21st Century Chinese Poetry

In the low ground, even lower, I see a petite flower.
Its head reaches out from dense grass, nudging up for sunlight,
and its golden tendrils dazzle under the sky.
It bends menially in the wind, like a pilgrim offering a prayer.
It has a dream unknown to all, hidden under tall grass,
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 and moisten my inner emptiness and loneliness.
Afar, a prayer sways his praying wheel in the snow,
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 as lovely as the mutual dependence of two hearts.
Translated by Meifu Wang & Huang Hongqi

塔尔寺之花

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。

Tea

by Jing Qiufeng

Through lovely scenery come and go,
in the drizzle of fog and mist,
trailing the sound of beautiful 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.
Translated by Meifu Wang & Michael Soper

茶

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 governing manifesto
or even the outline of guiding principles.
The drunken Wumeng
is our dear sweet bro.
He invites us to his dream, in a world without dreams.
Together we are happy to call a stag a horse.
Translated by Meifu Wang & Michael Soper

大滇

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 Things

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,
which in turn required doves, a cool breeze, reveries,
and a backdrop of dusk on the way to the post office.
A place to say farewell is essential when the time comes to leave home;
a ticket in my hand, the beloved someone at the windy train station,
tears in our eyes, and the warmth
down my spine as I gently turn around.
Reaching midlife, children nearby and healthy parents are essential,
so are the lovely words on the pages I turn,
and the fragrance of the fruits he brings to the room.
Finally, the peach flowers that bloom overnight —
if you catch the a sweet scent from the apparitions under the trees,
please know they were my kinsmen who left this world too early.
Translated by Meifu Wang & Michael Soper

重要的事情

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 marine fish
probably swim up the avenues, up the trees.
I catch in the air the exhalations of shellfish
and see the silver streaks of scabbard fish.
Their feelers touch the leaves
for them to 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, these fish breathe through leafy lungs,
nestling up to the trees carefully,
to feel the gentle pulse and ripples in the air.
I am thrilled to discover this secret:
with regard to the word “graceful”,
the ocean gives us the most charming illustration.
They are also encoded
in the pure glow in women’s eyes.
Translated by Meifu Wang & Michael Soper

静静的街树

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 blackish greenish wind,
a seductive wind . . . for one’s lost days,
but soon the telephone wire, computer wire, and so on and so forth,
all come to intrude in continuous coils; he feels his heart bound by wires.
Annoying wires, without end, trap him
in the bedroom, the parlor, the kitchen, every inch
an interrogation, but where is the arbitrator?
In China, the laws apply only to the feeble.
Seductive wind, tell him, life only comes once.
Thinking about the old Song Dynasty, when men got killed casually and knights wandered everywhere.
The telephone rings, stirring up a greenish blackish wind.
Here comes Spring Girl, the seductive wind, but he only feels the land's scorching heat.
Translated by Meifu Wang & Michael Soper

春女风

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。

UNSIGHTLY SCENES

by Li Shangyu

The ancient poet Li Yishan commented on unsightly scenes,
and listed thirteen; here let me quote a few:
yowling howling through the garden to clear way for nabobs;
hanging wet trousers on a rose trellis;
raising chickens and ducks under an arbor of flowers.
He was definitely a fan of flowers, couldn’t stop talking about them...
But on this cool spring night, inspired by the moon and the winds from afar,
who knows why I am thinking of lard, grime, and the old times.
Those days,
weren’t there always chickens, ducks, geese, and pigs under the flower trellis,
and, as one would expect, the lonely and unexplained outbursts of
drinking, crying, and women complaining?
Translated by Meifu Wang & Michael Soper

煞风景

李商雨

李义山云煞风景，共十三事,
今援引几例：
花间喝道，花下晒褌，花架下养鸡鸭……
他真是对花痴迷，不停歇……
而这可是风月浩荡春夜呀
我却想起猪油、污垢、旧时光
那时，
花架下不正有鸡、鸭、鹅、猪？
世上总有清冷、神秘的喧闹：
喝酒的声音，啼哭，女人抱怨。

SUMMER DAYS

by Li Shangyu

Trees make up the sceneries, those dainty nerves of the world.
Time passes, men depart, and birds fly into the mist.
Alone in the city, up early, I eat only pickles and porridge,
in awe of the lush green, the season's quiet composure.
Last night I recalled Essays in Idleness by Urabe Kenko,
which by itself called for getting drunk —
Do you know? A new day has arrived,
morning and afternoon, the omnipresence of mist and grayness.
When the wind loves the trees, it moves it like deep ocean.
When the wind loves a man, oh, he walks out in style!
Well? Look! See! The hanging bridge arches over men, small like ants,
as white rain falls helplessly into the river flowing east.
This is summer, once young, now worn, perfect for a walk,
and I’ll never again sing songs of righteous ardor
because I am weary, am done with a certain way of life. Shouldn't I be?
Drunk in youth, showy in prime, deep in old age.

Translated by Meifu Wang & Michael Soper

夏日

李商雨

树木即风景，人世清朗的神经
一别悠悠，飞鸟空濛
城里寂寞，早上只吃咸菜稀饭
我惊愕于你浓绿的不动声色
昨夜又想到“徒然草”，这成了
忍不住饮酒的借口——
你是否知道？当新的一天来临
这儿，那儿，上午茫茫，下午冥冥
当树爱上风，墨风；当风
爱上了人，那风里来的人——
啊，看见了吗？长桥铁索，人如蝼蚁
当白色的雨徒然地射入东流水
这是青春过后的夏日，我学会了
漫步，不再歌颂热血，这表明我已厌倦
一种生命形式。不是吗？
青年昏昏，中年朗朗，暮年幽幽。

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,
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 tumultuous human emotions,
and the truncated lines of modern poetry.
Translated by Meifu Wang & Michael Soper

发现, 选自劳动者札记

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 handles Big Snow this season,
but it shrinks, and turns into Lesser Snow,
so little snow that it's now merely a decoration.
All of the accumulated snow, if piled up,
would not exceed what’s on the treetop.
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 magnificent north keep coming back,
and I long to return — when the severe winter is over —
to join the horses racing across the fields.
Outside my windows, the crevices between the branchlets
hold a bundle of warmth and moisture,
blurry and clean.
Translated by Meifu Wang & Michael Soper

吝啬的冬天

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?
But later on, a footpath came into the woods
with a log cabin on the way
and an outpost nearby, but no buses will come.
It is for sitting, for listening to the wind
and the soft whisper of every tree.
Translated by Meifu Wang

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 ink
like a tearful eye,
trying to refrain from uttering a sound.
Translated by Meifu Wang & Huang Hongqi

致命虚构

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……

Married Life

by Li Zhiyong

When we walk together, our trousers cling to the legs because of the wind.
When we do laundry together, I talk about my childhood —
up in the mountains I saw a pair of sparrows, Crow's Pillow*, and some nameless fruit tree.
When we embrace, we do not wish to be seen,
nor expect a giant bird to come and lift any of our burdens off.
If the bird indeed flew by, it wouldn't care to carry us away,
but would rather go to some other people.
If it indeed flew by, we wouldn't notice it anyway.
When we enter autumn together, feeling the cold,
we wish to have another two people with us,
so the husband also has a husband, and the wife has a wife
to do the housework together.
When we make a meal together, I ask:
how about rice tonight? She says, okay.
I say: what else is there to worry about? Nothing to worry, 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.

