These are unusual times. These poets are tale-tellers of their world. Their poems are for real people.

Selected Poems

Parting Before Daybreak

  • by An Qi

  • First the day,
  • then daybreak,
  • and finally the time for parting.
  • Local time in Beijing is 7 o’clock according to the TV.

  • As a child, I liked to lie in bed
  • and wait for daybreak,
  • my silver broach stayed in its soft dormant curve.
  • I counted my fingers,
  • exactly ten.

  • Almost daybreak,
  • but no light in the sky.
  • At daybreak you come. Daylight is gone when you go.
  • Days with light, days without light, days come, days go.
  • You come, you go, coming and going, walking to me, and away from me.

  • Now a grown-up, I still daydream,
  • waiting for daybreak like waiting for an archaeologist
  • to excavate, patting me with a spade
  • and expose me to daylight.
  • Oh, oh, just as I feel the thrill, I see your hand leaving.




  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 11

天不亮就分手

  • 文 /安琪

  • 天是一例
  • 亮是一例
  • 分手是最后一例
  • 电视播报现在是北京时间7点整

  • 小时候我经常躺在床上
  • 等天亮
  • 一块弯曲的银制别针挽留了睡眠的感觉
  • 我数了数指头
  • 不多不少正好十根

  • 天要亮了
  • 天不亮了
  • 天亮了你来了天不亮了你走了天亮天
  • 不亮天天天天亮天不亮
  • 你来了你走了来来走走走来了又走了

  • 长大了我经常迷糊等天像个考古
  • 工作者把我挖起
  • 亮是一柄铁锹拍拍我
  • 呵呵,我一激动看见你的手刚刚离去



Evening Repast

  • by Ba Ling

  • To focus our attention,
  • let’s divide our preparation into a few stages:
  • remove the scales, slit the belly, scoop out the guts, rinse.
  • Another example: choose a plump clove of garlic.
  • The best soil and the softest sunlight cause a qualitative change,
  • transform living things.
  • During an evening repast, in the spirit of mutual celebration,
  • my son and I focus our attention within the radius of the candle light.
  • “You see, owing to our great efforts,
  • instead of eating garlic,
  • we are eating fresh garlic shoots.
  • They are like fish, very shapely, very seductive.”


  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 14

晚宴

  • 文/八零

  • 为了集中注意力
  • 我们将一件事分成几个阶段
  • 去鳞,剖腹,掏秽物,冲洗。
  • 另外的例子:选饱满蒜瓣,优质泥土和柔和的阳光
  • 让事物发生质变,
  • 以改变生活形态。
  • 我和儿子在盛大的晚餐中相互庆贺
  • 精神集中于一小片烛光里
  • “瞧,由于我们的努力,
  • 我们不再吃蒜,我们
  • 吃上了新鲜的蒜苗,它们有
  • 鱼儿一样诱人的身段。”

Ferry

  • by Bei Xiaohuang

  • Chancing to query, I give Baidu.com* a try.
  • Just like when lost in the hills, I ask for direction
  • from a wrinkled old granny.

  • One day, I keyed in “Bei Xiao Huang”^,
  • and found a few traces of a man:
  • he has the habit of using a green mugwort twig,
  • dipping it in the moon-lit brook
  • and writing down seductive, inconsequential words.

  • Baidu? When will my inquiry
  • lead me to my moon maiden, peaceful and tranquil,
  • among the rustling reeds at the water’s edge.

  • Ferry? There will come a day
  • when I arrive at the flowery other shore.
  • Will anyone there be gently tapping the keys Bei – Xiao – Huang?
  • Like his name, he still lives quietly in the light of the day.

  • *a search engine
  • ^Bei Xiao Huang, little northern wasteland, the poet’s pen name.

  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 6

摆渡

  • 文 / 北小荒

  • 遇到疑问,我习惯百度一下
  • 就如迷山时,向那个
  • 皱纹很深的老奶奶问路

  • 一天,我输入“北小荒”
  • 寻到一个人的痕迹:
  • 他用一枝青艾,蘸着月光和清水
  • 写一些风吹草动的文字

  • 百度?什么时候
  • 我会在荻花瑟瑟的水畔
  • 找寻到那个,安宁如月光的女子

  • 摆渡?当有一天
  • 我穿过葱茏的彼岸花
  • 谁会轻轻敲下键盘:北—小—荒
  • 就如那个人,还在静静的时光里

Filling in the Blanks

  • by Chen Guiliang

  • Heaven, you see, is blank, so blank,
  • such a vast.........blank,
  • I wonder what it takes to fill it.
  • It reminds me of Death
  • and the way it is registered on a clan’s genealogy;
  • each entry requires a person to give up his life.
  • On a spring afternoon,
  • my father suddenly passed away,
  • filling a generation’s blank space.
  • I know more kinsmen
  • will fill up the remaining blanks.
  • It won’t take long
  • before I replace these people
  • to become a husband, a father,
  • giving my love unconditionally,
  • and know there will be another
  • who will do as I do ––
  • fill in..........fill in.


  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 6

填空

  • 文 / 陈贵亮

  • 你看,天空多空,这么大的空
  • 要什么才能填满
  • 如同死亡,在族谱上
  • 需要一个人舍身
  • 某个春日午后,我的父亲突然死去
  • 填补了一代人的空白
  • 我知道,还会有更多的亲人
  • 将填满那些余下的空白
  • 用不了多久。我也会代替他
  • 成为别人的丈夫,父亲
  • 把全部的爱给予他们
  • 然后慢慢等待
  • 另一个人,像我一样
  • 填填补补

Blushing Red (Subtitle: The Lacquer Tree)

  • by Chen Min

  • Blushing Red, maiden in red...

  • More than corn liquor, more than their wives’ names,
  • she inflames the lacquer-tree men, eyes staring wide.
  • What a propitious time to become someone's bride.

  • In the autumn wind, as the horns blow and blow,
  • slowly and shyly, across the precipice she goes.
  • Walking up the bluff, high above the field,
  • no thoughts of stopping;
  • watching the months and the years flying by,
  • no thoughts of stopping.

  • Lovely and sweet, evoking the deepest desires.
  • Shiny and colorful, what beautiful attire!
  • Oh, which lacquer-tree cutter would not want you?
  • Until young men call, and elders urge them on,
  • and nursing mothers with warm and sweet bosoms join in,
  • and dry-eyed foot-binding grandmothers chimed in:

  • Blushing Red, maiden in red,
  • around the bend and over the hills.
  • Oh, Blushing Red. Yo!

  • These long rows of buttons don’t hold back a man’s desire,
  • the pickle-munching, potato-eating thinkers and revolutionaries
  • rant about the affairs of Blushing Red, half gasping and panting,
  • staring with eyeballs as wide as wine cups, as spirited as wine cups,
  • gazing at a hill of blushing red, prettier than New Year’s Day, longer-lasting than the hills.

  • Blushing Red, maiden in red,
  • coloring heaven and all below.
  • Oh, Blushing Red. Yo!

  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 8

女儿红

  • 文 / 陈敏

  • 女儿红,女儿红......

  • 比包谷酒比老婆红火的名字,
  • 燃烧得割漆的汉子们眼睛发直。
  • 是该红火的时候,便做次新娘子。

  • 在秋风唢呐的护送下,
  • 羞羞答答姗姗走过徒崖。
  • 徒崖坎子挡不住,
  • 纷飞的岁月挡不住。

  • 漂亮得红艳欲滴,
  • 流光溢彩得出奇。
  • (哪个割漆的汉子不想你哟)
  • 直到少男们吆喝,老头们吆喝,
  • 敞开怀奶孩子香喷喷热烘烘的少妇 和
  • 眨巴着眼皮小脚婆婆一齐吆喝:

  • 女儿红,女儿红,
  • ——啊,那漫山遍野的女儿红!

  • 这些一长排布扣子拦不住欲望的汉子们,
  • 酸咸菜红薯糊糊的思想者和叛逆者们,
  • 一边嘟囔着女儿红的风流韵事,
  • 一边喘着气把眼睛瞪得比酒盅大比酒盅有神,
  • 眺望着
  • 这个比阴历年醇美比山坡久长的时辰。

  • ——女儿红,女儿红,
  • 那漫天遍野的女儿红哟!

January (or An Evening of Reading)

  • by Chen Yanqiang

  • Entering December*,
  • the whole country is on the move.
  • Spring will be delivered to every household.
  • Migrant workers are all going home;
  • beautiful women show up on the streets
  • beneath coverings of wool or down,
  • their heartbeats no longer visible.
  • People are everywhere, shopping for the New Year.
  • I only realized that the year was coming to the end
  • when I flipped the calendar the other day.

  • This is an era of clanking golden coins,
  • and my leaden fatigue has turned beast,
  • sick of the altered lifestyle and gloomy overhang.
  • Right now, the night is getting deeper
  • and feeling even quieter than my loneliness,
  • so I huddle by the electric stove in my inhospitable living room
  • and open People’s Literary Journal that just arrived.
  • I begin to read Factory Girls by Zheng Xiaoqiong
  • and slowly slip into the world of hell
  • that swallowed up so many souls,
  • so many southern Chinese souls.
  • Suddenly I have an urge to text the author
  • and ask her where she will be on New Year's Day.

  • * Referring to December of the Lunar Calendar

  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 3

腊月或夜读

  • 文 / 陈衍强

  • 进入腊月
  • 整个中国都在运输春天
  • 打工的人群陆续返回家乡
  • 大街上突然冒出这么多美女
  • 她们穿着羊毛或羽绒
  • 使我无法看透她们的内心
  • 很多人都在置办年货
  • 我翻日历才发现快到年关
  • 这是一个用金币喧嚣的时代
  • 我积累的疲惫变成困兽
  • 越来越厌倦被修改了的生活
  • 每天装满焦虑和忧郁
  • 现在是安静得比寂寞更深的夜晚
  • 我坐在无法叙述和倾听的家中
  • 打开刚收到的《人民文学》
  • 围着带电的炉火
  • 读郑小琼的《女工记》
  • 次第陷入她用诗歌撕开的
  • 南方底层的伤口
  • 看到无数个苦苦挣扎的灵魂
  • 突然想发短信
  • 问她今年在哪里过年

A Carved Wooden Chair

  • by Chilechuan

  • Not a trace of sky, earth, or ax.....
  • they have no effect on it anymore.
  • All the faults were smoothed out and polished,
  • now it looks like a timeless flower.

  • Someone separated it
  • from many other wooden chairs.
  • It sits alone, like the quietest heart
  • that yields to fate too often: lonely, powerless,
  • being sanded down again and again.

  • An antique, with countless old cuts,
  • it's no longer a chair.
  • Only time comes to rest on it,
  • and no one else
  • dares do the same.

  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 7

雕花的木椅

  • 文 /敕勒川

  • 似乎天空、大地和斧头……已与它
  • 无关,所有的伤口
  • 都被抹平,抛光,幻化成了
  • 永恒的花朵——

  • 一把雕花的木椅,被人
  • 从众多的木椅中分离出来,安静得
  • 不能再安静,像一颗
  • 过分安于命运的心:孤独,无奈……被一粒尘埃
  • 反复敲打——

  • 太古老了,那些疼痛……一把雕花的木椅
  • 已不再是一把木椅,除了时光
  • 已没有人敢
  • 轻易
  • 落座……

Letter to a Friend

  • by Ah Xin

  • Let me tell you about these sheep. In many ways
  • they are like those ocean creatures you know so well:
  • in the benevolence of the creator, they bear children,
  • each has a face of a lad or an old man.
  • These days they are on the hills, a tight flock, a warm flock,
  • with a thin frost on, like a white mountain.
  • Above them are countless constellations:
  • the Bear in the north, the Dipper in the south, the Arabian Aquarius,
  • the Milk Way flowing like the Amazon…ancient but fresh.
  • I set up my tent next to them.
  • My dreams are numerous, too, and each brings its own comfort.
  • Dawn, dripping with dew, floats down to the grassland at the foothills,
  • like an armada of ships sailing towards an unknown sea.
  • As for me, I will return to the city, where
  • my days and fate await me.


  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 6

致友人书

  • 文 / 甘南阿信

  • 现在可以说说这些羊。它们
  • 与你所熟悉的海洋生物具有相似性:
  • 被上帝眷顾,不断地繁殖,长着
  • 一张老人或孩子的脸。
  • 现在它们回到山坡,挤成一团,互相取暖。
  • 现在它们身上覆着一层薄薄的寒霜,和山坡一样白。
  • 现在它们上方的星空也簇拥着无数星座:
  • 北方的熊,南方的榕树,盛净水的阿拉伯水瓶,
  • 南美大河……古老又新鲜。
  • 我的帐蓬就在它们旁边,
  • 我梦见的和它们一样多。安慰也一样多。
  • 黎明抖擞着潮湿的皮毛奔向山下的草地,
  • 像满帆的船队驶往不可测的海洋。
  • 而我将重新回到城市,那里
  • 有等着我的命运和生活

The Wall

  • by Gao Pengcheng

  • I am not alluding to
  • the body and flesh of a generation,
  • but merely talking about some place
  • that looked like someone’s undecorated room.
  • That was the year when I visited a remote schoolhouse in the countryside.
  • On one flaking wall, the red slogan “Long, Long Live…!” was still visible,
  • almost like the branding iron on the skin
  • of a whole generation of people.
  • The sun was particularly soothing on that end-of-April day,
  • but the red paint had seeped through the earthen wall.
  • I couldn't tell if this wall separated
  • the two existences of a man,
  • neither was I sure whether his heart resembled
  • this bare room with such gloomy light–-
  • a wall covered with old newspapers, a certificate of merit,
  • two discolored movie posters for the movie Red Peonies,
  • and an outdated Christian calendar.

