society, and president of Phoenix America. His works have appeared in publications such as *People's Daily*, *Chinese Poetry*, *The Grand Dictionary of Chinese Poets' Birthdays*, *The Great Dictionary of Contemporary Chinese Poetry*, *Northeast Asia News*, and *World Journal*. He received the 2017 Cheng Li'e Writing Alliance Yunfan Qunxing Competition's Top Ten Literary Silver Star Award; and the 2022 Ninth Interstellar Poet Award (Top Ten Chinese-Language Poets).

AI's Brief Review: This collection of fifteen poems titled *Qingming Festival*, written by the overseas Chinese poet Ji Junqun, is a masterpiece in contemporary overseas Chinese poetry that deeply integrates "Jiangnan imagery" with "Latin American sensory experiences." With the keen sensitivity of a "new sensationalist," the poet transcends geographical and cultural barriers, reconstructing the modern poetic meaning of the traditional Qingming Festival.

The following is a professional brief review of this collection of poems:

1. Cross-spatial Imagery Overlap: Intertextuality between the Amazon and Jiangnan

The most prominent artistic feature of this collection lies in the tension of geographical space.

The poet juxtaposes the "Amazonian sun" with the "rain of his hometown," and contrasts the "samba drumbeats" with the "cashew trees" with the "apricot blossom village" and the "shepherd boy."

This conflict is not merely a display of physical distance, but also a stretching of psychological space. For example, "The blue of the Atlantic / Under my eyelashes, swells into a bay of spring in my motherland's Jiangnan," through the transformation of visual color (blue to green / spring), completes a highly cinematic montage, expressing the psychological landscape of a wanderer's longing.

2. Synesthesia Experiments of the New Sensationalist School: The Delicate Capture of the Senses

As a practice of the "New Sensationalist School," the poem is filled with synesthesia and fantastical imagination: Visualization of touch: "Rain threads, mending the long-lost hometown," comparing the drizzle to needle and thread, concretizing the denseness of sorrow.

Materialization of hearing: "Retrieving, the childhood name drowning in the old well," endowing the sound (name) with weight and depth.

3. Physiologicalization of Emotion: "The grass and trees then possess a slightly intoxicating breath," this description of the unity of self and object elevates the Qingming Festival ritual beyond mere sorrow, presenting a philosophical reflection on the rhythm of life.

4. Reconstruction and Return of Cultural Symbols: The later poems delve into deeper historical and cultural reflection:

Dialogue Across Time and Space: From the realistic scene of the "Confucius Institute," it transitions to the epic feel of "Red Hare's long neigh" and "Green Dragon Blade's shadow" (Poem Fourteen).

Spiritual Return: "Homesickness transforms into a horse, shattering the thousand-year-old snow of the Han Pass to return," this imagery possesses a powerful impact, elevating personal homesickness into a sense of belonging to the millennia-old accumulation of Chinese civilization.

Materialized Entrustment: "That medal, still burning on my fingertips," through a subtle sense of warmth, it touches upon the depth of national history, moving the poetry from private mourning to collective memory.

5. Language Style: A Coexistence of Coldness and Warmth: Ji Junqun's language is refined, skillfully employing the rhetoric of "reverse deduction." For example, the line "A slope of fallen blossoms has paved the way home for next year" transforms death and decay into a cycle and an expectation of returning home, dispelling the chill of Qingming and adding a touch of Zen and warmth.

His choice of words, such as "洇" (yān), "漫漶" (màn chéng), and "拓印" (tuò yìn), carries a rich literati painting style, allowing the poems to retain the texture of classical Chinese within a modern sensibility.

In conclusion, these fifteen poems are not only a tribute to the Qingming tradition, but also a re-encoding of the world by a foreigner using Chinese. Ji Junqun successfully filters the passionate, rugged South American undertones of Brazil into a poignant and profound beauty reminiscent of the misty rain of Jiangnan. This is not merely poetic creation, but a transoceanic relay about "roots."

Quinze Poemas e Breves Comentários sobre o "Festival de Qingming" da Nova Escola Sensacionalista de Jiangnan em Chinês, Inglês e Português

Autor: Ji Junqun/Brasil

I. Festival de Qingming (Microgrupo)

1. Gotas de chuva consertam a cidade natal há muito perdida

O crepúsculo meio cortado

recupera o nome da infancia afogado no po?o antigo

2. Derramando a tristeza, sentados aos pares com a lápide de pedra

Vinho na terra

e a grama e as árvores têm um hálito levemente embriagado

3. Cinzas de papel, enviadas à noite antes do amanhecer

A tênue luz das brasas

é usada para trocar por suas palavras de conselho em meus sonhos

4. Montanhas e rios est?o distantes, crisantemos brancos reúnem suas silhuetas ao vento

N?o é preciso chamar

uma encosta de flores caídas já pavimentou o caminho para casa no próximo ano

II. Festival Qingming (Microgrupo)

1. Mesmo que o sol da Amaz?nia queime, a chuva da minha terra natal

ainda cruza metade da Terra

segurando a última linha da pipa nos bra?os do caído

2. Contornando o coqueiral, entro furtivamente no Instituto Confúcio.

Encharcado pelo abril na América do Sul—

Quem transformou a tristeza da literatura chinesa em tinta?