Translator's note: Crow's Pillow, local name for Caesalpinia mina, a shrub that produces inflated seedpods with spinescent bristles; the plant's seeds are used in traditional Chinese medicine to treat colds, fever and dysentery.
Translated by Meifu Wang & Michael Soper

夫妻生活

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 in the tree
grow and spread,
but no one see the perpetrator who casts the stone
to make the waves...
Under the tree, we hear cicadas’ incessant chirp;
a dog wanders by and lifts his hind leg;
lovers embrace, parting four lips;
but the thunderclap hasn’t broken the trunk,
although a rumbling is heard...
What a tender heart it has,
as if made by a heavenly touch —
Let's lay a needle on the groove —
to feel, and hear
Time’s recording.
Translated by Meifu Wang

年轮

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

Ticket Inspection

by Li Zhuang

Beethoven's music is flogging us again.
Let's have a strong drink to replenish our tears.
We also need love to shake us up.
Some of our friends have boarded a fire chariot
and left on a wandering journey,
but we still hold on to the tickets they left.
No one expects the departed to return
to give a cheerful account of the sceneries out there.
These are open tickets, so let's not expect
a ticket inspection!
Translated by Meifu Wang

检票

李庄

贝多芬又一次抽打了我们
我们需要烈酒补充泪水
需要爱抚战栗
去者已登上火焰之车
开始了无目的的漫游
而车票遗忘在我们手里
没有人会等到去者归来
听他兴高采烈地说着景物
那车票上没有日期也不需要
检票！

Waiting for a Snowflake

by Liu Chengyu

Since the beginning of winter, I have been waiting for a snowflake to fall.
As soon as autumn departed, I changed my vocabulary to one suitable for winter scenes.
I made the distant mountains look ethereal and thinned out the streams in my painting.
I also put on a coat ahead of time
to signal the frosty air and the piercing wind.
Anticipating the first snowflake, I observed the change in a single leaf
— fishtail wrinkles on its tip before yellowing —
and I began to imagine snowflakes sailing down from the sky
like a northern belle, in a white gown with flowing sleeves.
I dreamed that she would stay in my arms long past winter
and leave her footsteps in the sun-drenched valley.
Earlier tonight I painted a plum tree teeming with blossoms.
The snowflakes that I yearn for will know these delicate flowers
are lanterns I light up for her.
Translated by Meifu Wang

等一朵雪花落下来

刘成渝

整整一个冬天，我都在等一朵雪花
落下来。秋天刚过，我就用冬天的词汇
一笔一笔地描绘我的院落。我把阳光描成淡淡的远山
像水墨的远景，渐渐隐入或消失，把溪水描成细瘦的银线
我提前穿上棉衣，把秋天里刚长出的
一丝凉意，放大，加入刺骨的寒风。
等一朵雪花落下来，是从一片叶子开始的
那时叶子的眼角刚刚牵出一丝鱼纹，还没来得及变黄
我就想到了雪花，我的脑子迅速被
雪白的水袖和长长的飘带占领，我想象雪花
像一位北方的佳人从一首诗里飘然而出。在盛产阳光的山谷
我渴望有一朵雪花，在我温暖的怀里
留下冬天的印迹。
今夜，我开始为这个冬天描上一树精彩的梅
我等待的雪花，一定知道，那些小小的花朵
是我为她点亮的灯笼。

Ode to the Orchid

Liu Congmei

Youlan, hidden orchid,
concealed in the woods on a tall hill,
ordinary people don’t see her still.
Youlan, secluded orchid,
she doesn't need to overdress,
surpassing the loveliest 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 my heartstrings.
Translated by Meifu Wang & Michael Soper

戏幽兰

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 useless is a whisper compared to rumors that spread like wildfire.
Looking through wispy clouds, through a thin veil,
we see the truth of the matter, but will still wait for the southern wind
to blow, to trigger off a green shoot, 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 pretty things look even prettier, and the pure look even purer.
As if using a magic brush, the last snow signed off.
Beneath it, 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 the hilltops, wearing hats with white sashes,
a wave and a wave, what an incredible sight.
Legends live on through hearsay, in cheerful metaphors.
Snowflakes add wings to spring, sending it to paint the earth with flying colors,
a light touch here, a wild stroke there, and big splashes that astonish the mortals.
Throughout time, masters come from down-home places;
they are the heroes that give new names to new landscapes.
Translated by Meifu Wang

春雪：被代指的江山

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;
therefore, I shall rename this old prosperity RUIN.
A two-wheeled black chariot drives by,
but no one cares if a real doctor or a witch doctor is in it;
therefore, I shall rename the silent crow on the riven post RECLUSE.
The foxtail blocks out the sunset and the temple
that no longer answers prayers;
therefore, I shall rename the three-legged stone lion SELF.
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 shall 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 shall rename this lifeless ruin PROSPERITY.
Those who write about money and palaces can do the same for haystacks.
From the top of a haystack, you see hometown, but the crow sees decay;
therefore I shall rename the golden evening breeze SORROW.
As to the crow that is now stretching its wings and breaking silence,
I shall rename it HOPE.
Translated by Meifu Wang & Michael Soper

废墟

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

In every direction, all that I see is a weathered world,
but there are something else,
something invisible, captivating and calming.
I have enjoyed them ten thousand times
as death fades into irrelevance.
Satin luxury
showcases the world's exterior beauty,
but a spirit moves through its earthly veins,
connected by a small forest of
skeletal trees.
I sing praises of the wind's passage,
the earth's verdant virtue,
the waning allure of eternal love,
and the tall tales
from our boisterous world.
Translated by Meifu Wang & Michael Soper

山水赋

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 sheep's quiet departure,
a gale pushed through the mountain gap.
Before the wind, I saw only the sheep and their noble ragged clothing,
but the wind gives me a peek into death,
the lowly death and the senselessness of it.
As always, I revere all things beautiful, and
have not shifted my gaze from the mountain gap,
where the sheep are gone without a trace.
Somehow I know when they return again, through the mountain gap,
the wind will be tattered, the shadow of its old self.
Translated by Meifu Wang

山口

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 drink four cups of tea
and doze off three times.
The tea is called Spring Blossom green tea,
and tasted 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 romantic rustic afternoons
reminiscent of blue roof and silk windows.
They are not mountain-spring, fine-china afternoons.
I join my colleagues for a cup of strong tea.
We drink alone, in the meeting room,
and become a flock of wooden chickens.
Translated by Meifu Wang & Michael Soper

星期三的下午茶

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 wonder about 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 see them turn into water chrysanthemums.
Everybody seems to be chatting, singing or perhaps reading poetry, but I can’t 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 for the sea breeze to pass through.
Suddenly I remember the deserts I crossed, the mountains I climbed,
and feel an urge to be embraced by the sea,
to be embraced the way I was embraced by my mother.
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 marches out to the depths of the sea,
for them I map out a constellation chart to aid their return.
Just then, I see a field of narcissus rise up in the sea, languid, with a metallic shine.
Translated by Meifu Wang and Michael Soper

与世界的距离

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 restless.
She knows my eyes on such days
will have a deeper shade.
In November, the sky is almost empty with few birds.
I know on such days, eyes gains a little more depth,
not just mine but everyone’s...
”Let me have a look at you?” She holds my face up.
”Ah…”
It’s as if a big bird, beating its wings, dives into
the deep pool of my eyes…
“Is it a bird?”
I can’t really tell,
but feel that it reaches very deep...
She looks at me so quietly. She must be able to see that
I become a little more shriveled every year......
Translated by Meifu Wang