  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 1

  • 文 / 高鹏程

  • 我不能说它是一个时代的皮肤
  • 和身体
  • 我不能说它是一个人身体的两面
  • 我要说的仅仅是一间,疑似某人寝室的
  • 陋室。在那年,在
  • 一所偏僻的乡村学校
  • 四月底的阳光正好。斑驳的墙体上,
  • 万寿无疆的红字依旧可辨
  • 像印在皮肤上的烙印
  • 字体的阴影,随着陈年的雨水渗入墙体
  • 我不能说这光线幽暗的陋室
  • 像他的内心——
  • 糊满旧报纸的墙上
  • 分别贴着一张奖状、两幅发黄的
  • 《红牡丹》电影海报以及一张过期的基督教年历

A Petite Flower in Ta'er Monastery

  • by Hu Yonggang

  • In the low ground, even lower, I saw a petite flower.
  • Its head comes out of dense grass, quietly approaching the sunlight,

  • and its golden tendrils, resting on the leaves, dazzle in the sun.
  • It bends menially in the wind as if a pilgrim is giving greetings.

  • It has a dream unknown to all, hidden under tall grasses,
  • but each time a wind blows by, the little flower sees its innermost self.

  • Walking by the petite flower, I feel curiously calm.
  • Dewdrops moisten my garment, my inner emptiness and loneliness.

  • Afar, a prayer in the snow sways his praying wheel,
  • then prostrates lower than the flower, like the wild grass on the plateau.

  • In this vermillion monastery, flowers are the most touching sight,
  • and no passage in the sutra is more vivid than the mutual dependence of two hearts.

  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 1

塔尔寺之花

  • 文 / 青海湖

  • 在低处,甚至更低,我看见一朵小小的花
  • 在草丛中昂起头来,它沉默着,接近日光。

  • 叶脉上,金色的触须与天光辉映
  • 它卑微地弯腰,在风中致意,仿佛是朝拜。

  • 它有不为人知的梦想,深草遮蔽了它
  • 佛寺之风一次次把它吹开,看见自己的心。

  • 而我经过它身边,莫名地静了下来
  • 露水沾湿了我的衣裳,我沾湿了内心的空寂。

  • 远处,一个雪下面祈祷的人摇晃着经筒
  • 他比它更低地匍匐在地上,像紧贴高原的草。

  • 在赤红的喇嘛寺中,没有比花草更美的风景了
  • 没有一道经文比心心相印的依赖更生动。

Vernal Longing

  • by Huang Hongqi

  • Under a heavy workload, my longings are crushed,
  • curling up in a hidden corner.

  • The white vapor rises slowly from a cup of tea,
  • giving off a wisp of familiar orchid scent.

  • It looked like a dimple in the water at first,
  • then morphs into a slim figure in the evening air.

  • With soft chuckles “he-he-he”, she soon
  • floats out, eyes like twinkling stars.

  • “Um, I’m coming to see you,” her lips open slightly,
  • “What are you up to? Still dabbling with poetry?”

  • I am overjoyed, but too shy to answer in one breath,
  • as if my throat is blocked.

  • The moon hangs high in the sky, and all critters are singing,
  • but under the lamp I’m perplexed by the vision of my sweetheart.

  • To avoid giving her a mundane greeting, I put down a verse:
  • “Oh, go ask the East River if he flows farther than my love for you!”

  • The scene vanishes in a flash. The tea is cold,
  • but my true love is near. I will not feel lonely any more.


  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 1

青涩的思念

  • 文 / 黄鸿琦

  • 喧嚣与繁忙挤压着思念
  • 蜷曲在遗忘的角落 潜藏

  • 一杯香茗白色水汽升腾
  • 溢出一丝淡淡的熟悉的体香

  • 水杯里漾出数圈笑靥 幻化出
  • 窈窕的身影 在夜色中轻飏

  • 莞尔一笑 咯咯咯咯 随即
  • 她飘然而至 流眄泛着星光

  • 额 我来看你了 她微动着唇
  • 在忙什么呢 总鼓捣着你的诗行

  • 腼腆与窃喜窒息着 我嗫嚅
  • 呼哧呼哧 气息难以通畅

  • 窗外明月高挂 万籁作声
  • 灯下难以自持 真情面对迷惘

  • 规避人间烟火气息 以诗作证
  • 思君犹如东逝水 试问与之谁短长

  • 倏忽间一切化为乌有 茶凉
  • 孤独不再 有青青爱念相随相伴

Things Get Rearranged

  • by Huang Lihai

  • The world changes subtly as it goes around.
  • The morning coffee aroma feels like the glow from a honeycomb,
  • while outside the window the olive grove still soaks in the twilight mist.
  • Tiny footsteps follow faint sounds to distant places,
  • but the fisherman has returned and is sitting in the courtyard
  • watching a bird foraging in the trees.
  • He still dreams of sending letters home.
  • The sea forgets and the glacier calves icebergs,
  • that's how all things under the sun
  • get rearranged.


  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 8

一些事物被重新安排

  • 文 /黄礼孩

  • 世界潜藏在细微的变化里
  • 早上咖啡飘出香味,如从巢房里射出霞光
  • 窗外低矮的橄榄树,还保持着凌晨以来的潮气
  • 细碎的脚步声把听觉带到远处
  • 而出海归来的渔人,他坐在院子里
  • 看一只在树上寻找食物的小鸟。他写信回国
  • 在自己的梦里。海洋遗忘,冰山坍塌
  • 就在此时,神所珍爱的事物,被重新安排

Tea

  • by Jing Qiufeng

  • Through lovely scenery come and go,
  • in the drizzle of fog and mist,
  • following the sound of exquisite singing,
  • here you are, a Yangtze-River girl.
  • You can’t leave the water;
  • you live, you bathe in the water
  • as if to relive
  • the lovely scenery of your home
  • in the fog and mist,
  • where music floats out at every turn.
  • Homesick,
  • you taste the river in your tea.


  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 5

  • 文 / 井秋峰

  • 从秀山秀水的地方走来
  • 从总是落着雾样的小雨里走来
  • 从一阵阵优美的歌声里走来
  • 你是江南的女子
  • 你离不开水
  • 浴在水中
  • 你就像回到秀山秀水的家乡
  • 回到总是落着小雨的家乡
  • 回到了飞出一阵阵优美的歌声
  • 的家乡
  • 你想家的时候
  • 水也有了江南的味道

The Great Yunnan Empire

  • by Lang Qibo

  • Wumeng likes to sing after a few drinks
  • and he always sings the same old song;
  • I’ve heard it many times
  • but still can’t remember a word of it.
  • Wumeng dreams of building his own empire,
  • calling it The Great Yunnan Empire,
  • but the soberer he gets,
  • the more his empire looks like a castle of delusion,
  • not to mention the absence of a constitution,
  • there isn’t even an outline or guiding principle.
  • The drunken Wumeng
  • is our dear sweet brother,
  • he invited us to his dream in a world without dreams,
  • with him we are happy to call a stag a horse.

  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 13

大滇

  • 文 /郎启波

  • 酒后的乌蒙就爱唱歌
  • 他总会唱的
  • 只有惟一的那首歌曲
  • 我听了他唱了好多次
  • 却从未记住一句歌词
  • 乌蒙一直有个梦想
  • 要建一个自己的王国
  • 叫做大滇帝国
  • 越是清醒的时候
  • 帝国就越没有了踪影
  • 更找不到治国的韬略
  • 或是丁点的方针
  • 酒后的乌蒙,是个
  • 可爱至极的兄弟
  • 我们一起,在没有梦
  • 的梦里,指鹿为马

Essential Matters

  • by Li Li

  • Let me count a few things that I can’t do without.
  • In the past there were letters, so envelopes and post offices were essential.
  • Then, there must be doves, a cool breeze, reveries,
  • and a backdrop of dusk on my way to the post office.
  • A place to say farewell was essential when it's time to leave home;
  • there was a ticket in my hand, him at the windy train station,
  • tears in our eyes, and the satisfaction
  • running down my body as I turned around.
  • Reaching middle-age, children nearby and healthy parents are essential,
  • so are the lovely words on the pages I turn,
  • and the scents of the fruits that he brought to the room.
  • Finally, the peach flowers that bloom overnight,
  • if you smell the sweet-scented ghosts under the trees,
  • please know they are my family who left this world too early.

  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 7

重要的事情

  • 文 /离 离

  • 一直以为,我这一生都是不可缺少的
  • 以前习惯写信,信封和邮局是必不可少的
  • 寄信的途中,鸽子带来清凉和梦想
  • 被它们惊动的黄昏是不可少的
  • 离家时远方的存在是必然的
  • 车票,站台和他在风里
  • 眼角一定是湿润的,我微微转过的
  • 身子是幸福的一种
  • 人到中年,儿女绕膝,父母健在是让人羡慕的
  • 我在灯下翻书,爱迷人的文字也爱
  • 他递来的果子的清香
  • 爱村里一夜间全开的桃花和
  • 花下的鬼,如果他们身怀香气
  • 就是我短命的亲人

Peaceful Avenue

  • by Li Longnian

  • I always feel that fish
  • probably swim up the avenues, to the trees.
  • I catch in the air
  • the exhalations of shellfish
  • and the silver streaks of scabbard fish.
  • Their palpi touch the leaves
  • so they secrete tiny green bubbles.

  • An avenue of graceful trees.
  • I guess it has to do with sea fish.
  • The trees twist and twirl, like fish.
  • In fact, they breathe
  • through the trees’ leafy lungs,
  • nestling up to them carefully,
  • this way they feel the air's pulse
  • and delicate ripples.

  • I am thrilled to discover this secret:
  • With regard to the word “graceful”,
  • the ocean has enchanting explanations.
  • They are encoded
  • in the pure radiance of women’s eyes.


  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 11

静静的街树

  • 文 /李龙年

  • 我一直以为 海鱼们
  • 可能游上了街树
  • 我嗅到空气中 贝壳的呼吸和
  • 带鱼的银白色
  • 它们须角探触 令树叶吐出
  • 隐秘的 绿色气泡

  • 街树窈窕 我估计与海鱼有关
  • 街树扭动腰肢 如鱼
  • 其实只能在空气的微微波动中
  • 用心贴紧树的肺叶
  • 才能有 细微的感觉

  • 我发现了令人惊喜的秘密:
  • 海洋 关于窈窕这个词汇
  • 背后 令人心醉的诠释
  • 它们都写在
  • 女人们眼睛 纯净的光辉里


Seductive Wind

  • by Li Shangyu

  • The telephone is ringing,
  • up blows a black greenish wind,
  • a seductive wind . . . for one’s lost living,
  • but soon the telephone wire, the computer wire
  • all come to intrude in continuous coils; he feels himself bound by wires.

  • Annoyed by wires without end, feeling restricted,
  • the bedroom, the parlor, the kitchen, all have become
  • interrogators, but where is his arbitrator?
  • But in China, the Law only judges the feeble.

  • Seductive Wind, tell him, life only comes once.
  • In the Song Dynasty, men were killed casually, knights walked everywhere.
  • The telephone rings, puffs the green blackish wind,
  • Here comes Spring Girl, seductive wind, but he only feels China’s summer malaise.

  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 6

春女风

  • 文 / 李商雨

  • 电话铃里,吹起墨绿的风
  • 春女风……久已消失的人生
  • 但接着,电话线,电脑线,……
  • 纷至沓来,心已被线占据

  • 线的烦恼,无穷无尽, 他已陷入
  • 卧室,客厅,厨房,全都成为
  • 光阴的审判,可审判者呢?
  • 可在中国,法律只对弱者

  • 春女风,告诉他,生命只有一次
  • 宋朝,杀人轻易,侠客四方行走
  • 电话铃里,觑见墨绿的风
  • 春女如风,而他若苦夏的中国。

Discoveries (from A Worker's Notes)

  • by Li Sheng

  • That was an extraordinary discovery:
  • it is now apparent to us
  • that it would take over 10,000 years
  • on the fastest modern vessel
  • to reach the elusive Milky Way.

  • We go, ah, 10,000 years
  • towards the first dawn and night,
  • towards the first brilliant star.
  • If the sea must dry up, let it dry up.
  • If stones must crumble, let them crumble.

  • We go, ah, 10,000 years,
  • listening to the river in heaven.
  • On the other hand, we still have dinosaur bones
  • sleeping peacefully under out feet;
  • old memories are being recovered bit by bit.

  • So, go, just go! As early as possible,
  • do not hesitate, and do not forget
  • to take along those complicated human emotions,
  • and the truncated lines and boxes of modern poetry.



  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 13

发现, 选自劳动者札记

  • 文/ 李盛

  • 这是一项了不起的发现
  • 现在我们已经知道
  • 头顶上那条时隐时现的银河
  • 用当代最快的运载工具
  • 要走上一万年

  • 我们走啊,一万年
  • 向着这旦复旦息的第一个朝夕
  • 向着这煜煜照人的第一颗星辰
  • 海要枯,就让它枯
  • 石要烂,就让它烂

  • 我们走啊,一万年
  • 聆听头顶上的河流天堂的水声
  • 还有脚底下一付安卧的恐龙骸骨
  • 渐渐恢复起的记忆

  • 就这样走!趁早不要迟疑
  • 更不要忘记
  • 带上我们曾经折迭的情感
  • 和分行折迭的现代诗

Stingy Winter

  • by Li Tong

  • I don’t know who’s handling Big Snow this season,
  • but it shrinks, turning into Lesser Snow,
  • so little that it's now merely a decoration.
  • All of the accumulated snow, if piled up,
  • would not exceed what’s on the tree tops.
  • Stingy winter, it is “as if a poor man holds a fistful of sand”.
  • Just today,
  • I kissed a few snowflakes,
  • and slowed my footsteps for them.
  • Still, in a few minutes, they were all gone.
  • Memories of the north and its grandeur keep coming back,
  • and I long to return to join the horses racing across the field
  • when its severe winter is over—
  • The twigs outside the window show so many crevices,
  • a lot of warmth and moisture,
  • blurry and clean.