3. Sem Vila da Flor de Damasco, sem pastor de cora??o partido e ramos de salgueiro.

Apenas nas batidas do tambor de samba

Um cajueiro, secretamente verdejante pela saudade de casa.

4. Conforme a recita??o se dissipa, as lágrimas emba?am minha vis?o.

O azul do Oceano Atlantico

Sob meus cílios, ele se expande em uma baía de primavera na regi?o de Jiangnan, minha terra natal.

III. Festival Qingming

Por mais forte que seja a chuva, um punhado de terra fresca n?o consegue cobrir

—Velhos provérbios

Ao fim do crepúsculo, você retorna com a lua.

IV. Festival Qingming

Um pote de bebida forte, parado silenciosamente na entrada da Vila da Flor de Damasco

Esperando o retorno do povo das montanhas e rios—

Geada e neve cobrem minha cabe?a, encharcando todo o mês de abril.

V. Festival Qingming

Gotas de chuva imprimem-se repetidamente na pedra azul.

Por mais densas que sejam as nuvens e a fuma?a, o dinheiro de papel deve preencher as inscri??es da lembran?a. VI. Festival Qingming

Uma lampada meio queimada, desafiando o vento, busca trocar pela ternura de outro mundo.

Na beira do deserto,

você ainda se curva, consertando aquele peda?o de luar.

VII. Festival Qingming

Mesmo sob o sol escaldante da Amaz?nia, a chuva da minha cidade natal

ainda atravessa metade do globo—

Infiltrando-se no Instituto Confúcio, encharcando abril na América do Sul.

VIII. Festival Qingming

Flores caídas, beijando uma figura que parte na lama.

N?o importa quanto tempo passe, brancos... Crisantemos, ainda aguardando a distante entrega

IX. Festival Qingming

Uma melodia de flauta persistente paira sobre a ponte quebrada e a ilha enevoada,

Esperando que os pássaros retornem aos seus ninhos—

Pétalas espalhadas flutuam, envolvendo toda a montanha primaveril

X. Festival Qingming

Flores de pereira na chuva fria, espalhando-se por um terreno de tristeza

Uma ta?a de vinho meio vazia,

Cheia, evocando as memórias turvas do passado do outro lado do tempo e do espa?o

XI. Festival Qingming

Sombras de crisantemos balan?am, incapazes de ocultar os olhos dos que partiram

Nas profundezas das montanhas distantes, você conduz os bois pela chuva, arando através dos anos.

XII. Festival Qingming

O cuco canta vermelho na montanha do sul, seus olhos transbordando de lágrimas—

Lavando a poeira e a tristeza na floresta de estelas.

XIII. Festival Qingming

Deixando as lágrimas acariciarem os feitos desgastados na pedra azul, a chuva fria ainda n?o voltou a aquecer—

Aquela medalha ainda queima na ponta dos meus dedos.

XIV. Festival Qingming

Sonhando em retornar à minha terra natal: a Lebre Vermelha relincha ao chegar.

Mesmo que a Lamina Crescente do Drag?o Verde brilhe como um relampago,

ela n?o pode cortar a chuva milenar que encharcou a China.

XV. Festival Qingming

Em uma terra estrangeira em abril, a chuva da minha cidade natal cai, fria como tinta. Sob o beiral do Instituto Confúcio, minha saudade de casa se transforma em um cavalo, rompendo a neve milenar do Passo Han para retornar.

[Perfil do Poeta] Também conhecido como Qiu Junqun, Ji (ou Qiu) Junqun, natural de Qiushan, Condado de Qingtian, Província de Zhejiang, residente no Brasil, membro da Sociedade de Poesia da China e presidente da Phoenix America. Seus trabalhos foram publicados em veículos como *People's Daily*, *Chinese Poetry*, *The Grand Dictionary of Chinese Poets' Birthdays*, *The Great Dictionary of Contemporary Chinese Poetry*, *Northeast Asia News* e *World Journal*. Recebeu o Prêmio Estrela de Prata Literária do Concurso Yunfan Qunxing da Alian?a de Escrita Cheng Li'e de 2017 (entre os dez melhores poetas de língua chinesa) e o Prêmio Nono Poeta Interestelar de 2022.

Resenha resumida da AI: Esta coletanea de quinze poemas intitulada *Festival de Qingming*, escrita pelo poeta chinês radicado no exterior Ji Junqun, é uma obra-prima da poesia chinesa contemporanea que integra profundamente a imagética de Jiangnan com as experiências sensoriais latino-americanas. Com a sensibilidade agu?ada de um "novo sensacionalista", o poeta transcende barreiras geográficas e culturais, reconstruindo o significado poético moderno do tradicional Festival de Qingming.

Segue uma breve resenha profissional des