十一月

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……

My Good Will

by Meng Ye

Handle me any way you like. I am the tamest mule.
Feel free to stroke me, play with me, or lead me
wherever you like.
If you wish, I could even carry your bundles,
but please don’t put on too heavy a load.
I can no longer glide and gallop the way I did.
Children like to have me around, going for a ride
as roar and laugh: Gi-Di-Up!
All of this is fine with me.
Children know many tricks, taking me for something soft and sweet,
perhaps soft enough to cut up like a cake.
Sometimes they climb on me like a tree,
hoisting themselves up the trunk to pick fruit.
They do as they please, I don’t mind.
No, it doesn’t cause me pain;
in fact, I am pleased they are the way they are.
My comfort comes from the fact that a part of me
is being cut and picked away.
To tell you the truth: it’s not that I can’t feel pain,
but because, because of my good will,
my heart is transformed into a sea,
where pain is purified...
Translated by Meifu Wang

善意

梦也

随你怎么看我。我像一头温顺的驴子，
你可以摸我，嬉弄我，或牵着我到你
愿去的地方。
要是你愿意，我还可以驮上
你需要的东西，只是不能太多。
我已经不像年轻那会儿轻快地迈动蹄角。
孩子们认为我好玩，总要骑骑我，
并且大喊：驾！……他们笑了。
随他们便。
孩子们的花样总是很多，他们认为我又软又甜，
可以像蛋糕那样切下来。
有时，他们还把我当作一棵树，
完全放心地沿着树干爬上去，随便地采摘果实。
……随他们便。
不要以为，这样一来，我会痛苦，
其实，我乐于他们这样。
我的幸福正是从类似于
切和摘的方式中获得的。
告诉你们，我不是真的不痛苦，
而是因为，善意把我的心变成了一个大海。
它使痛苦变得纯粹……

An Afternoon in Yunnan

by Na Ye

An afternoon in Yunnan,
no mentioning 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 the atheists who became superstitious at old age,
and how shadows could be prettier than the objects.
In a way, being childless kept us whole.
Translated by Meifu Wang and Michael Soper

云南的黄昏

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 (An excerpt from Love and Songs)

by Nie Le

My oxen are gone.
Dear daughter, let me tell you,
our herd has disappeared.
Certainly you will ask me
where they are now.
I don’t know the answer, my daughter.
I also ask myself: where are they?
Just like you asked me, I have also asked your grandpa.
Grandpa said that after our tribe dispersed,
the cattle simply wandered off.
In fact, everyone would like to know
where they have gone, but no one knows.
In our colorful auspicious dreams,
they oftentimes reappear,
a herd of oxen on the great land
like a mud slide,
moving and shifting, ho!
We live in a strange world,
very modern and very strange times.
Our lives and our customs
are really not that different from others’
except we get insolubly confused more often.
In our village, in the middle of the city,
we easily feel lost.
In long dark nights,
we think of our distant native home,
reminiscing an ancient tribe, sometimes by a fire pit,
sometimes far away in the sun,
empowered and fearless,
living naked and dying naked.
Our oxen are lost,
but in fact it is not that important
where they are gone.

Translated by Meifu Wang & Michael Soper

我的牛群丢失了（选自组诗：爱与歌）

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 when 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 encircled his arm around an old pal.
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 that 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 but returning together timidly at dusk.
The other day, I stepped outside of the house
and saw the donkey, chin on the fence.
She beckoned at me with a trembling voice, so bleak and so sad;
Father said he knew what she meant to say.
Translated by Meifu Wang

毛驴老了

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

Shadows

by Peng Shibin

A cloud drifts across my mind,
casting a shadow, in the shape of a homeless cat,
then a flower, then a dream.
Shadows are not made of darkness,
but adhere to and mirror their bright source.
Melancholy is the shadow of longings.
The road to the hot spring is long,
but I hear songs and birds, sweet fancies,
and the fireflies that light the way.
Those drooping vines in the wind,
the destitute vagrant cats and dogs,
and fallen leaves, do they still cross our minds?
The dark cloud in the sky transforms
into the shadow of a lamb, raindrops, then a flower,
drifting with the silent wind...
Translated by Meifu Wang & Michael Soper

阴影

彭世彬

阴影心空一朵飘动的云
一会飘向流浪猫一会飘向花
一会飘向梦
阴影不是阴暗阴影连着光明
阴影相似折射本真的面目
忧郁因牵挂而生
那温泉可望而不可及
歌声与飞鸟甜美与梦想
莹火虫闪亮一路前行
想着那些无依无靠的枯藤
流浪的狗和猫
落叶飘零少有人过问
天空那朵乌云
现出羊羔雨水和花的影子
风沉默无语

Mu Xi’s Six Persimmons

by Ren Lin

The magic of ink wash —
solid color here,
fainter there, and almost clear in other places —
sumptuous flesh wrapped in a 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 need colors.
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 lonesomeness.
Even more intriguing is:
the stems of the fruit were painted with firm strokes.
At the forefront or in the back,
the dry stems, given the color of burnt ink,
look all the more touching.
*Mu Xi (Muqi Fachang) was a Buddhist monk and painter in Southern Song Dynasty (1127-1279). His painting Six Persimmons is housed in Daitoku-Ji temple in Kyoto, Japan.
Translated by Meifu Wang & Michael Soper

牧谿的《六个柿子》*

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 Field of Poetry

by Ren Xianqing

I'm 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 eager for a grand celebration, I am the very first
to hear my own thumping heart.
With the classics open in mind, thoughts of love growing, and bones unbound,
the train speeds up towards us, laden with flowers, vibrant and profuse.
Thereupon, who cares if I am driven to join the Liangshan rebels by a pile of words?
I don’t mind growing melons but reap beans;
I don’t mind being misread by you or the savage times.
Translated by Meifu Wang & Huang Hongqi

等待诗里的火车

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

THE SAME OLD STORY

by Rong Rong

A man and a woman —
it's a little like a traffic accident
between an old car and an even older car.
The decade-old streets were rerouted,
so they met at the new freeway exchange one day.
During a traffic jam, they collided
— he and she —
like two vehicles.
The first casualty was the broken promises,
but lies would live another day, with growing disappointments.
The sky looked shattered through the windshield,
and repairing the damage would devour half of the spring.
In the dark, hideous details and pangs of desire
resurfaced again and again.
How in the world would they know how to navigate the maze of traffic rules?
The injury was deep because the commitment was deep,
but once again it proved the culprit
was the lack of strong will.
After one deadly hemorrhage: from the nerve ends to the brain,
even the skin contracted anxiety disorder.
Speed limits, red lights, one-way streets, traffic tickets —
a love affair became a nightmarish maneuver —
no ambulance but time can come to their rescue.
They are now two survivors.
Can he realign?
Can she forget the nagging doubt about the car’s reliability?
She has become the most careful driver,
worried about wrecking her second-hand car.
Translated by Meifu Wang

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

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 courtyard are now blooming, white inside, a touch of pink,
a world of sweet scents and serenity.
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 for spring's splendor.
War, peace,
peace, war,
they have made me a different person.
Tai'er Village, as these blossoms
dance around you.
I must not forget the old sorrow,
congealed inside here,
congealed in old memories.
Oh, Tai'erzhuang, I am not a flower witch,
but a woman warrior, born here, now bleeding for you.
I hear a prayer chant in the revolving light,
om-mani-pad-me-hum.
At last an otherworldly monk will come and take me away.
Translated by Meifu Wang and Michael Soper