  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 7

吝啬的冬天

  • 文 / 李桐

  • 不知是谁,把大雪这个节气
  • 缩成小雪那么小
  • 它成为一种地道的摆设
  • 全部的雪加起来
  • 也不比,树梢上堆积的多多少
  • 吝啬的冬天,“仿佛攥在穷人手里的一把沙子”
  • 就像今天
  • 我把几片雪花亲吻过了
  • 把脚步放慢。它还是几分钟就去了
  • 我会一次次惦记北方的盛大
  • 会与奔跑的马匹一起,在收回严冬之后
  • 重新回到北方——
  • 窗外的枝条,空出许多缝隙
  • 许多温暖和潮湿
  • 模糊又干净

For the Love of a Tree

  • by Li Wei

  • You once said you fell in love with the woods
  • for the love of a tree. How wonderful!
  • Can you perhaps still tell that tree apart from the rest?
  • Later, there is a path into the woods
  • with a log cabin along the way,
  • and an outpost nearby, but no buses will come.
  • It’s for sitting, for listening to the wind
  • and the soft whispers of each tree.

  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 3

因为爱一棵树

  • 李威

  • 你说,因为爱一棵树
  • 而爱上一片林子,多好啊
  • 可是或许,你再也认不出
  • 最初的那棵树
  • 虽然后来,有了林间小路
  • 有了小路旁的木屋
  • 还在近旁,搭建了小站
  • 虽然搭建了小站,也无车可等
  • 只是为了坐着,听听风
  • 虽然风中,有每一棵树的低吟

Fatal Fantasy

  • by Li Xianzhen

  • At first she paints a man,
  • and then a woman.
  • The moment the man and the woman meet,
  • she hears a burst of burning pitter-patter sound.
  • In just a short time,
  • the canvas
  • turns into
  • ash,
  • and a slight wind blows it
  • out of sight.
  • Only at the imaginary edge,
  • the brush still holds a large drop of paint
  • like a tearful eye,
  • trying to refrain from uttering a sound.

  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 1

致命虚构

  • 文 / 兰雪

  • 她先是画了一个男人
  • 接着画了一个女人
  • 男人和女人
  • 一相遇,她就听到“劈劈啪啪”的燃烧声
  • 只一会儿
  • 只一会儿,那块画布
  • 就化为一小片儿
  • 灰烬
  • 风,轻轻一吹
  • 就不见了
  • 只有那支画笔
  • 躺在虚构的边缘上,噙着一大滴墨
  • 就象噙着一大滴泪水
  • 欲语还休……

Spring Comes to Tai'erzhuang

  • by Li Yun

  • Tai'erzhuang, Tai'erzhuang, yesterday you saw war,
  • this morning you saw spring.
  • You see, the crabapple trees in Mr. Wan's courtyards
  • are now blooming, white inside, a touch of pink,
  • a serene field of sweet scents and charm.

  • Sweet scents and charm, no end of it, Ah!
  • I am not at all detached from this.
  • Last night I came by to deliver the stars for you.
  • This morning I stayed because of a flowering tree.

  • Tai'erzhuang, Tai'erzhuang, right now,
  • standing here with you,
  • at this moment, I sing of spring's splendor.
  • War, Peace,
  • Peace, War,
  • they have made me a different person.

  • Tai'er Village, while these blossoms
  • dance around you.
  • I must bear an old sorrow,
  • congealed inside here,
  • congealed within the memory.

  • Oh, Tai'erzhuang, I am not a flower witch,
  • but a woman warrior, born here, now bleeding for you.
  • I hear a low chant in the revolving light,
  • om-mani-pad-me-hum.
  • At last a monk will speak to my soul and lead me away.


  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 8

春到台儿庄

  • 文 / 李云(七月的海)

  • 台儿庄台儿庄,昨天你看见战争
  • 今晨你看见了春天
  • 你看万家大院的海棠开了,白里透粉
  • 冷艳馨香的一大片

  • 冷艳馨香的一大片啊
  • 这一定与我有关
  • 昨夜我架着星空而来
  • 今早,我却被一树海棠花留下

  • 台儿庄台儿庄,此刻
  • 我与你站在一起,为无限春光修辞
  • 战争,和平
  • 和平,战争
  • 已让我先后判若两人

  • 台儿庄,当花朵在你怀中
  • 跳舞的一刻
  • 我必须带着记忆的忧伤
  • 凝固在这里
  • 凝固在记忆里

  • 噢,台儿庄,我不是花妖
  • 我曾是你这片土地上流血的女战士
  • 在转动的晨光里
  • 发出诵经的微响
  • 唵嘛呢叭咪吽
  • 我终将要被通灵的僧人带走

Married Life

  • by Li Zhiyong

  • When we walk together, the pants cling to our legs because of the wind.
  • When we do the laundry together, I talk about my childhood,
  • how in the mountains I saw a pair of sparrows,
  • crows the size of a pillow, and a nameless fruit tree.
  • When we embrace, we don't wish to be seen,
  • nor wish a giant bird would come and lift any of our burdens.
  • If it indeed flies by then, it won't want to take us with it,
  • it would rather go to some other people.
  • If it indeed flies by then, we wouldn't have noticed it anyway.
  • When we enter autumn together, feeling the severe cold,
  • we wish to have another two people with us, so
  • the husband also has a husband, the wife has a wife
  • to do the house work together.
  • When we make a meal together, I ask:
  • how about rice tonight? She says, OK.
  • I say, what else is there to worry about? No worries, she says.
  • When we watch TV together, a few times we
  • forget to close the refrigerator door.
  • When we lie down together without talking, in bed,
  • we look at the roof and notice its gentle glow.

  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 11

夫妻生活

  • 文 /李志勇

  • 我们一起走路时风把裤子吹得紧紧地贴在腿上
  • 我们一起洗衣服时,我说到童年,在山上见到了
  • 麻雀夫妻,乌鸦枕头,还有一树无名的果实
  • 我们拥抱在一起时,不希望有谁看到,也不需要
  • 高飞的大鸟来减轻什么
  • 它如果飞来,也会不屑于把我们带走,它会去找
  • 另外一些人。它如果飞来我们也看不见它
  • 我们一起进入秋天时,深深地感到冷了,感到
  • 还需要两个人来这里,作丈夫的丈夫
  • 和妻子的妻子,在我们的屋里忙碌
  • 我们一起做饭时,我说
  • 还是吃米饭吧,她说,好吧
  • 我说,还愁什么呢。没愁什么,她说
  • 我们一起看电视时几次忘了把冰箱门关上
  • 我们一起躺下时都不说话,望着屋顶,在床上
  • 散发着淡淡的光

Tree Rings

  • by Li Zhuang


  • The ripples inside the tree
  • grow and spread,
  • but no one saw the perpetrator who cast the stone
  • to create them.

  • Under the tree, one heard cicadas and rain;
  • a dog wandered by and lifted his hind leg;
  • lovers embraced, parting four lips;
  • but the thunderclap didn't break the trunk,
  • though a rumble was heard...

  • What a tender heart it has,
  • as if made by a heavenly touch!
  • Let's lay a needle on its groove
  • to feel, to hear
  • time’s recording.




  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 2

年轮

  • 文 / 李庄


  • 可以看到树木的涟漪
  • 在扩大、生长
  • 但看不到谁掷出的那一粒石子
  • 荡漾……

  • 听到蝉声如雨
  • 一只狗走过来抬起一条后腿
  • 一对恋人依偎,张开四片嘴唇
  • 一道闪电尚未折断
  • 声音……

  • 多么苍翠的内心
  • 哦,上帝的手指——
  • 纤细的唱针——触摸
  • ——听
  • 岁月的唱片



Early-Blooming Chrysanthemum

  • by Liu Chengyu


  • I raised my head, and, out of the blue, you were there standing before me.
  • It must have been a dream. I said “Hello, Chrysanthemum” in a whisper
  • for fear my voice would break the spell.

  • Since we met last year, I had been preparing a path for you.
  • First I cleared the snow, then removed the stones,
  • and when I began to look forward to more sunny days,
  • you showed up unexpectedly.

  • Summer had just begun, and I hadn’t yet found a vocabulary
  • to sing your praises; I vowed to write a verse superior
  • to last year’s Four Songs for a Chrysanthemum,
  • to lay it out on the road to welcome you.

  • You stood on the pebbles near the edge of the road,
  • looking down, without a word. I called your name again
  • and was about to wipe the tears off your eyelashes, but you
  • shook your head and said: "We agreed to meet in fall."

  • But I dreamt of you last night,
  • and the endless summer quickly came to an end.



  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 2

菊花提前开了

  • 文 / 刘成渝


  • 一抬头,突然看见你,站在我的面前,像
  • 一个梦。我说,菊。话音很轻,害怕重了
  • 会刺破梦境。自从去年与你相遇后,我就忙着
  • 修缮你来时要走的路。我刚清理完
  • 积雪,拣去路上的石子,正准备
  • 用夏天的阳光,烘烤潮湿的路面,你
  • 突然来了。这个夏天才刚刚开始,我还没有来得及
  • 翻阅词典,选出最美的词汇,为你作诗
  • 我说过今年的诗,一定要超过去年的
  • 《菊花四弄》,我要把那些美丽的句子
  • 插在路的两边,作为夹道欢迎你的状语。
  • 你不说话,老低着头,踩着我丢在
  • 路边的石子。我说,菊,正准备伸手
  • 为你擦去挂在睫毛上的泪珠。你突然
  • 抬头说:说好的,是在秋天相见
  • 可是昨天晚上,我梦见你,把这慢长的
  • 夏季,给删除了。



Ode to An Orchid

  • Liu Congmei

  • Youlan, hidden orchid,
  • concealed in thick woods on a high hill,
  • ordinary people don’t see her still.

  • Youlan, secluded orchid,
  • she does not need to overdress,
  • surpassing the loveliest immortal goddess.

  • Youlan, ghostly orchid,
  • her floating fragrance surrounds,
  • enchanting every heart around.

  • Youlan, tranquil orchid,
  • her beautiful song is a mysterious thing,
  • lightly plucking, gently touching heart strings.

  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 6

戏幽兰

  • 文 / 刘聪美

  • 幽兰幽兰,
  • 深藏密林高山,
  • 凡夫俗子没法看见。

  • 幽兰幽兰,
  • 她不用打扮
  • 胜过神女天仙。

  • 幽兰幽兰
  • 她的芳香飘向人间,
  • 一颗颗心儿被迷恋。

  • 幽兰幽兰,
  • 她美丽的歌儿妙不可言,
  • 轻轻扣动一根根敏感的心弦。

Spring Snow: A New Name for A New Landscape

  • by Liu Guanghui

  • How hopeless is a hint compared to rumors that spread like wildfire.
  • Looking through wisps of clouds, through a thin veil,
  • we see the truth of the matter, but still wait for a spring breeze to come
  • to lure out green shoots, to lift the world out of its gloom,
  • starting from one corner, then the dawning of a new era.

  • The wind has changed direction, the constellations continue to revolve,
  • and we can reasonably expect an overnight surprise.
  • Indeed the landscape has a new color the next morning.
  • The last snow gave the world its finest touch,
  • so the beautiful ones look more beautiful, and the pure look even purer.
  • As if using a magic brush, the last snow signed off.
  • Beneath, the land is the same land as before
  • but we now call it Spring Field instead of Frosty Earth.
  • The country folks show up on mountaintop, wearing hats with white sashes,
  • wave after wave, what an incredible sight.
  • Legends live on in cheerful oral traditions.
  • Snowflakes added wings to spring, enabling it to paint the earth with flying colors,
  • with wild strokes and big splashes that astonish modest minds.
  • Throughout history, masters come from down-home places;
  • they are heroes who give new names to new landscapes.

  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 13

春雪:被代指的江山

  • 文 /刘光辉

  • 暗示是失败的,遍地的传言火一样漫延
  • 隔着一层袅如炊烟的薄纱,所有宁静的观望
  • 都心知肚明,都在等待一缕南风
  • 借一枝芽尖,撩起江山半明半暗的一角
  • 一语道破天机

  • 风向偏转,斗转星移,结局
  • 通常都是被临时改写的
  • 只在一夜之间,山河就被代指换了颜色
  • 雪花纷飞,最后一次画龙点睛
  • 让遍地优雅的更优雅,素朴的
  • 更趋向简单明了的素朴

  • 如同兴之所至的神来之笔,最后一场雪
  • 转眼被交接,山河还是那个山河
  • 只是由寒冬改姓了暖春
  • 遍地的草民,头顶一线雪白的流苏
  • 欢庆的队伍一山漫过一山
  • 层出不穷,万言难尽

  • 传奇都是被传说的,像一个意气风发的比喻
  • 这个春天被雪花插上翅膀,一路飞扬
  • 点、染、皴、擦,不拘一格的笔墨
  • 令所有宁静的观望黯然失色,从来
  • 大手笔,都隐匿民间,像领袖
  • 善于激扬文字,指点江山

The Ruin

  • by Liu Nian

  • The locks are rusty, paint peeling,
  • walls waiting to fall,
  • it is appropriate that I rename this old prosperity RUIN.

  • A two-wheel black chariot drives by,
  • but no one cares if a real doctor or a witch doctor is in it.
  • Therefore I will rename the silent crow on the broken post RECLUSE.

  • The tall foxtail blocks out the sunset and the temple,
  • which no longer answers prayers;
  • therefore I will rename the three-legged stone lion with my name.

  • Nettles grow nettle leaves; morning glories grow glorious leaves,
  • stipa bears tiny white flowers, and loquat will not yield peaches.
  • The all-pervading seasons take care of everything;
  • therefore I will rename the earth MY LOVE.

  • Words become prolific over time but not enough to cover up everything;
  • there will be porcelain pieces to affirm the past.
  • Around the roots of old chestnut trees, there will always be groundhogs busy digging;
  • therefore I will rename this lifeless ruin PROSPERITY.

  • Those who write about money and palaces can do the same for haystack, too.
  • From the top of a haystack, one sees hometown, but the crow sees decay;
  • therefore I will rename the golden evening breeze SORROW.

