John Reibetanz is a poet, literary critic and English Professor. He was born in 1944 in New York City, and grew up in the eastern United States and Canada. He received a B.A. with Special honours in English from Brooklyn College in 1965, followed by an M.A. (1967) and a Ph.D (1968) in English Language and Literature from Princeton University. He taught English at Victoria College in the University of Toronto since 1968. He has published seven books of poetry, including Ashbourn (1986), Morning Watch (1995), Midland Swimmer (1996), Near Finisterre (1996), Mining for Sun (2000), which was shortlisted for the 2001 ReLit Award in Poetry, Near Relations (2005), and Transformations (2006). He was a finalist for the National Magazine Awards, and in 2002 he was awarded the First Prize in the Petra Kenney poetry Competition.

约翰-瑞博坦兹是加拿大诗人、文学批评家、英语教授。1944年生于纽约，在美国东部和加拿大长大。纽约城市大学布鲁克林学院英文专业本科，普林斯顿大学英语语言和文学专业硕士、博士。1968年起在多伦多大学维多利亚学院英语系任教至今。主要研究当代英美诗歌、16-17世纪诗歌与戏剧和莎士比亚。他出版过七部诗集，其中《挖掘太阳》 (2000)入选2001年加拿大瑞利特诗歌奖。他获得过加拿大国家杂志奖和美国全国诗歌竞赛奖，2002年派切-肯尼诗歌竞赛第一名。

周焱，又名周琰（笔名）。1970年生于陕西，长于陕西。毕业于西北大学中文系，自学英语、法语，从事编辑、翻译工作。现居加拿大多伦多。

Yan Zhou was born in Shanxi. She graduated from the Chinese Department of the Northwest University in China. She works as an editor and translator. She currently lives in Toronto, Canada.

A World of Light

一个光的世界

If I close my eyes now, I can still see them 
canopied by the visor of my sunhat: 
three children islanded on a narrow rim 
of earth between the huge crack-willow that 
they squat before, hushed, poised to net a frog, 
and the pond the frog will jump to (it got away) 
a glass its dive will shatter. 
The unbroken image 
pleases my mind’s eye with its density, 
such thick crisscross of tree-trunk, earth, and tall grass 
I see no breach, no source for the light that steeps it 
but a blue burning in the pond’s green glass. 

The grass withered, the tree blew down, earth caught 
the frog, the children grew. Sky's ice-blue flame 
teased along the wick it would consume.
 			

如果此刻闭上眼睛，我还能看见他们
被我的太阳帽帽檐遮挡着：
三个孩子蹲在高大的翠柳前
那树间狭窄的一圈地上
各为孤岛，悄无声息，准备好要网罗一只青蛙，
青蛙要跳的池塘（它已逃掉）
一面将被它的跃水打破的玻璃。
这浑然的景象
以它的密，喜悦了我的心灵之眼，
这树干，泥土和高草繁密交错的图景
不见丝毫破绽，我也看不到倾注其上的光源
只一股幽蓝在池塘的绿玻璃上燃烧。

草枯缩，树吹低，大地抓住
那青蛙，孩子们长大了。天空冰蓝的火焰
沿着它要燃尽的焰芯骚动。