春到台儿庄

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

Aboard the Ship

by Sha Ma

Now we are on board, let's not
bring up any depressing topics;
no more debates about the pet peeves
in those capitalist countries.
Gluing our asses to this metal ship deck,
doesn't it feel a little numb?
We have got to learn to be
that girl by the window,
eating dry roasted beans
and looking out to the sea...
Translated by Meifu Wang

上了船

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!
Translated by Meifu Wang & Michael Soper

雪的预告总是不准的

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

Love You a Pound

by Song Huiyuan

Four tenths cooked rice, three tenths vegetables,
two tenths beans, one tenth meat
is my unvarying life.
Domestic life, fully itemized.
I love you too, up to a pound.
One tenth kindness and scorn,
two tenths getting together and breaking up,
three tenths not giving up, still leaves four tenths.
I am writing you a lyric poem.
Nothing compares to these four tenths,
I use these four tenths to woo my fair lady.
Translated by Michael Soper & Meifu Wang

爱你正好有一斤

宋惠元（柳思）

四两米饭三两蔬菜
二两豆子一两肉
是我不能离开的生活
家常日子满打满算
我爱你也正好有一斤
一两恩怨二两聚散
三两不舍还有四两
我为你写抒情诗
没有比这四两更管用了
我用四两拨了一千金

In the Same Dream as the Plum Flower

by Song Huiyuan

Once I saw you in red;
that was when you were getting married.
The wind came and dressed you up with snowflakes.
You looked absolutely radiant.
Then I saw you in pink,
and thought perhaps you had fallen ill.
Enduring spring's frigid winds,
you looked terribly frail.
Ah, plum flower, we had better not marry but to the finest.
But some time ago,
your rosy cheeks began to turn pale
until finally looking gossamer and green,
like a floral spirit awaiting burial,
tattered like shadows under the moon.
— This is me
in the same dream as the plum flower,
and I asked her:
“With so many choices, why did you marry the spring zephyr?”
Translated by Meifu Wang & Michael Soper

我和梅花的一场梦

宋惠元（柳思）

见你红的时候
正是你新嫁的时候
风吹雪花做你的衣裳
裹得你越加红了
见你粉的时候
可是你病了?
春寒风瘦里
你单薄得已经不成样子
梅啊，嫁得不好我们不嫁了
当初
看你一点点失色
后来果然气韵白而又青
像待葬的花魂
月影一样弄碎了
——这是我
和梅花的一场梦
梦里我对梅说
嫁与谁不好，何必嫁春风

Ow, Mama!

by Song Yu

Ow, Mama!
I really don’t like it that you comb my hair so much.
I can’t sit still. Outside, the grasses are all sprouting, Mama,
but you still want to give me a red hair tie and a green hair tie,
calling me a little spoiled brat,
and braiding my hair into twisted doughs.
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 from the dead.
Ow, Mama!
The peach-wood comb is growing peach flowers —
I am destined to offend with my roaming heart.
You cannot cure
your little spoiled brat.

Translated by Meifu Wang & Michael Soper

哎哟，妈妈

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

FLOATING SNOW

by Wa Dao

The temperature drops again,
and the cloud ceiling lowers a notch,
revealing its pale undertone.
Clusters of shady clouds,
like floating dark islands,
giving their flesh and blood to resuscitate the cold sky.
Slowly the raggedy wind begin to churn,
gathering force to make a powerful storm.
Ice crystals will now coalesce,
and floating snow that has nothing to cling to
will fall through the vast abyss
like rainy-day fund squandered,
like a flock of sheep fleeing the wolves.
A few places remain latent
as the sun stays in its sheath.
Translated by Meifu Wang

无根之雪

瓦刀

一次降温之后
天空的底线又降了一米
呈现苍白的底色
一簇簇疑云
天空的岛屿
用血肉之躯供养寒冷和欲望
细碎的风蠢蠢而动
拧成一股强劲的寒流
在云的腹部滴水成冰
无根之雪渐渐失去
辽阔的信仰和方寸余地
失去退出余地的盘缠
像撞上狼群的羊，蒙耻遁逃
那时，一些景象还在沉睡
阳光隐于剑鞘

Total Eclipse of the Moon

by Wa Dao

Look at the hole I dug, just right for burying the moon
so the sky would be calmer, darker, and deeper,
made for an elope, or, even better, an escape.
A boat is hidden in the swaying reeds,
on board is a small sum of money
that I prepared for you.
Wait for a bird call or a rustle in the wind,
that will be the cue
to launch the boat into the rocking waves.
But don’t take too long to return, say, in two years.
when plants and lives bestir themselves in the spring.
You shall sail back on a big ship.
At the riverbank, by the dock, next to the stream of people,
perchance we will meet again
like two crickets missing their old rivalry,
probing with their antennas before re-engaging in three hundred rounds of wrestling,
that is to say if we don’t just walk on by
with a nod, only to say goodbye.
Translated by Meifu Wang & Michael Soper

月全食

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

Sometimes

by Wa Dao

Sometimes, I open my eyes
and see myself packaged like a suitcase:
skull, body, arms and legs,
bound by a tight rope,
in one sturdy piece.
I even glimpse the sealing tape on my mouth
in vivid characters:
Net Weight: 90 Kg.
Fragile, Handle With Care, This Side Up.
Destination: unknown.
Recipient: unknown.
Purpose: unknown.
Translated by Meifu Wang

有时候

瓦刀

有时候，我一睁眼
就看见自己像一件等待寄出的行李
头颅、躯体和四肢
捆扎在一起
结结实实
我还看见我的嘴上贴着封条
上面赫然写着：
毛重90公斤
小心轻摔，切勿倒置
目的地不详
收件人不详
用途不祥

Fantasy of the Lowest Kind

by Wang Jiming

It happened only once, before I was 50, and shall never happen again.
Then I indulged in an unspeakable pleasure for two years,
pure carnal pleasure, sensual pleasure —
not only in luxury hotels, but also in cheap hourly rooms or in some dark corners.
It happened not only at night, even more often in springtime mornings.
Whenever I felt my body was tormented by desires,
I would squander away what treasures people eager to save
just to indulge my flesh for one moment —
making sure the shades of the curtains, the bed sheets,
the brightness of the lamps and the ambiance were all agreeable —
I indulged in living, and couldn’t care less about what life was for.
Of course what I did was condemnable by the codes of conduct of my countrymen.
Even though it all started with love, but our love had no future.
Still, I let my body and soul enter another's, my lips pressed on another's, soon
all was obliterated and nothing else mattered anymore,
including writing and reading afterwards,
until one day I became bored with it. So, not long ago,
I curbed the devilish impertinence of my libido
and found another way to channel my desires.
Otherwise, who knows what would have become of me,
probably destroyed, totally destroyed!
2.
If only I were sufficiently restless, talented, and idle
to publicize our secret pleasure of those years
— in poetry or in another art form.
Recently I felt a new round of desires springing up.
Yesterday I passed by the pleasure house
where we made love again and again, and all day I reminesed about our past
and couldn't think clearly or accomplish anything.
So when the night quieted down, I drew your beautiful nude body from memory on a big sheet of paper,
and stared at it with my sleepy eyes till dawn.
My head was wrapped in the warmth of our entangled bodies,
the apple scent of your hair, your silky skin and almost perfect crevasses,
your magical hands, lips and tongue, my desperate climax and blissful despair,
— the pleasure of our love was like a daze, so extraordinary
that we couldn’t help returning to it again and again.
We even wrote it into our will —--
It is time for me to open the hidden chest while we are still in this world.
Let me try to tell it in broad daylight.
Evoking the power of my desires and the ability for graphic fantasies,
I want to represent our bodies with their once-youthful strength and beauty,
but how I worry that, because I am too ham-handed at the art of poetry,
our love affair would be reduced to something
beneath the dignity of our souls.
Translated by Meifu Wang