  • As to the crow that is now stretching its wings and breaking its silence,
  • I will rename it HOPE.



  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 12

废墟

  • 文 /刘年

  • 所有的铁锁都在生锈,所有的粉刷都在剥落
  • 所有的围墙,都在等待倒塌
  • 于是,我把这片繁华,命名为废墟

  • 一辆漆黑的两轮马车刚刚过去
  • 没有人过问,里面坐着医生还是巫师
  • 于是,我把断柱上那只沉默的乌鸦,命名为孤独

  • 狗尾草已经高过了落日和庙宇
  • 所有的承诺,已经变成瓦砾
  • 于是,我把这座缺了一只腿的石狮,命名为自己

  • 荨麻只长荨麻叶,牵牛藤只长牵牛叶
  • 针茅只开细白的花,枇杷树不结一颗桃子
  • 四季如此辽阔,从容和无微不至
  • 于是,我把这片饱含泪水的大地,命名为爱人

  • 时间和茂盛的言词不足以埋葬一切
  • 一定能找到破碎的瓷器,证明历史的骨头
  • 一定有土拨鼠在挖掘老栗树的根
  • 于是,我把这个静如坟墓的废墟,命名为繁华

  • 世人形容金钱和宫殿的,也可以形容草垛
  • 站草垛上,你看到的是故乡,乌鸦,看到的则是死亡
  • 于是,我把这些金黄的晚风,命名为疼痛

  • 于是,我把那只打开翅膀打开沉默的乌鸦
  • 命名为希望



Odes to Mountains and Rivers

  • by Liu Quan

  • Whichever way I turn, I see a weathered world,
  • but there is something else,
  • something else that's invisible, captivating and comforting;
  • I have enjoyed them ten thousand times
  • as death becomes irrelevant.

  • Satin luxury
  • showcases the world's exterior beauty,
  • but a spirit moves through its earthly veins,
  • connected by small forests of
  • skeletal trees.

  • I sing praises of the wind's passage,
  • the earth's verdant virtues,
  • the waning charm of the fairy fox,
  • and the tall tales
  • of this boisterous world.

  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 7

山水赋

  • 文 / 流泉

  • 看见的,都是岁月用旧了的
  • 看不见的
  • 是此生乐于沉浸的
  • 它们,令我心安,并在一万遍消受中
  • 忽略了生死

  • 外部之美
  • 为这个人间带来了锦缎
  • 而真正打通灵魂的,是形而下的血脉
  • 血脉上小树林一样生长的
  • 骨骼

  • 我赞美风过之处,这葱茏的美德
  • 和,渐渐低下去的
  • 白狐之魅
  • 以及,喧嚣中有关风尘的
  • 叙述

The Mountain Gap

  • by Liu Xuejun

  • After the quiet departure of the sheep,
  • a gusty wind pushed through the mountain gap.
  • Before the wind came, I saw only the sheep
  • and their noble ragged clothing,
  • but the wind left a funny taste of death on my tongue.

  • As always, I revere all things beautiful, and know
  • when I look into the mountain gap next time
  • where the sheep are gone without a trace,
  • somehow I know when they return,
  • the wind will have become tattered.





  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 2

山口

  • 文 / 刘学军

  • 我是在目送一群羊悄然离去后
  • 看到大风吹过山口的,在这之前
  • 我的眼里只有羊和羊高贵破烂的衣衫
  • 在这以后,我的眼里只有死亡
  • 卑微的死亡和说不出的缘由

  • 是的,我敬畏一切美好的事物
  • 我还看着山口,看着没有消息的羊群
  • 它们再次回来的时候,山口空着
  • 风开始破烂不堪成为影子

Wednesday Afternoon Tea

  • by Liu Yali

  • Wednesday afternoon,
  • I drank four cups of tea
  • and dozed off three times.
  • It is called Spring Blossom green tea;
  • it tastes a little bitter.
  • Wednesday afternoons, I join colleagues
  • around a round table to drink tea.

  • Tea does not detoxicate,
  • or purify the mind;
  • Spring Blossom Tea is kept in a tea-tin,
  • until it loses all human touch.
  • It is served at every single weekly meeting,
  • meetings so serious they resemble
  • newspaper text ‘set solid’.

  • Wednesday afternoons
  • are not tile-roof, paper-window afternoons.
  • They are not clear-spring, pottery-and-china afternoons.
  • I join my colleagues in a cup of strong tea.
  • We drink alone, in the meeting room,
  • and become a flock of wooden chickens.

  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 5

星期三的下午茶

  • 文 / 刘亚丽

  • 星期三的下午
  • 我喝了四杯茶
  • 打了三次吨儿
  • 一种叫“春尖”的绿茶
  • 味道有些苦涩
  • 星期三的下午
  • 我和同李围着圆桌喝茶
  • 茶不想解毒
  • 也无意清心
  • 茶盛在罐头瓶里
  • 就变得无情无意
  • 茶在每周一次的例会上
  • 严肃得像报刊上
  • 密密排列的铅字。

  • 星期三的下午
  • 不是瓦屋纸窗的下午
  • 也不是清泉陶瓷的下午
  • 我和同李人手一杯浓茶
  • 独自喝成一群
  • 会议室里的木鸡


Distance from the World

  • by Luo Ying

  • By the sea tonight, I ponder my distance from the world.
  • To conduct a survey, my eyes follow the reflections
  • of the stars as they drift farther out to the sea,
  • but they surprise me by rushing back like a school of fish.
  • In fact I would rather they turn into water chrysanthemums.
  • Everybody seems to be chatting, singing
  • or perhaps reading poetry, but I can’t really hear them,
  • perhaps I am only as good as blind when surrounded by darkness.
  • Fortunately cold waves begin to reach me little by little,
  • and I open my mouth hoping the sea breeze will pass through.
  • Suddenly I begin to think about the deserts I crossed, the mountains I climbed,
  • and feel an urge to be embraced by the sea,
  • to be embraced by someone like my mother used to do.
  • Empty seashells, looking like dry leaves or lackluster stars,
  • churn in the restless sea.
  • A beached fish flips up, fortunately no seagulls are nearby.
  • A line of footprints march out to the depths of the sea,
  • for them I map out a constellation chart to aid their return.
  • Just then, I see lilies emerge from the surface of the sea,
  • one by one, pale and silvery.




  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 11

与世界的距离

  • 文 /骆英(黄怒波)

  • 夜晚 我坐在海边思考与这个世界距离的问题
  • 因此 我强迫自己观察星星映照在海面到底能漂多远
  • 在星星变成鱼群从远处蜂涌而回后我不知所措
  • 其实 我宁愿让星星变成小菊花种满海洋
  • 什么都在议论唱歌或者吟诵但我就是听不见
  • 看来 在黑暗中我真的是一个盲者
  • 幸好海浪一点一点地让我感到了凉意
  • 张开口 让海风从我的身体穿越
  • 回想起在沙漠里走在山路上爬我几乎扑进海
  • 我需要任何人像母亲把我紧紧抱在怀里
  • 空贝壳在海岸边像枯叶被海水翻来翻去
  • 它们是海的星星但却不再发光
  • 搁浅的鱼儿跳跃但此刻没有海鸥来啄食
  • 但有一行脚印一直走入了海的深处
  • 我以星星排列的方式为它做好了归途的标记
  • 之后 海面上长出了一株株银灰色的水仙花




November

  • by Meng Ye

  • She knows in November my eyes
  • will gain a little more depth.
  • She comes to see me then.

  • Every year when November comes, she grows a little uneasy.
  • She knows my eyes on such days
  • will have a deeper shade.

  • In November, the sky is almost empty, few birds are overhead.
  • I know on such days, eyes gains a little more depth,
  • not just mine but everyone else’s.
  • ”Let me have a look at you? ” She holds my face up.
  • ”Ah…”
  • It’s as if a big bird, beating its wings, is diving into
  • the deep pool of my eyes.

  • “Is it a bird?”
  • I can’t really tell,
  • but I feel that it reaches very deep.

  • She always looks at me so quietly. She must be able to see
  • I become a little more shriveled every year…




  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 2

十一月

  • 文 / 梦也

  • 她知道,十一月,我的眼睛会变得
  • 深邃起来。
  • 她来看我。

  • 每年的十一月,她就会变得不安。
  • 她知道,我的双眼准会在这样的日子
  • 变得深邃。

  • 十一月,天空晴朗,飞禽稀少。
  • 我知道,在这样的日子,不仅是我,
  • 所有人的眼睛都会变得深邃起来……
  • “瞧瞧好么?”她捧住我的脸。
  • “呀——”
  • 一只大鸟抖着翅膀,向我的眼球深处
  • 沉下去……

  • “是鸟么?”
  • 我也说不清。
  • 我只感觉到:向深处去,向深处去……

  • 她静静地看着我,能看得出,
  • 我一年比一年更枯萎……



An Afternoon in Yunnan

  • by Na Ye

  • Afternoon in Yunnan,
  • no mention of poetry,
  • no exchange about human sufferings before we went to bed.
  • We were two women,
  • neither was a mother.
  • We talked about the starry sky, the philosophy of Kant,
  • Mother Teresa, and cardiology.
  • We mused about those atheists that turned pious in old age,
  • and how shadows could be prettier than the objects.
  • There was a different perspective then: being childless kept us whole.

  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 8

云南的黄昏

  • 文 /娜夜‏

  • 云南的黄昏
  • 我们并没谈起诗歌
  • 夜晚也没交换所谓的苦难
  • 两个女人
  • 都不是母亲
  • 我们谈论星空和康德
  • 特蕾莎修女和心脏内科
  • 谈论无神论者迷信的晚年
  • 一些事物的美在于它的阴影
  • 另一个角度:没有孩子使我们得以完整

My Lost Herd, from Love and Songs

  • by Nie Le

  • My oxen are missing.
  • Let me tell you, my daughter,
  • our herd has disappeared,
  • and surely you will ask me, your papa,
  • where have they gone?
  • I don’t know either, my daughter.
  • I also ask myself: where have they gone?
  • Just like you asked me, I also asked Grandpa.
  • Grandpa said that after the tribe died out,
  • our oxen just wandered off.
  • In fact, everyone wants to know
  • where they have gone, but no one knows.
  • In our colorful auspicious dreams,
  • they often appear,
  • a herd moving over the great land
  • like a mud slide,
  • moving and shifting, oh!

  • We live in an unfamiliar world,
  • in completely new and strange times.
  • Our lives, our customs
  • are really the same as the others’
  • except we are often ridiculously confused.

  • In our village, in the middle of the city,
  • we frequently feel lost.
  • In long dark nights,
  • we think of our distant hometowns,
  • imagine some ancient tribes,
  • a fire pit somewhere faraway in the sun.
  • We dread everything.
  • We live and die naked.
  • Our ox herd got lost;
  • in fact, it’s not that important
  • where they have gone.

  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 13

我的牛群丢失了(选自组诗:爱与歌)

  • 文 /聂勒

  • 告诉您,我的女儿
  • 我们的牛群丢失了
  • 您一定会问爸爸
  • 它们去了哪里
  • 我也不知道 我的女儿
  • 我也问自己,它们去了哪儿了
  • 如同您问我,我也问过爷爷
  • 爷爷说,部落消亡以后
  • 我们的牛群就走失了
  • 其实,它们去了哪儿
  • 所有人都想知道 所有人都不知道
  • 在我们彩色吉祥的梦里
  • 它们无数次地闪现
  • 一群群 泥石流般
  • 在大地上移动 移动啊
  • 我们生活在陌生的世纪
  • 一个崭新而陌生的时代
  • 我们的生活方式其实
  • 跟别人没有什么两样
  • 只是我们常常莫名地迷惘
  • 在乡村,在城市的中央,我们常常走失
  • 在漫长的黑夜里
  • 我们遥想着远方的故乡
  • 遥想着远古的部落 或火塘
  • 在那遥远的部落的阳光下
  • 我们无所不能无所畏惧
  • 我们赤裸裸地活着
  • 赤裸裸地死亡
  • 我们的牛群走失了
  • 其实,它们去了哪儿
  • 并不重要



The Old Donkey

  • by Niu Qingguo

  • She is old, the donkey who plowed our field year after year.
  • The first revelation came the day she knelt on her front legs
  • and the cart was pushed uphill by Father
  • with every thread of his strength.

  • That evening, Father embraced the donkey’s skinny legs
  • like a man circling his arm around an old friend's shoulders.
  • He said, “We are old, you and I.”

  • Now, the donkey seemed to know she served no purpose
  • and lost interest in water and hay.
  • The ragged coat she had worn for a lifetime
  • showed a bald scar, the size of a hand.

  • I told Father to take her to the market,
  • but they always came back together
  • like a young couple, forced by parents to divorce,
  • leaving home at dawn and returning together timidly at dusk.

  • The other day, I stepped outside
  • and saw the donkey, chin on the fence;
  • she beckoned me with a trembling voice, so bleak and so sad,
  • but Father said he knew what she meant to say.


  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 4

毛驴老了

  • 文 / 牛庆国

  • 帮父亲耕了多年地的毛驴 老了
  • 它的老 是从它前腿跪地
  • 直到父亲从后面使足了劲
  • 才把车子拉上坡的那天开始的
  • 那天 父亲搂着毛驴的瘦腿
  • 像搂着一个老朋友的胳膊
  • 父亲说 老了 咱俩都老了
  • 现在 它或许知道自己不中用了
  • 水不好好喝 草也不好好吃
  • 穿了一辈子的破皮袄
  • 磨光了毛的地方 露出巴掌大的伤疤
  • 我几次让父亲把它卖掉
  • 但几次父亲都把它牵了回来
  • 像早年被老人逼着离婚的两个年轻人
  • 早上出去晚上又怯怯地回来了
  • 那天我从屋里出来
  • 它把干枯的脑袋搭在低矮的圈墙上
  • 声音颤抖着 向我呼唤了几声
  • 那么苍凉 忧伤
  • 父亲说 他知道毛驴想说什么

Tea Creek

  • by Peng Shibin

  • Beyond the sandy bend is the Rain Alley
  • that reminds us of Mr. Dai Wangshu*;
  • there is Tea Creek, too, which belongs to Guo Moruo^.
  • Its water is clear as before,
  • but sadly there are no fish.
  • The old ficus tree finally fell down two years ago,
  • standing alone another forty-three years and a half
  • after the Tea Temple turned into a ruin.