最低虚构笔记

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 sea,
it will take a morning and an afternoon on foot,
but there is always a charming fragrance along the way,
and when I close my eyes, I hear footsteps and wingbeats
in groups of threes and fives, lively and light,
a chorus, like music on wings
that lifts me out of despair.
I would listen to it in the morning.
I would listen to it in the afternoon.
Written and Translated by Meifu Wang

土路

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。

Water Droplets

by Meifu Wang

Water droplets
leap off the fall,
crashing onto the cliff wall,
bellyflopping
down a blue hollow.
Water droplets, fair angels,
you carry me off
into a dream amongst the azaleas
receiving mists
at the bottom of the gorge.
Written and Translated by Meifu Wang

水珠

王美富

水珠
跳离瀑布
冲向山岩
穿过我身体的深渊
像天使长了翅膀
在头顶上空飞翔
我的心如梦初醒
见杜鹃如璟
在河谷
接住水珠

SEA CRAGS

by Meifu Wang

I go, far away from home,
with scattered thoughts trailing
(ah, my winsome sidekick).
Roving till dusk, I need not raise my head
to see heaven’s curtain close.
Suddenly he arrives,
more abruptly than the night,
soaring from the deep blue sea,
using huge talons to stay the earth.
He lives in the sea, the wild roaring sea.
He hangs tight as the Earth spins,
and turns his face to the rain and the wind.
Consider how quietly my thoughts come and go,
my days, likewise, waft to and fro.
The sky sleeps in the bosom of the sea,
and I hear his drunken snore,
dark, now, and deep,
gentle, then, and soft,
asking me:
must you live thinking life is brief?
Written and Translated by Meifu Wang

海岩

王美富

我寄居于旅途，
散漫的臆想像小书僮悄悄跟上。
无须抬头，已见低垂的天幕。
他，来得比夜更突兀；
他，屹立于深海之中；
他，用巨爪扣住地球。
在冰冷的海里，在墨绿的海里，
他肩骨嶙峋，背负坎坷的命运，
与地球一起旋转；是他在挡驾风雨。
臆想悄悄地来，悄悄地去，
我的日子也同样飘忽。
天睡在海的胸脯，我听见他的酣声，
深沉且温柔，
告诉我：不必在意人生的短促。

To Melville

by Meifu Wang

The day plods on, driving an overtired donkey cart,
as I slowly grow impatient with the setting sun
that malingers long after waving goodbye
and continues to sprinkle gold dust at whim,
flooding my chamber with an orangish hue.
But all that I do is waiting for you,
knowing you will come, blending in with the dark.
You are not one of those who adore sunny days,
looking to show off your silver and gold.
You are not in the company of brash flowers
that flirt with honey bees
in constant talk of love.
But I am waiting for you,
knowing you will be here, blending in with the dark.
Alone without the sun, the sky is at her best
for the northern light to return for a gallivant.
You will be here, oh, Mighty Shadow.
You will be here, in the charming shade of the night.
Oh, night, deep as the sea,
I answer your call, deep as the sea.
Written and Translated by Meifu Wang

致梅尔维尔

王美富

时间像蹉跎的骡马车
拖曳着走
我开始对夕阳失去耐心
它挥手告别却慢条斯理
顺便把耀眼的金光撒满水面
彩霞也毫不迟疑地跨进窗户
但是我在等你
知道你和夜晚一起来
你不属于街上的那一伙
他们爱恋白日
依赖白日照亮身上的金色银色
朵朵娇艳的花
常有青头的蜜蜂飞来围舞
在艳阳下一起谈恋爱
但是我在等你
等你来了那就像
北极光飞旋在太阳沉睡以后的天空
你魁梧的身材是黑夜的魅影
啊夜深如海
我对你的爱也深如大海。

To Father

by Meifu Wang

I knew you were with me only as a phantom,
but we spent a beautiful day walking and talking.
I kept telling myself how beautiful it was to see you again.
I knew you came to me as a phantom,
but I said if your phantom brought me such joy
that I couldn't tell the difference between the two joys
— one from being with the living you, and the other with the phantom you —
why should this joy be less than the other joy?
Why shouldn't this phantom world be my desired world?
But I knew all along when I was with you,
while you held my hand and we strolled in the garden,
that you were speaking to me as a phantom.
Therefore I dreaded the moment when you had to go
like Hamlet’s father in Shakespeare’s play.
Later on we walked by a cloister,
a row of cherry trees waited on the loggia,
holding up the dusky sky with their sturdy silhouettes.
I took a step to enter a side room.
I needed to go away for a minute
for I didn't want you to see my weary heart;
I was dreading the moment when you had to leave.
The door closed behind me,
separating me from you and the cherry trees.
But hardly was I inside and you outside
when I sobbed: “Ah, how have I been sad since you left!”
My tears instantly transported you back to me.
You held my face and spoke to me:
“Yes, I know you have been sad.”
I looked at you and said: “I didn't want you to leave.”
You let my head rest on your shoulder, and said: “I know.”
Written and Translated by Meifu Wang

父亲

王美富

我知道身边的你只是一个幻影，
但是今天我们一起散步聊天，我对自己说：
能再一次与你相会我是多么的快乐！
我知道身边的你只是一个灵魂，
但是有你在我的身边我是多么的快乐！
我心中满满的喜悦叫我不能分辩
人间的你与灵界的你有甚么不同。
那么今天的喜悦怎会不如往日的喜悦？
今日的重逢怎么会不如不见？
这个幻影的世界怎不是我心爱的世界？
但是我知道，我知道身边的你，
在花园里牵着我手陪我款款谈心的你
只是一个幻影，
于是我怕你很快就要离开，
像哈姆雷特的父亲从莎士比亚的剧场消失。
走着走着我们来到一间长厢房，
厢房的拱廊外侧种了一排樱桃树，
它们的树干在黄昏里显得特别粗壮。
我紧走一步进入房内，
不让你看出我的忧伤：
我担心你很快就要与我告别。
今天相聚，我要为你戴上笑容。
进了长屋，我把木门在身后拉上，
把你和樱桃树留在屋外，
当你一下不在跟前，我就哭了，对自己说：
“从你离开那天，我一直多么的伤心！”
但是我的泪水把你唤回眼前，
你用手托着我的脸，对我说
“我明白你的忧伤。”
我抬起头来对你说：“我的心不忍你的离别。”
你让我把脸依着你的肩膀，说，“我都明白。”

Dirge

by Meifu Wang

Right, I didn’t give you a proper burial,
not even was I there to see you off on the last day.
Is that the reason why on this dark night
with the winds gentle and fierce
coming from left and right, front and back,
that you fly zigzag, descending halfway from the sky
to disturb this tropical night?
But I had always declared my love for you,
every hour and every day while you were alive,
so why can’t you feel at peace?
I would be
if I were a dog or something so akin to human spirit.
Yes, perhaps once or twice
I didn’t pay attention to how I prepared your meal —
potato and meat mixed in a bowl
set aside for your return.
But that day you didn’t return.
Then, there were human quarrels that drove you into hiding.
You leered at the pale-green faces — faces so familiar —
but, together you and I drove them away.
Tonight, on this tropical avenue,
someone is singing about an eagle;
I ask if she indeed has seen an eagle or perhaps she has seen you.
A few spirits are floating amongst the giant banyan shadows
the way jazz floats out from many corners of this post-colonial city,
with walled-in courtyards, cafés in deep alleys,
some non-native souls, just the same as mine,
in and out of this dark night,
in and out of these dimly-lit streets,
in and out of my half-native consciousness.
Then, suddenly you fly zigzag from dog heaven,
halfway between earth and sky,
to remind me that I didn’t give you a proper burial.
I can dismiss the ghosts that come down to scold me,
I can even greet them with a congenial smile
just to that I haven’t forgotten you,
but this darkishness, this windiness, and the foreignness of this city
will forever remain in my mind
— on these very broad avenues,
where spirits hang out amongst giant banyan shadows
over walled-in courtyards and music from deep alleys.
Written and Translated by Meifu Wang (in Taipei)

挽歌

王美富

是的,我没有为你举行隆重的葬礼,
就是你走的那天我也远在千里。
难道这就是为什么在这个昏黑之夜，
当轻风与狂风从四面八方呼啸而至，
你从空中乘风而降,
打扰这个亚热带岛上的一片空寂？
可是你知道,当你还在的日子,
当你还在的日子每一分每一秒，
我都在向世界宣告我对你的爱
为什么你还不愿意安息？
如果我也是一条狗,曾经体会过人间的情谊，
我一定会感到满足的。
的确,有过那么一两次，
我没有用心为你准备吃的，
把马铃薯和骨头随便拌在一起，
但是那一天你没有回来。
有时人们的争执吓到你跑去躲在角落里,
清澈的眼瞳盯着青绿的脸，
就像天上的火把照出无以言喻的卑鄙，
何况是那么熟悉的面孔，
可是你和我,我们一起把他们驱逐尽净。
今夜,在这条暖洋洋的大街，
有人在浅浅的唱,在唱一首诉说老鹰的歌曲。
我问她是不是真的看见老鹰，
也许她看见的是你。
在这条街上,我还看见古人的灵魂
在老树之间悠游自如,
也听到浪漫的爵士乐从角落飘出。
在这个被殖民过的城市，
街上有几户人家还围着矮墙,深巷里有咖啡屋，
还有那些半洋化的人群，和我也不尽是两回事，
若隐若现,出现在如斯的夜里，
若隐若现,出现在昏暗的小巷里，
若隐若现,出现在这个亚热带的岛屿，
也出没在我不再纯粹乡土的意识里。
而就在这时，
你从空中狗的天堂翩翩而至，
埋怨我没有给你一个隆重的葬礼。
我可以委婉地打发走那个不请自来的面具，
也愿意把他挽留,为的是表明我从来没有忘记你，
但是这深深的夜,这狂野的风,
这个有点陌生的城市,
将会永远的留在我的脑海里。
啊，岛上有郁郁桑桑的菩提树，
粗壮的树干之间有留恋人间的灵魂，
街角有陪伴矮墙的绿竹，
深巷的咖啡屋传来叫人心酸的歌曲。

Reading Baudelaire Into the Night

by Meifu Wang

You speak to me. You speak to me
in a seductive voice.
Not that I don’t dream of your closeness,
not that I don’t crave your words,
but your voice churns up rumbling echoes
that blast open the gates of hell.
The clangors come from all directions —
a motorcycle skidding across the asphalt road,
a screeching head in the blazing sun,
red roosters in the fighting ring,
a tidy garden next to the hospital morgue.
The walls are no longer useful barriers.
You speak to me. You speak to me in verse,
lifting my soul from the river of gloom,
therefore even in sleep, I can feel
the soft breeze of the hour, and hear
music from a light year away,
from the metaphysical world where you are.
But I turn sleepless again at dawn
when your sweet voice returns with unquieting reverberations —
cold silence in the skulled church,
tireless ghost nets adrift at sea,
ducks in New Year's market,
spawning salmon in Upper Snake River...
Then, I remember you are dead, too.

Written and Translated by Meifu Wang

夜讀波特萊爾

王美富

你對我說，輕輕地說，
說到我如醉如癡。然而
死亡的迴響从四方湧来，
連你的詩歌与情誼
都不能抵擋来自陰間的嘶吼。
它們已衝破死靈魂的闸口。
死亡的迴響來自四面八方：
急剎車切過柏油路面，
炎陽下某人在戻聲嘶喊，
深掩的鬥雞場羽毛與血光四濺，
殯儀館邊一排排整潔的花園。
人間的溫柔鄉防不勝防。
你對我說，柔聲細語地說，
說到我如醉如癡，然而
死亡的迴響从四方湧來。
連你絕美的詩句與深挚的友誼
都抵擋不住来自陰間的呼嘯。
它們已衝破死靈魂的闸口。
你對我說，輕輕地說，
說到我眼皮沈重，如幻似夢，
仿佛有天使的翅膀隨身撫慰，
仿佛有歌聲來自遙遠的天邊，
那個屬於你的，無邊無際的精神的世界。
天亮之前，我再次驚醒，再次融入你詩歌的世界，
不料陰間的迴響竟從四方湧來：
噴射飛機正在撕破藍色的天空，
陰冷的教堂裡頭顱砌起的灰牆，
平静的大海中大洞小洞的魚網，
春節的菜場籠子裡關著的鴨子，
清淺的溪流裡滿腹爛斑的鮭魚，
我才想起，原來你也已經死去。。

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 follow the sunrays' imprint
that moved from the ground to the wall;
it has now covered a wider swath than a few hours ago.
Shadows are this way, they come secretly
to occupy the space daylight leaves out.
Oftentimes I stay in such heavenly silence,
easily expending the entire day,
and do not feel the slightest remorse about it.
Translated by Meifu Wang

午后

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。

Aba Above the Clouds*

by Wang Zhiguo

Across ten thousand miles of cerulean blue,
there is one cloud, dreaming and turning.
Amidst interminable prayer chants,
one monastery rises above the mountain mist.
One thousand and one lamas,
one thousand hymns, but one man
stands before his God tongue-tied.
Aba sits in the clouds.
From the north to the south, a sea of grass undulates,
but look,
in the wilderness stands a Kelsang Metog**,
lifting up the lonely sky
with its deep blue sorrows.
Translator’s notes:
*Aba: Aba Tibetan and Qiang Automatous Prefecture in Sichuan Province.
** Kelsang Metog is the Tibetan word for wildflowers.
Translated by Meifu Wang & Michael Soper

云上阿坝

王志国

十万里蔚蓝
一朵云，梦里翻身
云山的庙宇
梵呗声中耸立
一千零一个喇嘛
一千个诵经，一个人
神前失声
云上的阿坝
大地广袤，众草飞奔
突兀的是
寂寥旷野上，一朵格桑
蓝的忧伤
独自撑起一片寂寞云天