  • I haven't tasted Tea Creek’s tea;
  • good tea needs good water.
  • Perhaps the fish have returned to the river
  • as tea takes refuge in the hills.

  • In my imagination, the Tea Creek is overrun
  • with duckweed, and flanked by deep green trees,
  • fish circling the shallow bottom,
  • pretty much agreeing with the description
  • in Mr. Guo’s book.

  • *Dai Wangshu, 1905-1950, is best remembered
  • for his poems 'Rainy Lane' and 'Chopped-off Finger'.
  • He was the editor of Modern Literature.

  • ^Guo Moruo, 1892-1978. His poem 'Goddess' was a forerunner of new verse in China.

  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 5

茶溪

  • 文 / 彭世彬

  • 沙湾以外 雨巷是属于戴望舒的
  • 茶溪 就属于郭沫若

  • 遗憾的是 水依然清清却没有鱼
  • 那棵老榕树前两年才倒了
  • 为纪念不复存在的茶土寺
  • 又坚持了四十三年零五月

  • 还没有考证茶溪的茶
  • 或许好茶就需好水
  • 抑或是鱼归大河茶皈高山

  • 想象中的茶溪 布满浮萍
  • 鱼翔浅底 树很绿
  • 与郭老书中的描写 大体相似

Qu Yuan, the Poet ( c. 340 BC – c. 278 BC)

  • by Ren Xianqing

  • You were doomed to be ignored by the king
  • unlike the trickling river
  • that was good at playing the chords of your heart.
  • Finally you turned your head and morphed into a fish;
  • that might be a blessing
  • or did you just declare war?

  • You didn't set out to be a writer
  • but your lament built a colossal poem,
  • lucid, sharp, and cool,
  • where every word was set to withstand wind.

  • Storms and melancholy filled the chasm
  • between you and the king's court;
  • even the cranes crooned for your despair
  • in and out of the ragged reeds.
  • Who would be there to pick up the pieces
  • when life’s better part was shattered?

  • Tired of being the only soul unsoiled,
  • tired of being the only sober head,
  • you bent your dagger,
  • honed for immediate action
  • but lying idle.

  • Thereupon you gave yourself up
  • to become the seed of life
  • for generations to come.

  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 5

屈原

  • 文 / 任先青

  • 你注定感动不了朝廷
  • 日渐消瘦的江河
  • 却深深感动着你
  • 扭头化而为鱼
  • 是一种幸福
  • 抑或一种对立

  • 无意搦管为文
  • 建筑骚体却如大匠运斤
  • 清辉冷冽
  • 字字倚风而立

  • 一些风雨 一些悒郁
  • 深刻于头颅与宫墙的距离
  • 荻花飘零雁鸣悲怆
  • 有谁俯拾
  • 楚音楚色破碎一地

  • 举世混浊独清不如不清
  • 众人皆醉独醒不如不醒
  • 一柄利剑
  • 既然不得削铁如泥
  • 索性 折断

  • 于是
  • 一只粽子
  • 营养后人千年!

Mu Xi’s Six Persimmons

  • by Ren Lin

  • Magical ink wash—
  • solid color here,
  • fainter there, and almost clear in other places—
  • sumptuous flesh wrapped in thin skin.
  • These two persimmons
  • are good to go with wine.

  • A lack of color, not at all fashionable,
  • no wonder monks are compared to persimmons.
  • In fact these persimmons are monks.
  • Monks, they do not possess colors.

  • At the end of autumn, the fruit is a little tart, a touch of frost,
  • the way of the monks—
  • ethereal, but not lonesome.
  • Monks, they do not possess loneliness.

  • Even more intriguing is
  • the stems of the fruits were painted with firm strokes.
  • At the forefront or in the back,
  • the dry stems, felt like burnt ink,
  • look all the more fascinating.

  • *Mu Xi (Muqi Fachang) was a Buddhist monk and painter of the Southern Song Dynasty (1127-1279). His paintings 'Six Persimmons' is housed in the Daitoku-ji temple in Kyoto,Japan.

  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 12

牧谿的《六个柿子》*

  • 文 /人邻

  • 水墨那味儿,
  • 笃实的,
  • 还有淡墨,近乎无墨,皮薄而汁肉饱满的
  • 两个柿子,
  • 颇可以佐酒的。
  • 无色,无款,
  • 也才僧人即柿子,
  • 柿子也即僧人呀。
  • 僧人本无色。
  • 霜降了,一点儿涩涩的味儿,薄薄染上了,
  • 也是僧人的味儿。
  • 淡,可是不孤寂。
  • 僧人本无孤寂。
  • 玄妙的是
  • 隶书味儿的叶柄。
  • 柿子之前,之后,
  • 那干硬的焦墨一样的叶柄,
  • 是更有味儿的。

  • *牧谿,宋末元初禅僧。元吴太素《松斋梅谱》记载:“僧法常,蜀人,号牧谿。喜画龙虎、猿鹤、禽鸟、山水、树石、人物,不曾设色。多用蔗渣草结,又皆随笔点墨而成,意思简当,不费妆缀。”《六柿图》现存日本大德寺龙光院。

Waiting for a Train in the Land of Poetry

  • by Ren Xianqing

  • I am waiting for a train in the land of poetry,

  • waiting in hope for its clanging sound and forceful roaring past!
  • Let its display of great momentum shock me and traverse me.
  • As if anticipating a grand celebration, I'm the very first
  • to hear my own thumping heart.

  • With the classics open, thoughts of love growing, and my joints flexing,
  • the train speeds up, laden with flowers—-fresh, vivid, and profuse.

  • Thereupon, who cares if I'm driven to join the Liangshan rebels by a pile of words?
  • I don’t mind that I grow melons in empty lots but reap beans;
  • I don’t mind being misread by you or these preposterous times.

  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 1

等待诗里的火车

  • 文 / 任先青

  • 我在等待诗里的一列火车

  • 等待它 铿锵的足音 凌厉的啸呼
  • 大气磅礴 震撼我 穿越我
  • 仿佛等待一次盛大庆典 我率先
  • 听到自己嘭嘭的心跳

  • 经典打开 情思渐盛 骨骼拔节
  • 鲜活 饱和 火车满载花朵疾驶而来……

  • 于斯 我已不在乎被一摞词语逼上梁山
  • 不在乎 空格地里种瓜得豆
  • 不在乎 被你和尖刻的生活 误读

Cliché

  • by Rong Rong

  • A man and a woman—
  • it's like a traffic accident
  • between an old car and an even older car.
  • The old street had been rerouted,
  • so they met at the new freeway exchange one day.
  • During a traffic jam, they collided
  • — he and she —
  • like two vehicles.

  • Their promises are the first to be broken,
  • but lies will live another day
  • but with growing disappointments.
  • The sky looks shattered through the windshield,
  • and dealing with loss will devour half of the spring.
  • In the dark, secrets and pangs of desire
  • all come to surface, again and again.
  • Who knows how to navigate the maze of traffic rules?

  • It hurts because of their commitment,
  • but once again it proves the weakness of the will.
  • After one bloody injury: from the nerve ends to the brain,
  • even the flesh contracted anxiety disorder.
  • Speeding, red lights, one-way streets, traffic tickets—
  • a love affair has become a mad maneuver—
  • no ambulance but time can come to their rescue.

  • They are two survivors.
  • Can he realign?
  • Can she forget the nagging doubts about the car’s reliability?
  • She has become the most careful driver,
  • worried about wrecking her second-hand car.

  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 3

老套的故事

  • 荣荣

  • 我愿意把它看成交通事故
  • 一个男人与一个女人
  • 一辆旧车和一辆更旧的车
  • 十年前的街道早已改道
  • 就在刚落成的立交桥拐弯处
  • 一次堵塞 碰撞
  • 他和她 车与车

  • 报废的总是许诺
  • 谎言在更新 失望在升级
  • 挡风玻璃碎裂了天空
  • 直接损失达半个春天
  • 隐晦的细节 揪心的欲望
  • 在暗处反复开放
  • 严密的交通条例里又不知所终

  • 受伤害的理由也是献身的理由
  • 再一次被证实的
  • 依然是内心脆弱的意志
  • 一次大失血:从感官到神经
  • 连皮肤也患了焦渴综合症
  • 超速 红灯 单行道 罚单
  • 当一场爱情变成一次发疯
  • 时间是最有效的救护

  • 现在是两个幸存者
  • 他偏移的方向是否修复?
  • 而她老在怀疑车辆的性能
  • 这让她成了一个最小心的司机
  • 害怕她的二手车再一次失控

Aboard the Ship

  • by Sha Ma

  • Now we are on board, no more talk
  • of depressing topics;
  • or debates about
  • those pet aversions in capitalist countries.

  • Sit your ass down on the metal plank.
  • Doesn't it make you feel a little numb?

  • We've got to learn to be
  • that girl by the window,
  • eating dry beans
  • and looking out at the sea.

  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 4

上了船

  • 文 / 沙马

  • 上了船就别说些
  • 令人沮丧的话
  • 别议论资本主义国家里
  • 发生的那些鸟事。

  • 一屁股坐在轮船的铁板上
  • 是不是有些麻木。

  • 要向站在窗口的
  • 小女孩学习
  • 她一边吃着豆子
  • 一边望着海水

Predictions of Snow Are Rarely Accurate

  • by Song Huiyuan

  • My wife said,
  • “Predictions of snow are rarely accurate.”

  • Just like on the day of my scheduled return,
  • my daughters are all waiting.

  • It was agreed that it would be yesterday,
  • but still no sign of it today.

  • Even if it does show up, in just a few days
  • all is melted, vanished.

  • May as well be a no show,
  • my wife said.

  • Besides leaving the front door wet,
  • besides leaving every home-coming road wet,

  • what good is snow?
  • What good is snow? And it's so cold!

  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 8

雪的预告总是不准的

  • 文 /宋惠元 (柳思)

  • 妻子说了
  • 雪的预告总是不准的

  • 好比我的归期
  • 女儿都盼着

  • 说好昨日来
  • 今天还没有到

  • 来了也呆不住几天
  • 就化开了,就不见了

  • 有时还真不如不来
  • 妻子说了

  • 除了把家门弄弄湿
  • 把条条归路弄弄湿

  • 雪有什么好
  • 雪有什么好?还那么冷净

Ow, Mama!

  • by Song Yu

  • Ow, Mama!
  • I really don’t like you combing my hair so much.
  • I can’t sit still. Outside, grasses are all sprouting, Mama.
  • You still want to give me red hair ties and green hair ties.
  • While calling me a little spoiled brat,
  • you braided my hair like twisted dough.
  • My comrades in the field are shouting battle cries,
  • Mu Guiying is about to lead the charge.
  • My right-hand man Yang Zhongbao, him, him, him,
  • he waits for me to return like a hero missing in action.
  • Ow, Mama!
  • The peach-wood comb is growing peach flowers—
  • I am doomed to offend with my wild roaming heart.
  • You cannot cure
  • your little spoiled brat.

  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 8

哎哟,妈妈

  • 文 / 宋雨

  • 哎哟,妈妈
  • 妈妈,我真的不喜欢你再给我梳头
  • 我坐不住。外面的小草都发芽了,妈妈
  • 你还要给我扎上红头绳,绿头绳
  • 一边骂我是黄毛丫头,一边拧着麻花。
  • 伙伴们在野外喊杀阵阵,穆桂英就要挂帅了
  • 我的杨宗保他,他,他
  • 他在等待一个失而复得的我
  • 哎哟,妈妈。
  • 桃木梳子不小心生出了桃红
  • 我这个命犯桃花的
  • 无可救药的
  • 你的野丫头妆

Total Eclipse of the Moon

  • by Wa Dao

  • I dug a hole for the moon, to bury it
  • so the sky would be calmer, darker, and deeper----
  • made for an elope or going astray.
  • A boat is hidden in the swaying reeds,
  • on board is the money I brought for you.
  • Wait for a cue from a crow or the wind
  • and launch the boat into the rocking waves
  • through the fog.

  • But don't tarry too long before you return, say two years,
  • in the spring when lives and greenery re-emerge.
  • You shall ride on a big ship
  • and come to dock on the riverfront, next to the throngs of people.
  • There we may by chance meet again
  • like two crickets missing an old rivalry, touching
  • before re-engaging in three hundred rounds of wrestling,
  • that is to say if we don't just walk on by,
  • letting our eyes sparkle just to say goodbye.

  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 2

月全食

  • 文 / 瓦刀

  • 那是我掏的洞,正好掩埋月亮
  • 对面的夜,宁静而深邃
  • 适合出轨,更适合出逃
  • 芦苇荡里,有为你准备的小船和
  • 几两碎银
  • 截获一滴鸟鸣或一缕细碎的风声
  • 作为暗号
  • 一叶扁舟就颠簸在烟波浩渺中

  • 时间不要太长,就选择两年后吧
  • 在草木返青,万物萌动的时候
  • 你乘大船而来
  • 在码头、在江边、在人流中
  • 我们不期而遇
  • 就像两只久失对手的蟋蟀
  • 碰碰触须,再战三百回合
  • 也可以装作互不相识
  • 擦亮眼睛之后,擦肩而去

On Love Fantasy of the Lowest Kind

  • by Wang Jiming

  • 1.