Barren Mountain, Ancient Temple

by Wang Zhiguo

There are no likenesses of Buddha,
no lamas chanting sutras,
no lamps burning fragrant oil,
but a broken wall, joining the barren grassland and the sky,
all dedicated to
bleakness.
On this barren mountain, where men rarely come,
the ruin of a temple
embodies a vague human longing
placed by the benevolent gods.
Other than the howling of the mountain wind,
it feels almost like nothingness.
Only the mottled inscriptions on the walls,
as if hidden, as if present,
radiate a kind of unearthly beauty.
In the courtyard, the yellow grass trembles in the wind,
humble like my people;
to this day they persist to embrace life and death
even if the wheel of fortune always returns to suffering.
Only the wind
forever blows and tugs,
as if to pull up the trees, including
their ankles, heels, and hidden root hair.
Translated by Meifu Wang & Michael Soper

荒山古寺

王志国

没有佛像，没有诵经的喇嘛
更没有香火油灯
只有断墙上连天的荒草
供奉着
荒凉
在人迹罕至的荒山中
一座破败的寺庙
像是仁爱的神
留给人间的一个模糊念想
除了呼呼的山风
这里静得近似虚无
只有錾刻在墙壁上斑驳的经文
若隐若现，透着灵气
满园的荒草在风中颤抖
卑微如我的人民
虽历经轮回之苦
但至今，仍在坚持参悟
世间生死
惟有风
持久地吹拂着
仿佛要将那未知的根须
连根拔起。

THE ZOO, Excerpts

by WeiWei

■ GIANT PANDA
Every time I go to the zoo to see the giant panda,
I remind myself:
its white is not a white cat’s white,
its black is not a black cat’s black,
but closer to an infant's eyes,
the untainted white, the untainted black.
Every time I return from the zoo,
I rejoice because of the panda:
among all things from crimson petals to green leafage,
from wildlife to domestic animals,
from greyscale to color photography,
the panda looks more authentic than all of them, refusing
to lure with striking colors.
“I so hope the story of my evolution
can help your dream of regression come true.”
Every time the giant panda comes to mind,
I think of the trajectory of its evolution.
.
■ TIBETAN ANTELOPE
These days I love to paint Tibetan Antelopes,
but never came up with a good resemblance:
all the ewes looked tearfully mournful,
and the rams looked severe, as bad as Magistrate Blue Sky*.
That’s when I decided to go see the antelopes.
Like German Chancellor Willie Brandt,
who went to Warsaw in 1970,
tomorrow I will go to Kekexili**.
Like Brandt going to the holocaust memorial,
I will go to Lake Kekexili.
Like him, I want to go to the water's edge
to offer a wreath, kneel down, and pray:
“ God forgive us!
We pray these suffering souls will find peace.”
Translator’s note:
*Nickname for Justice Bao Zheng (999–1062 CE), a legendary official in China's Song Dynasty and the Chinese symbol of justice.
**Kekexili, or Hoh Xil, is an isolated region in northeastern Tibetan Plateau, an important habitat for Tibetan Antelope.
Translated by Meifu Wang & Michael Soper

动物园组诗（节选）

围围（付正洪)

■ 大熊猫
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。
.
.
■ 藏羚羊
这一阵子我爱画藏羚羊，
可怎么也画不像：
画母的像哭丧，
画公的像包青天。
于是我决定和藏羚羊见见面。
像德国总理维利•勃兰特
1970年去华沙，明天
我去可可西里。像他
去犹太人死难者纪念碑，
我去可可西里湖。明天
我要在可可西里湖畔
像他一样
献花圈，下跪，祈祷：
“上帝，饶恕我们吧，
愿苦难的灵魂得到安宁。”

Poet's Indignation

by Wei Xue

Previously I thought
they only fought on paper.
Their indignation sounded kind of feeble,
too weak to withstand any headwind.
Those in power laughed, and the rich mocked:
“Let them go crazy.”
Their screams were so pale, just like their complexions.
But in fact there was a tiny flame in their hearts,
an eternal flame,
that still burns in Gu Cheng’s(1) black eyes
and in Haizi’s springtime garden.
There will come one midnight
when everyone is awakened by Beidao’s(2) fatal gunshot.
God knows this time who will be the one
hanging upside down from the tree!
(1): Gu Cheng, Haize were two poets who committed suicide in recent history.
(2) Beidao is a widely admired contemporary Chinese poet.
Translated by Meifu Wang & Huang Hongqi

诗人的愤怒

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 in the Lotus Pond

by Wuding

Quickly they flee the sky and come down as heavy rain,
falling on me and darkening my sun-bleached frock.
A brood of cicadas sing a red-army song,
cheering up this summery day.
The wind blows and blows, minding its own business.
A lotus seedpod sways in the twilight,
standing tall over a pond of leaves, all gently caroling.
The night before, the fireflies didn't turn on their lights,
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.
Right here, it is too dangerous to look back even if tempting.
The wind is picking up, shaking the sunrays,
but it cannot sway the iron bloc of the days gone-by
that rubbed against the skin of my tempestuous youth...
Translated by Meifu Wang & Michael Soper

莲叶乱叫

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.
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—obstinate ones
with rough edges, contending with wind and gale.
In his verses, he liked to write about weeds,
weeds trampled by animals
and weeds 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-looking wild flowers
and gorgeous wild flowers of all varieties.
He picked the prettiest one by hand
to take her home as his bride.
In the remaining pages, 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 ruined his own reputation.
Translated by Meifu Wang & Huang Hongqi

墓志铭

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

Every time the temple summons, they respond.
Its huge stone steps roll out like a silent tongue.
Prayers come with fears written on their faces: the bedrock that I look for,
are they really just fleeting clouds, too flimsy to lean on?
Prayers come, with their hearts like a garden overrun by rain,
overrun by a woeful sky, with their parents’ names on their tongues.
Tell us,
Ancestors, we are here to make our offerings, what do you want?
Please tell us.
But He who looks down from heaven
sees only long slender hooks hanging down from the oil lamps...
Translated by Meifu Wang

虚无主义的夜晚

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 art of playing invisible was lost
before Song Dynasty, a contemporary poet said.
But the truth is that in our beautiful country,
many still practice this technique 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 vacation in the temple,
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.
These people live invisibly at life's outskirts with perfect temperaments, year after year after year,
never bother to look right or left,
never bothered by the crushed skull by the road.
Translated by Meifu Wang

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 the crickets
up the flowering rice stalks.
In no time, the rice will be golden. Starting with just a few stems,
then a few paddies, then, almost infectiously,
every single stalk in the valley will look coy, bending its head.
The rice is golden. The countryside turns boisterous.
The rugged men and the domestic-minded women
will all abandon their pastimes.
Even the sparrows hidden in the trees will turn chatty.
Yellow oxens still graze in the field here and there.
Children chase and run, tagging along with grownups,
still in a playful mood even after sundown.
But the rice is now golden. The children count their fingers.
They know when the rice is golden, school will start in just a few days.
Translated by Meifu Wang