  • It happened only once, before I was 50 and can never be repeated again,
  • when I indulged in an unspeakable pleasure for two years
  • ---carnal pleasure, pure sensual pleasure--
  • not only in luxury hotels, sometimes
  • in cheap hourly rooms or in even darker corners, too.
  • It happened not only at night, even more often on springtime mornings.
  • Whenever my body felt tormented by desires,
  • I would squander away what treasures people were eager to have
  • just to indulge myself for one moment---
  • making sure the shades of the curtains and the bed sheets,
  • the brightness of the lamps and the ambiance were just right.
  • I indulged in living and couldn’t care less about what life was for.
  • Of course, what I did violated the codes of conduct
  • of my countrymen and would be condemned if known.
  • Even though it began with love, our love had no future.

  • Still, I let my body and soul enter yours,
  • my lips pressed on yours, soon
  • all was obliterated and nothing else mattered anymore,
  • including writing and reading
  • until one day I was bored with it. So, not long ago,
  • I curbed my shameful, violent libido
  • and found another way to channel my desires.
  • Otherwise, who knows what would have happened to me,
  • probably destroyed, completely destroyed!

  • 2.

  • Only if I were sufficiently restless, talented and idle,
  • would I publicize our secret pleasure of those years
  • --- in poetry or another art form ---
  • I feel a new round of desires springing up in me --
  • yesterday I passed by the pleasure house where
  • we made love again and again, and all day I was absorbed
  • in the memory and couldn't think or accomplish a thing.
  • So when the night quieted down, I drew your beautiful nude body from memory
  • on a large piece of paper
  • and stared at it with my sleepy eyes until dawn.
  • My head was wrapped in the heat of our entangled bodies,
  • the apple scent of your hair, your silky skin and almost perfect curves,
  • your magical hands, lips and tongue, my desperate climax and blissful despair, in and out,
  • ---the pleasure of our love was so unique, and like a daze
  • we couldn’t help but returning to it again and again.
  • We even wrote it into our will----
  • It’s time for me to open the hidden envelope while we are still in this world.
  • Let me try to tell it under broad daylight.
  • Evoking the power of my desires and the ability for graphic fantasies,
  • I will reshape our bodies into youthful strength and beauty,
  • but how I worry that I am so inept at poetic artistry
  • that our enduring love, our secret love would be reduced to something
  • beneath the dignity of our souls.

  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 2

最低虚构笔记

  • 文/王吉明 (北陵王)


  • 五十岁之前仅有的一次———不可能有第二次了。
  • 我沉溺于一种不正当的快乐达两年之久,
  • 那种纯粹肉体的快乐,那种纯粹感官的快乐。
  • 不仅仅在豪华旅馆的房间里,有时候
  • 也在临时租赁的简陋平房里,或者黑暗的角落。
  • 也不仅仅是夜晚,春天的上午应该更频繁。
  • 只要我的肉体整个儿受着欲望的折磨,
  • 我就会愚蠢地忽略掉所有的人们孜孜以求的
  • 贵重事物,而只是专注于感官的舒畅———
  • 甚至于窗帘和床单的色调,灯光的明暗程度,
  • 以及整个空间的氛围———
  • ———我忽略了人生只专注于生命。
  • 当然,我知道在这个国家里我的行为
  • 是有违道德的,受谴责的。尽管
  • 肇始于爱但于爱情却是没有出路的。


  • 然而,当我全身心地进入另一具肉体,
  • 当我的嘴唇上压着另一张嘴唇,
  • 一切都不那么重要了,不存在了,
  • 甚至享受之后的阅读和书写……
  • 幸好后来我开始厌倦了。就在不久前,
  • 我及时地制止了我身上那性欲魔鬼的无耻暴行,
  • 同时给我的欲望找到了另一条通道。
  • 否则,我真的不知道那种不正当的快乐
  • 会怎样地将我毁灭


  • 但愿我激情澎湃、才华横溢又无所事事,
  • 可以把我们持续多年的秘密性爱历程公诸于众。
  • ———以唯美的形式,以诗歌的形式———
  • 我感到新一轮的欲望像暗泉在体内汩汩翻涌。
  • 昨天我走过我们曾在其中做过无数次的
  • 快乐之屋。一整天我不能想别的、干别的。
  • 在一大张白纸上,在夜阑人静时刻,
  • 我画下我记忆中你那迷人的裸体。
  • 我瞌睡的眼盯着那幅涂鸦之作看了一整夜。
  • 温热的头脑里回旋着肉体和肉体的叠加与纠缠,
  • 你头发的苹果香味,你肌肤的润泽,几近完美的裂纹,
  • 你好似被施了魔法的手,你的唇和舌,
  • 进入、撤出,还有我绝望的高潮、幸福的沮丧。
  • ———这段秘密性爱经历是如此与众不同,
  • 多年来使我们欲罢不能,欲说还休。
  • 我们甚至把它写进了遗嘱里———
  • 是到了启封的时候了,趁我们还都活着。
  • 非常有必要通过我的笔让它大白于天下。
  • 我相信在我欲望的管辖之下,我色情斑斑的想象力
  • 能够重塑我们肉体的年轻、健康和俊美,
  • 在诗歌艺术里。我只是担心我唯美的描述流于庸俗,
  • 会把那种持久的见不得人的感官快乐
  • 降低到令人生厌的灵魂的层面。

Dirt Road

  • by Meifu Wang

  • The dirt road and I, we resemble each other—
  • not very modern, nor durable.
  • In a camera lens, you will see us through a yellow haze.
  • If you wish to follow the road to the coconut beach,
  • it will take you a morning and an afternoon on foot,
  • but there is always a charming fragrance along the way.
  • When I close my eyes, I hear footsteps—
  • in groups of threes or fives, light and lively,
  • a chorus of footsteps, like a song with wings
  • that lifts me out of despair.

  • I would listen to it in the morning.
  • I would listen to it in the afternoon.

  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 4

土路

  • 文 /王美富

  • 我和腳前的土路有點相似,
  • 沒什麽現代元素,使不出多少力氣,
  • 面對照相機,總會蒙上一圈黃暈;
  • 如果想去欣賞那心愛的,婆娑的椰林,
  • 還得徒步一個早晨又一個下午,
  • 可是它總是散發出迷人的芳馥。
  • 每當我閉上眼睛,就聽見腳步——
  • 三五成群,輕快,靈活,腳步的合唱,
  • 就像乘載歌聲的翅膀——於是我不再絕望,
  • 也許那時正是早晨,或是黃昏。

Afternoon

  • by Wang Qiang

  • I have the habit of being transfixed; for instance,
  • this afternoon, which seems to be submerged in water,
  • I haven’t moved my eyes away from the wall.
  • My eyes gaze at where the sunrays make a mark,
  • moving from the ground up the wall;
  • their waves now cover a wider swath than before.

  • Shadows are this way, they come secretly
  • to occupy the space daylight leaves out.
  • Oftentimes I stay in such heavenly silence
  • and easily expend the entire day,
  • but don’t feel the slightest remorse about it.

  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 2

午后

  • 文 / 王强(红石)

  • 我总是容易迷恋上一种事物。比如
  • 在这个似沉在水里的午后,
  • 我的目光没有轻易从一侧的墙壁上拿开
  • 我紧盯着一束阳光的痕迹
  • 从地上一直移动到墙壁上 。
  • 它比几个小时之前波及的范围更大。

  • 阴影总是这样隐蔽的占领
  • 白昼空出的部分。
  • 我总是在神授的寂静里
  • 轻易耗尽一天的时光
  • 而我并不感到丝毫的悔意。

Spring Wind Ballad

  • by Wang Zhiguo

  • The moon glows
  • like white sheep on the great heartland;
  • a night of grazing on the snowy hill,
  • they've messed up the earth’s pretty clothing.

  • By a white house where butter lanterns
  • light up the upper room at night for prayers,
  • a maiden is picking flowers, her heart fluttering.
  • On whose heart will she build her paradise?

  • Two Kelsang Metogs*, one world of care,
  • stand in the untroubled air of spring.
  • Where is my bride Snowy Mountain, for whom
  • I will lift a barn lantern to come home together?

  • Spring wind climbs over a dozen hills
  • as green grass sweetens the chins of the sheep and yaks.
  • Thirty years, the mighty wind visits this great land,
  • blowing away the chills,
  • spreading the longings for a dowry in heaven.

  • *Translator’s note: 'Kelsang Metog' is the Tibetan name for the Kalsang flower, commonly called the Cosmos or Comea plant.

  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 7

春风谣

  • 文 /王志国

  • 月光如白羊
  • 卧在大地的心上
  • 一夜嚼乱雪山草地的花衣裳

  • 酥油点灯,白雪上房
  • 夜夜诵经的佛堂
  • 姑娘拈花,内心荡漾
  • 谁的内心端坐着她的天堂

  • 两朵格桑一世心伤
  • 动人的春色里
  • 谁将是我的雪山
  • 提着马灯迎娶的新娘

  • 春风爬上十二座山冈
  • 青草绿疼牛羊的下巴
  • 三十年春风浩荡
  • 吹走大地寒凉
  • 吹来人间的念想天堂的嫁妆

Giant Panda (from The Zoo)

  • by WeiWei

  • Every time I go to the zoo to see the giant panda,
  • I remind myself:
  • Its white is not a white cat’s white,
  • and its black is not a black cat’s black,
  • but more like an infant's eyes,
  • their pure white and their pure black.

  • Every time I return from the zoo,
  • I rejoice because of the panda:
  • among everything from pink blossoms to green leaves,
  • from wildlife to domesticated animals,
  • from black&white to color photography,
  • it looks more authentic than the rest, refusing
  • to lure with striking colors.

  • “I so hope my evolution
  • can help you fulfill your dream for simplicity.”
  • Every time I think of the giant panda,
  • I wonder about the purpose of its evolution.


  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 11

大熊猫 (选自组诗:动物园)

  • 文 /围围(付正洪)

  • 每一次去动物园看大熊猫,
  • 我时时提醒自己:
  • 它的白不是白猫的白,
  • 黑也不是黑猫的黑,
  • 而是一个婴儿
  • 眼白的白,眼黑的黑。

  • 每一次从动物园回来,
  • 我都为它感到庆幸:
  • 从红花到绿叶,
  • 从野生到家养,
  • 从黑白照相机到彩色照相机,
  • 它总是一副拒绝出彩的样子。

  • “我多么希望我的进化史,
  • 能够圆你的退化之梦。”
  • 每一次想到大熊猫,
  • 我就想到它进化的目的。

The Poet's Indignation

  • by Wei Xue

  • Previously I thought
  • they took opposing stands only on paper.
  • Their indignation sounded more or less feeble and
  • too weak to withstand any headwinds.
  • Those in power laughed, and the rich mocked:
  • “Let them go crazy.”
  • Their screams were as pale as their complexions.
  • But in fact there are tiny eternal flames in their hearts
  • that still shine with Gu Cheng’s(1) black eyes
  • and Haizi’s springtime garden.
  • There will come one midnight
  • when everyone is awakened by Beidao’s(2) fatal gunshot,
  • God knows who will be the one
  • hanging upside down from the tree this time!

  • (1): Gu Cheng, Haize were two poets who committed suicide in recent history.
  • (2) Beidao is a widely admired contemporary Chinese poet.

  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 1

诗人的愤怒

  • 文 / 未雪

  • 原本以为
  • 他们只在纸页上抗争
  • 那种愤怒多少有点单薄
  • 和弱不禁风
  • 当权者笑了,有钱人笑了:
  • 让他们去疯吧
  • 喊声苍白一如他们的脸色
  • 其实他们内心有一团小小的火焰
  • 怎么都吹不灭
  • 火焰里有顾城的黑眼睛
  • 还有海子的春天
  • 总有一天午夜
  • 所有人会在北岛致命一枪中惊醒
  • 那倒挂在树上的
  • 会是谁呢?

Jam Session at the Lotus Pond

  • by Wuding

  • Quickly they flee the sky
  • and come down as heavy rain,
  • falling on me and darkening my frock.
  • A brood of cicadas sing a red-army song,
  • cheering up this summery day.
  • The wind blows on, minding its own business.

  • A lotus seedpod sways in the twilight,
  • rising over a pond of gently-caroling leaves.
  • The night before, the fireflies didn't light up,
  • leaving the toads to croak in and out in the dark;
  • they sang out of tune, nowhere close to a harvest song,
  • but the rain kept falling, striking the rice flowers.

  • It's very tempting but too dangerous to look back.
  • The wind is picking up, bending the sun rays,
  • but it cannot move an old iron bloc of days
  • that rubbed against the skin of my tempestuous youth.

  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 8

莲叶乱叫

  • 文 / 巫丁

  • 水滴纷纷逃离天空 一场豪雨
  • 让布衣的颜色 淡了又深
  • 铺天盖地的鸣蝉唱红歌
  • 继续 季节喧嚣的传统
  • 而风在吹 风自由自在

  • 晨光中的一支莲蓬
  • 摇摆 一池莲叶乱乱地轻叫
  • 昨夜萤虫熄灯 蛙声参差不齐
  • 雨 浇湿所有的稻花
  • 不着调 蛙们不唱丰年

  • 这时候怀旧 迷人而危险
  • 风起 吹动那些光线
  • 吹不动日子 日子坚硬如铁
  • 碰痛旧时光中的莽撞少年……

An Epitaph

  • by Xin You

  • Here lies an untiring minstrel.
  • Invariably he carried his heart around, singing everywhere he went.
  • At present, he’s asleep with ten volumes of poetry
  • under his pillow.

  • In his writing, he took great pains
  • to sing the praises of stones —- the obstinate ones
  • with rough edges, contending with wind and gale.

  • In his verses, he liked to write about weeds,
  • the weeds trampled on by animals,
  • and those nibbled and gnawed by birds and beasts.
  • In the rain, the plants raised their heads high.

  • In addition, he more than once
  • described wild flowers, plain wild flowers
  • and gorgeous wild flowers of all varieties.
  • He picked the prettiest one by hand
  • to take home to be his bride.

  • In his remaining writings, he cursed in the name of conscience.
  • He cursed the dark nights
  • and the men and things as dark as those nights.

  • He offended quite a few people and had a bad reputation because of it.

  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 1

墓志铭

  • 文 / 辛酉

  • 这是一个不倦的歌者。
  • 他在世的时候,手提心脏,歌唱了一辈子。
  • 如今,他睡着了。枕头底下
  • 压着十卷诗歌。

  • 在这些诗歌里,他不厌其烦地
  • 歌颂着石头,倔强的石头
  • 他那粗砺的棱角,抵御过一场大风。
  •   
  • 在这些诗歌里,他总是不停地
  • 写到野草,那些被牲畜践踏过的野草
  • 那些被禽兽啃咬过的野草
  • 在雨中,昂起了头颅。
  •   
  • 除此之外,他还不止一次地
  • 写过野花,朴素的野花
  • 艳丽的野花……各式各样的野花
  • 他将她们中最美的一朵
  • 娶回家去,做新娘子。
  •   
  • 剩下的篇幅里,他诅咒,以良知的名义
  • 诅咒黑夜
  • 诅咒黑夜一样的人,和事物。

  • 他得罪了不少人,没有好名声。

A Night of Nihilism

  • by Yan Hen

  • The temple always responds to summons.
  • Its huge stone steps roll out like a tongue.
  • Prayers come, with fears written on their faces: The rocks we seek,

  • are they really only fleeting clouds, too flimsy to lean on?
  • Prayers come, but they can’t let go of the rain in their hearts,
  • the memories of timid afternoons, and their parents’ names.

  • Tell us,
  • Ancestors, we are here to make our offerings, what do you want?
  • Tell us.
  • But he who looks down from above
  • sees only long slender hooks hanging down from the oil lamps.

  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 3

虚无主义的夜晚

  • 文 / 胭痕

  • 寺庙召之即来。
  • 巨大的石阶,犹如沉默的舌头。
  • 到来者满脸惊惧:我要寻找的石块

  • 难道真是头顶的流云?轻得无一丝依托?
  • 到来者携着内心的庭院
  • 携着庭院里经久不歇的雨,腼腆的黄昏和父母的名字

  • 说吧。
  • 寺庙里供奉的祖先们,你们要什么?
  • 说吧。一个匍匐在星空之上的胸膛,
  • 他看见的是,灯盏里又细又长的倒刺。

Untitled

  • by Yan Meijiu

  • The kungfu of being invisible was lost
  • before the Song Dynasty, a modern scholar claimed,
  • but the truth is that in our beautiful country,
  • many still practice this art superbly.
  • They are different from the old master Luo Gongyuan,
  • who did it to frighten the emperor when chiding him.
  • Neither do they delude themselves like some ancient fool
  • who believed in his mental power to become invisible
  • and asked a tiger for its hide.
  • The modern-day experts live in the monasteries
  • to pray at the alter and sing praises of Nature's serenity.
  • They know every secret path in and out of the mountains,
  • and hold their tongues when necessary.
  • They live invisibly at life's outskirts with perfect temperaments.
  • Year after year, without looking right or left,
  • they no longer see the crushed skull by the road.


  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 4

无题

  • 颜梅玖(玉上烟)

  • 雷平阳说,罗公远的隐身术
  • 到宋朝就失传了
  • 事实证明,在我们美丽的国度
  • 很多人都精通这种法术,但我们不像罗公远
  • 动辄掰着指头数落皇帝,吓坏他
  • 也不像一叶障目那个傻瓜
  • 有人很干脆,不与虎谋皮
  • 但坚持目盲
  • 有人住庙宇,上佛堂,悠悠然吟诵晓风明月
  • 暗通上下山的路径
  • 有人懂得什么时候要管住自己的嘴巴
  • 在生活附近生活的隐形人
  • 几十年也没长出什么坏脾气
  • 不左看,不右看
  • 就是路边那颗被碾碎的头颅,也看都不看

Golden Rice

  • by Yang Kang

  • The wind blows, sending crickets up the rice stalks
  • that are flowering and ripening.
  • In no time, the rice will be golden.
  • Starting with a few stems,
  • next, a few paddies, then, almost infectiously,
  • every stalk in the valley will look shy,
  • bending its head.

  • The rice is golden.
  • The countryside turns boisterous.
  • The hardy men and the domestically-minded women
  • all abandon their pastimes.
  • Even the sparrows that like to hide in the trees become chatty.
  • The old yellow cattle still graze between croplands;
  • children chase and run, tagging along after grownups,
  • in a playful mood until past sundown.

  • But the rice is now golden.
  • The children count on their fingers.
  • When the rice is golden, school will start
  • in just a few days.


  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 4

稻子黄了

  • 文 / 杨康

  • 风一吹,蚂蚱就跳到
  • 正在扬花吐穗的稻子上
  • 紧接着稻子就黄了。先是几株
  • 是一片片黄的稻子,再就是
  • 山沟沟里被感染着的稻子
  • 所有的稻子羞涩起来,低着头
  • 稻子黄了。乡村热闹起来
  • 那些汉子们,和看家
  • 的媳妇们都没得清闲
  • 就连躲在树上的麻雀
  • 也叽叽喳喳。老黄牛们还能
  • 在田间地头啃点青草
  • 娃娃们追着跑着,尾随大人
  • 暮色暗下来,娃娃们还没尽兴呢
  • 可是稻子黄了。娃娃们盘算着
  • 稻子一黄,再过几天就要开学了

The Missing

  • by Yang Xie

  • In this midnight hour, I find you right before me.
  • A most inexplicable shock!
  • Long time no see! We are now complete strangers.

  • When and where did you go missing
  • (Ah, so hard to remember!)
  • all this time before you show up again?

  • You bring to this space an unusual atmosphere.
  • Your demeanor is proud and uncompromising,
  • as if you can’t care less, as if you come from the Wei & Jin Period.

  • My hands are sweating now
  • for I am unable to find a place
  • to properly house you---for which I feel ashamed.

  • But I can’t forgive myself for past mistakes.
  • ---It was only because of a cold spell,
  • I left you buried, gone missing.

  • In this midnight hour, you, being gone for so long,
  • cast a contemptuous look at me; your faint sneer
  • sends a permanent chill down my spine.

  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 1

失踪者

  • 文 / 杨邪

  • 在深夜,目睹你的闪现
  • 蓦然一惊——
  • 久违了的身影,似乎完全陌生

  • 什么时候消失,在哪儿
  • 哦,几乎是无从感知的
  • ——在你赫然显现之前

  • 弥漫着,多么特殊的气息
  • 而姿态是骄傲的,不合作的
  • 大大咧咧——像是来自魏晋

  • 我的手心在出汗,因为怎么也
  • 找不到能够收容你的
  • 一个处所——甚至,我感到羞愧

  • 而我不能饶恕自己犯下的错误
  • ——居然,由于一个寒战
  • 你再次被淹没,消失无踪

  • 在深夜,失踪者——你留下了
  • 一个鄙夷的眼神,若无若有的冷笑
  • 让我久久地,脊背发凉

Lanzhou: The Growing-Up Years

  • by Yang Yang

  • A low-salt diet is good for health, but I remember the days without sugar.
  • Five boys, all sugar-deficient,
  • queued up like an uneven row of sunflower plants,
  • but each pushed up an inch after a rain.
  • We had no sugar to eat, but were still plenty happy.
  • Living by the railroad tracks, the steam train was a toy;
  • up and down and around it we played
  • until the day Little Donkey's dad died by lying on the tracks.
  • The black train puffed away
  • in the same old direction, but my childhood ended there.

  • Let me jot down another memory here.
  • One day I saw a rooster hopping and flapping in panic
  • because his throat was cut;
  • the villain raised his bloody hand
  • to make a print on an abandoned white wall;
  • he wanted to put a personal seal next to a slogan.
  • Years have gone by and now I can't
  • seem to remember what the slogan was
  • or how I felt about it.

  • Those were not sweet days.
  • The iron horse took every piece of metal from the hands of the blacksmiths,
  • and my childhood was erased in just one morning.

  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 12

兰州:生长之城

  • 文 /阳飏

  • 健康生活提倡少盐,那个年代缺糖
  • 五个缺糖的孩子
  • 仿佛一排高高低低的向日葵
  • 一场雨,一个个就往上蹿一截
  • 缺糖,但不缺少快乐
  • 家住铁道边,看喷着蒸汽的黑火车像是大玩具
  • 跑来跑去,更像是不知疲倦的脏孩子
  • 直到有一天,二驴子的爸卧轨自杀了
  • 黑火车依然喷着蒸汽
  • 跑来跑去,我的童年结束了

  • 我想在这儿写下记忆中的一件事
  • 那天,看见一只割开了喉管的大公鸡
  • 扑扇着翅膀蹦达着
  • 杀鸡人在一堵废弃的白墙上按了个血手印
  • 紧挨一条斑驳的旧标语
  • 是五指清晰的血手印
  • 多少年的时间过去了
  • 那条斑驳的旧标语写的什么内容呢
  • 唤起了我什么样的感情呢

  • 缺糖的年代
  • 喷着蒸汽的黑火车用光了铁匠铺的铁
  • 我一个早晨就浪费完了自己的童年


The Wolf

  • by Yang Zi

  • For some time now I’ve kept a wolf inside of me.
  • I can’t count how many sheep and cattle I’ve fed him;
  • one meal less and he would howl for wanting,
  • and bite and tear my flesh.

  • Why do I keep a wolf inside of me
  • that in order to feed it I must toil every day,
  • treating trifles as wise moves,
  • chanting om-mani-padme-hum for consolation?

  • I don’t want this wolf inside of me,
  • but there’s no way I can simply kill it.
  • I let it drink my blood and eat my flesh,
  • knowing he will leave my bones alone.

  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 1

一匹狼

  • 文 / 杨梓

  • 我何时在身体里养了一匹狼
  • 给它喂了多少头牛羊早已无法说清
  • 即使少喂一顿,它就不停地嗥叫
  • 并且撕咬我的身体

  • 我怎么会在身体里养了一匹狼
  • 使我的一生只为它奔波
  • 并把烦恼当成智慧
  • 默诵唵嘛呢叭咪吽

  • 我不要在身体里养着一匹狼
  • 可我杀掉不掉它
  • 只能任它喝我的血、吃我的肉
  • 但它吃不了我的骨头

In Saint Maria's Hospital

  • by Yao Feng

  • From under the white bed sheet
  • you turn to me and extend a hand,
  • slender, withered,
  • red cardamom on your fingernails
  • like plum blossoms brightening up winter twigs.
  • These fingernails, these blossoms,
  • you once and again clip away,
  • once and again allow them to bloom.

  • They are the outermost bits of your body,
  • yet always so clean, so fresh-colored,
  • even in this place
  • with all the chaos of a public hospital,
  • situated in a chaotic country.

  • I take your hand and feel the ripples
  • of blood through brown-colored veins,
  • pulsing back and forth through your red finger tips.
  • Remember, you said this in your book:
  • We live in dying bodies,
  • and fingernails are the last to decompose.

  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 8

在圣玛丽娅医院

  • 文 /姚風

  • 从白色的被单中,你向我伸出一只手
  • 它修长,枯干,涂着蔻丹的指甲
  • 像梅花,把冬天的树枝照耀
  • 这些指甲,这些花,你一次次剪掉
  • 又让它们一次次怒放

  • 它们,位于你生活和身体的边缘
  • 但总是这么洁净,这么鲜艳
  • 哪怕在这所
  • 和国家一样混乱的国家医院

  • 抓住你的手,感到褐色的血管隆起
  • 血液蠕动,从红色的指尖折返
  • 记得你在书中说,在死亡的肉体中
  • 指甲是最后腐烂的物质

The Sheep Come to Town

  • by Ye Zhou

  • In the midnight hour, the sheep come to town
  • through blustery snow,
  • across the city square.

  • In the midnight hour, the sheep come to town
  • in winter coats, woolly side out,
  • like a group of prophets under torchlight.

  • In the midnight hour, the sheep come,
  • crossing the Yellow River
  • into City of Lanzhou from the west.

  • In the midnight hour, the sheep come,
  • straight to the butcher’s knives
  • behind the meat shops.

  • In the midnight hour, the sheep come to town
  • like the holy scripture
  • unrolling.

  • The hidden happiness of childhood
  • is like milk pails
  • buried under the mountain snow.

  • In the midnight hour, the sheep came
  • with brave footsteps,
  • like playful kids, around 18 of them.

  • In the midnight hour, the sheep came
  • and carried the doors and beds away
  • in bamboo baskets.

  • In the midnight hour, the sheep came,
  • turning the city into a ghost town
  • and carrying the torch to their own sacrifice.

  • In the midnight hour, the sheep came
  • with human faces, a squad
  • of rebels crushed in an uprising.

  • In the midnight hour, the sheep came
  • with a chance to redeem
  • their fatherland: parents of an orphan.

  • The beautiful chant
  • has impressed those innocents
  • to leave home, to kneel down and submit.

  • In the midnight hour, the sheep came
  • like a chorus of angels
  • in cheerful spirits.

  • In the midnight hour, the sheep came
  • in the name of DEATH,
  • sitting on the ridge of the world.

  • In the midnight hour, the sheep came
  • in black or in white,
  • the look of love at the dawn of day.

  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 5

入城的羊群

  • 文 / 叶舟

  • 午夜入城的羊群
  • 顶着大风雪
  • 穿过广场。

  • 午夜入城的羊群
  • 反穿皮袄
  • 像一堆灯火中的小先知。

  • 午夜入城的羊群
  • 东渡黄河
  • 来到兰州。

  • 午夜入城的羊群
  • 迎着刀子
  • 走向肉铺。

  • 午夜入城的羊群
  • 像一部圣经
  • 随便摊开。

  • 一阵美妙的童年时光
  • 雪山下着
  • 雪山埋住奶桶。

  • 午夜入城的羊群
  • 脚步踢踏
  • 仿佛十八个儿童。

  • 午夜入城的羊群
  • 提着筐子
  • 拾走门板和床。

  • 午夜入城的羊群
  • 让城市空着
  • 接下牺牲的灯笼。

  • 午夜入城的羊群
  • 是人,是群众
  • 是一伙失败之后的义军。

  • 午夜入城的羊群
  • 是一次拯救
  • 祖国:一个孤儿的双亲。

  • 一阵美妙的念诵
  • 让赤子目击
  • 让赤子走出、跪下、敬受。

  • 午夜入城的羊群
  • 合唱队员们
  • 精神抖擞。

  • 午夜入城的羊群
  • 名叫“死”
  • 骑住人间的屋梁。

  • 午夜入城的羊群
  • 一半黑着,一半白着
  • 像黎明之下的爱情。

Summer Days, 2. The Horror of Eternal Sunshine

  • by Yi Hu

  • Today's sunshine is prettier than yesterday's,
  • but there is something horrifying about it.
  • Yesterday, I lay nude in the sun,
  • pondering how to compose a murder story,
  • but today’s sunlight seems murderous
  • for its own sake.
  • It would be bad
  • if things continue this way
  • without a drop of rain or a wisp of wind
  • to stir my hair.

  • In that case, the romance will be lost,
  • and most definitely
  • I will lose my cool and be unable to write--
  • gone are the heightened suspense
  • and other extraordinary plots,
  • just what a thriller needs.

  • If every single person is like me,
  • feeling too ill-at-ease
  • to pursue what he wants,
  • it only tells the fact that
  • today’s sunshine, really,
  • has gone overboard.



  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 4

夏日两则, 2
天天阳光好其实是一种恐怖

  • 文 / 亦乎

  • 今天的阳光比昨天还好
  • 那其实是一件可怕的事
  • 昨天,阳光好亦乎一丝不挂
  • 想着写关于谋杀的文艺小说
  • 今天,阳光好亦乎就有一种
  • 恐怖感,是真的
  • 如果再这么好下去
  • 没有雨,也没有让人头发
  • 微微飘起的风
  • 那,那“真是不文艺”
  • 亦乎肯定是
  • “不能安下心来”
  • 写花花想看的,特
  • 悬疑的,又是那特什么的
  • 关于谋杀的小说

  • 如果每个人都不能
  • 安下心来
  • 干自己想干的事
  • 那只能说明
  • “今天的阳光”真的
  • 真的是太厉害了

A Painting

  • by Yi Youxi

  • You painted a wooden house, classic black roof tiles,
  • large window panes with a face inside;
  • and what a bewildering face that was.
  • It is as if paper can wrap fire,
  • as if a river can vanish in the distance.
  • You entered the doorway
  • and erased it behind you;
  • now I see the man there but I can't enter.
  • Afterwards, you painted scissors,
  • snip, and snip again,
  • and summer disappeared.
  • Spring and fall followed,
  • now we live in the long grey winter
  • in this brief, transient life.
  • Days come and days go,
  • just like this year’s fallen leaves.
  • We meet, regardless of the distance in-between,
  • tête–à–tête, eye to eye.


  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 7

  • 文 /伊有喜

  • 你画木头房子 古典的黑瓦顶
  • 画上大块大块的玻璃 玻璃外
  • 一张哭笑不得的脸
  • 用纸包住火 水在远处走失
  • 你从这扇门进去 然后把门擦掉
  • 那个人可以看见但进不去
  • 然后你画一把剪刀
  • 咔嚓一下
  • 夏天就没了
  • 然后春天和秋天
  • 现在是灰白漫长的冬天 短暂的一生
  • 纷纷扬扬像这年的落叶
  • 不管多远的人都可以见面
  • 我们头挨着头 眼睛看着眼睛

My Cousin from the West End

  • by Yuan Shiping

  • I called her my temptress cousin,
  • my tall-slender cousin.
  • She quit school right after junior high
  • and always called a tangerine a dangerine;
  • any objection would only meet with
  • her rolling eyes.

  • Since turning sixteen, she was enshrouded
  • in sheer beauty; beauty was her only costume.
  • To the widower Mr. Wang at the garage and his type,
  • all beautiful women were nude; thus,
  • a sea of erotic waves rushed down the west-end streets.

  • It might be hard for someone to see into the mind
  • of a teenage girl at the end of the century
  • when she walked down with a tattoo and a nose ring,
  • But the truth is that a monk's robe cannot tell
  • when the monk meditates into a trance.
  • Ah, to a wild flower, perfume is such a remote thing.

  • My cousin’s story ended abruptly
  • in a suburb of Beijing. She ran into a truck
  • when dodging a soccer ball
  • kicked by some kids playing on the street.
  • She died a virgin.

  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 5

西单表妹

  • 袁诗萍(施施然)

  • 表妹是妖精的表妹
  • 表妹是高挑儿的表妹
  • 表妹是初中毕业
  • 管“橙子”叫“凳子”
  • (你胆敢指出其中的错误
  • 她便拿白眼球瞪你)的表妹

  • 从16岁开始,美,就将表妹
  • 遮蔽,成了她唯一的外衣——
  • 在修车铺王鳏夫的眼中
  • 美女都是裸体的。西城区的胡同
  • 曾荡起一个时代的性欲

  • 人们其实并不了解
  • 二十世纪末
  • 一个纹身、穿鼻环的街头少女
  • 正如袈裟不了解僧侣
  • 何时入定。野花不了解香水

  • 表妹的故事终止于一场意外
  • 在昌平,为了避开马路上踢足球的
  • 儿童,她和一辆卡车迎面相遇
  • 死的时候还是处女




At Night

  • by Zhai Wenxi

  • His nose has fallen into disuse like a gentleman's pipe.
  • But, of course, we see only superficial time,
  • the framework instilled by a pendulum clock.
  • ”No one wants to doze off now unless he is a pea-brain."
  • Just as he reminds himself that, a breeze climbs up the stairs
  • to ride on the springy tree branches.
  • The moon always clings to the spire as if playing an old shtick.
  • A woman sleeps in the room.
  • Chairs gossip among themselves.
  • People guard their thoughts, which they seldom exchange.
  • "Beer froth can drown a soul."
  • but he stays sober.
  • Not too far away, a lonely nightingale tests his voice on the dark mountaintop.
  • He lies on his belly,
  • and slowly moves across the room,
  • floating on the moonlight
  • that has entered the window and flooded the room.


  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 8

夜晚

  • 文 / 翟文熙

  • 他闲置的鼻子成为一个老式绅士
  • 的烟斗。时间是一个假象,
  • 包括吊钟指向的位置,头脑浮现的
  • 以时间为轴的图像。
  • “没有人愿意这个时候入睡,除非他是柚子脑袋。
  • 他这样想着,秋风踩着台阶爬上了
  • 弹簧一样的树枝。
  • 月亮吊诡地挂在塔尖。
  • 女人在房间里睡觉。
  • 椅子与椅子自由地交谈。
  • 无形的思想像物品由主人保管。
  • 他们不轻易交换。
  • “一杯啤酒的泡沫足以将灵魂溺死。”
  • 但是他仍旧清醒。
  • 不远处,孤单的夜莺把漆黑的山顶
  • 当做试音室。
  • 他的身体倒伏在卧榻上,正被
  • 窗外涌进来的月光
  • 慢慢地搬动。

Gazes

  • by Zhang Fanxiu

  • The companion planting of sunflower and millet is very interesting
  • but quite common in the plain of western Liaoning.
  • Oh, not unlike a wood cutter waiting on a small seamstress,
  • he must have been amazed.

  • I can’t really defend that tomfool though;
  • his divine image didn't do him much good.
  • How should he gaze at her?
  • The millet looks tattered and disheveled.
  • Devilish tramps,
  • but they have sneaked into the moors.

  • -----It’s hard to be content with what one has.
  • The devil knows God’s ambition well. They have both lost their edges;
  • divided, neither is much to look at.


  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 6

凝 视

  • 文/ 张凡修

  • 向日葵与黍子套种怪有趣的
  • 这在辽西极常见
  • 哦,劈柴喂马的伺候穿针引线的
  • 肯定有异样的凝视

  • 我终究不能替那个脖子上吊着勺子的家伙辩解
  • 他空有神的面具
  • 该怎样凝视,黍子逶迤,披头散发
  • 这群女鬼
  • 已先一步藏身于丘陵

  • ——吃着碗里的惦记锅里的
  • 女鬼太熟悉神的野心。两人都削去了自己的肩膀
  • 没了依托,则谁也不能,用来凝视

A Pair of Chopsticks

  • by Zhang Shaobao

  • In my childhood, my immaculate mother
  • would set wooden chopsticks, a pair for each,
  • around the table, where hot steams were rising
  • from a coarse meal. That was the simple happiness
  • in a farmer’s home.

  • My sister got married, leaving
  • one fewer pair of chopsticks on the table.

  • Later I took a wife, and
  • chopsticks were added, a pair more.

  • The way chopsticks were set around a table
  • stood for the everyday bliss
  • for a family.

  • Now, Mother has passed on;
  • a pair of chopsticks have been removed.

  • The happiness around the dining table
  • is now something from the past.
  • Nowadays the siblings are like
  • branches of an old tree growing apart.
  • Lonely chopsticks are set
  • a world’s distance apart.

  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 1

一双筷子

  • 文 / 张少保

  • 小时候,干净的母亲
  • 一人一双,木筷子
  • 围坐,热气腾腾的
  • 粗米淡饭,这是一个农家
  • 朴素的幸福

  • 姐姐出嫁了
  • 筷子少了,一双

  • 我,娶妻了
  • 筷子,又多了,一双

  • 筷子的围坐
  • 是一个,家族简单的
  • 快乐与满足

  • 而今,母亲已经故去
  • 筷子,少了一双

  • 围坐一起的幸福
  • 成为,过去
  • 姊妹们,如同
  • 树大分枝
  • 筷子们,索然寡味的,
  • 天各一方

Remodeling

  • by Zhang Zhanyuan

  • Let me extract colors from the four seasons,
  • starting with the first day of spring until winter solstice:
  • green from spring wheat, red from wolfberries,
  • yellow from golden rice, and purple from sweet eggplants.

  • I am now too old to climb a three-foot wall,
  • and age spots snuck up at night to embarrass me,
  • but today I shall remodel
  • and adorn myself with a rainbow.

  • My heart opens up to let in a touch of green,
  • which will soon turn into a spring field
  • for galloping horses, flowers and butterflies;
  • A herd of clouds jostle in the blue blustery sky.

  • Then I will add red to my blood,
  • so it will turn passionately into fiery azaleas
  • that roll like a banner across the hills,
  • where crickets sing under a radiant sky.

  • I will have a handsome plaid shirt made
  • of yellow, purple, and white —-
  • yellow for rapeseed flowers,
  • purple for grape juice from Turan,
  • and white for virgin snow.
  • The collar will be bamboo green
  • and the flowing sleeves rosy clouds.

  • Wind, rain, thunder and lightning,
  • the storm has recharged me,
  • thus I dance like a crane in the clouds
  • and fly between mountains dripping with dew.
  • Who’s hinting at sixty bygone years?
  • Oh, no, fairer to say
  • a tree of thirty rings!

  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 2

装修

  • 文 / 张占元

  • 榨汁,用四季,
  • 从立春到大寒,
  • 淬取麦苗的绿,杞果的红,
  • 稻菽的黄,还有甜茄的紫。

  • 我老了,不能越过三尺矮墙,
  • 半夜里偷袭成功的老年斑让人蒙羞,
  • 我要重新装修自己,
  • 就用这自然的七彩,

  • 一抹碧绿铺进心底,
  • 摊开一片年轻的草原,
  • 蓝天下风牧白云,
  • 骏马驰骋,蹄花引蝶。

  • 把红色注入血液,
  • 连同蝈蝈的重唱,
  • 映山红开成旗帜,
  • 霞裹春山。

  • 用黄和紫,用白,
  • 缝一件漂亮的格子衫,
  • 一格罗平菜花,
  • 两格吐鲁番葡萄,
  • 三格长白素雪,
  • 领饰川南竹韵,
  • 袖缀五岳丹霞。

  • 我身上,
  • 充盈了四季的风雨雷电,
  • 鹤舞云溪,千峰滴翠,
  • 六十岁吗?
  • 我只有三十个年轮!

Visiting the Plum Tree on a Snowy Night

  • by Zhang Zuogeng

  • The maiden I intend to visit
  • stays behind the doors of her boudoir.
  • Wintersweet is her name.
  • She used the first snow to nourish her body and soul,
  • let the second snow raise her tender love,
  • and when the third snowfall arrived,
  • she burst gracefully into bloom.

  • It's as if the snowy night was her premeditated design—
  • a white conspiracy to blot out the sky
  • and cover up the earth.
  • The snowy night was needed for her narrative.
  • Amid the sustained snow, she gave the tree a noble touch
  • and decorated it with her pure affection.

  • O, obscure mystery! O, shimmering flames,
  • how you penetrated the enigmatic snowy night.
  • I seem to have come as the belated fourth snowfall.
  • I float down from the sky with the sole purpose
  • of visiting the plum tree.

  • from 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 1

雪夜访梅

  • 文 / 张作梗

  • 我所要探访的女子深藏闺中
  • 她叫梅
  • 她靠第一场雪滋补身子
  • 靠第二场雪喂养爱情
  • 第三场雪
  • 她妩媚地开了

  • 雪夜仿佛是她蓄谋已久的
  • 阴谋。白色的阴谋
  • 铺天盖地的阴谋
  • 她通过雪夜叙说自己
  • 通过雪夜,把一缕高洁的
  • 情感,缀上枝头

  • 哦,幽暗的谜底,幽暗的火
  • 当你把谜一样的雪夜说破
  • 我仿佛成了迟到的第四场雪
  • 雪夜访梅,是我从天而降的
  • 惟一缘由