稻子黄了

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 in front of me.
A total shock!
Long time no see! We are now complete strangers.
When and where did you go missing all this time
(Ah, so difficult to remember!)
before showing up again now?
You bring to this space a spooky atmosphere.
Your manner, proud and uncompromising as if
you couldn't care less, as if you were from the Wei & Jin Dynasty.
My hands begin to sweat
for I am unable to find a place
to accommodate you — for which I feel ashamed.
Even more, I cannot forgive myself for the mistakes I made
— it was only because of a cold spell
that I allow you to be swept away, gone missing.
In this midnight hour, you, being gone for so long,
cast a contemptuous glance at me; your faint sneer
sends an everlasting chill down my spine.
Translated by Meifu Wang & Huang Hongqi

失踪者

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

Today, a low-salt diet is promoted for health, but I remember the old days without sugar.
Five boys, all sugar-deficient,
queued up like an uneven row of sunflowers,
but each pushed up an inch after the rain.
We had no sugar, 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 our childhood ended there.
Let me jot down another memory here.
One day I saw a rooster flapping and hopping 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 add a personal mark next to a political 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.
Translated by Meifu Wang & Michael Soper

兰州：生长之城

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 have kept a wolf inside of me.
I can’t count how many sheep and cattle I have 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 daily,
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 just kill it.
I let it drink my blood and eat my flesh, knowing
he will leave my bones untouched.
Translated by Meifu Wang & Huang Hongqi

一匹狼

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 stretch out your hand,
slender, withered,
red cardamom on your fingernails
like plum blossoms brightening up winter's 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
inside the 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.
Translated by Meifu Wang & Michael Soper

在圣玛丽娅医院

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 small prophets under torchlight.
In the midnight hour, the sheep come,
crossing the Yellow River
into the 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 a holy scripture
unrolling.
The bygone happiness of childhood
is buried like a milk pail
under the mountain snow.
In the midnight hour, the sheep came
with brave footsteps,
like playful kids, eighteen in all.
In the midnight hour, the sheep came,
and carried away doors and beds
in bamboo baskets.
In the midnight hour, the sheep came,
turning the city into a ghost town,
lighting the torch for their own sacrifice.
In the midnight hour, the sheep came
with human faces, a squad
of rebels in a failed uprising.
In the midnight hour, the sheep came
with a chance to redeem
their fatherland: the parents of an orphan.
Their beautiful chant
had impressed the innocents
to leave home, to kneel down and submit.
In the midnight hour, the sheep came
like a repertory circuit
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.
Translated by Meifu Wang & Michael Soper

入城的羊群

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,
exactly what a thriller needs.
If every single person is like me,
feeling too ill-at-ease
to pursue what they wants,
it only tells the fact that
today’s sunshine, really,
has gone over the top.
Translated by Meifu Wang

夏日两则, 2
天天阳光好其实是一种恐怖

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

11 Roses

by Yi Youxi

One flower begins to wilt,
another flower flaps its wings.
Three more hide in their buds,
the others
show no visible activity.
In the beginning,
I changed water for them arduously,
but they requires less attention now.
Just the day before yesterday
I added some water to the vase
but can hardly tell
if it has gone down by even a drop.
Mr. Jiao Zhongqing*, the tragic hero in one of our old classics,
must have unbosomed himself this way:
Say it, say I am stupid.
Say I’m a fool that I don’t understand elopement.
I am not not considering
elopement.
After all, I must bring a toothbrush, right?
Toothbrushes are not commonly shared,
and pants, too.
Shouldn't I also put together a clean change of clothes?
What about soap and shampoo?
I am not a knight that comes and goes like a shadow,
in forever prim white clothes,
and long wavy hair free of dust.
Have you ever seen a knight
that has to deal with cooking oil, salt, soy sauce, and vinegar?
Have you ever seen a knight
that washes his feet or uses the toilet?
On the contrary, I am only a common man,
so I must have these items:
pots, pans, bowls, ladles, a tub,
wash towel for cleaning,
foot cloth and toilet paper, right?
Her little feet are dainty,
suitable only for delicate walking —
running she can't possibly do,
but I won’t be able to carry her on my back,
so I may get a horse wagon,
padded with a futon and quilts,
and load up two sacks of rice, mosquito coils,
brushes, paper, ink stick, ink stone, and the harp that's part of her dowry.
I must also bring along her weaving wheels.
Only then would I choose a night, pitch dark
for a quiet exit,
to settle in an entirely new place.
I can teach in a small private school;
she will weave and play music
and bring a brood of children into this world
with neither grandmother around.
This, then, is what you all want
for our romance, right?
I have considered elopement, really.
Elopement
is no more than an unexpected disappearance
from family and friends.
See, how can the two of us do any better?
One hangs oneself,
the other leap into the well,
not a trace of us to be found,
all very neat and tidy.
*Translator's note: Jiao Zhongqing (焦仲卿) is
the protagonist in the long poem The
Peacock Flies Southeast ( 孔雀东南飞)
written circa 3rd Century CE. In the poem,
Jiao Zhongqing's wife, Liu Lanzhi (刘兰芝),
was mistreated by his mother, who eventually
forced the couple to divorce. Liu's brother
then made her marry another man after
she went back to her father's home. In the end,
both Jiao and Liu committed suicide
before Liu's second wedding.
Translated by Michael Soper & Meifu Wang

11朵玫瑰

伊有喜

有一朵开始凋谢
另一朵振翅欲飞
还有三朵含苞
余下的
不见动静
我换水
刚开始的时候
要勤快些
现在
它们对水的需求
似乎淡了
前天换的水
一点点
都不见少

焦仲卿自白
说吧说我傻
说我笨说我不知道私奔吧
我并不是没想到
私奔
我总要带上牙刷吧
牙刷是不能共用的
短裤也是
换洗的衣服总要带几套吧
香皂呢洗头膏呢
我不是来无影去无踪的侠客
白衣飘飘一尘不染
长发飘飘不沾灰尘
你看到过侠客的油盐酱醋吗？
你看到过侠客洗脚和如厕吗？
我无非是个普通人
所以总得让我带上
锅碗瓢盆
抹布洗洁净
擦脚布和手纸吧
她可是天生的一双小脚啊
纤纤作细步
奔跑是不可能的
我背着她是不可能的
要不就用马车拉着
顺便搭上棉絮棉被
两袋香米驱蚊片
文房四宝和她陪嫁过来的箜篌
我还想捎上她织布用的机子
在某个黑漆漆的晚上
悄悄出走
到一个全新的地方
我当私塾先生
她织布弹琴
生一堆小孩
没有外婆和奶奶
这就是你们要的
我们的浪漫吧
我想过私奔真的
私奔
无非就是在熟人中间
突然消失吧
瞧我俩做的多么好
一个跳水
一个上吊
一下子消失得
干干净净

My Cousin from the West End

by Yuan Shiping

I called her my temptress cousin,
my tall and 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 up 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 does not know
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 football
kicked around by children playing on the street.
She died a virgin.
Translated by Meifu Wang & Michael Soper

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

The Dani Tribe

by Zhai Wenxi

Deep in the rainforest in Grand Gully live the Dani warriors,
ferocious hunters of eagles and leopards.
Crowned with egret feathers, boar tusks in the nose, leopard spots all over the body,
the Dani warriors arm themselves with poisoned spears or arrows,
ready to pounce at the wind like wolves at a deer.
In the mushroom-shape thatched hut, as my eyes follow the dance of the Dani tribe,
forces of life and death start their battle in my heart —
wriggling buttocks, crowded whistles, breathless drumbeats, a wave of spears, and animal calls.
The Dani people hold hunting rituals and make offerings to their ancestors.
One of the fearless Dani men is dying tonight, and
his wife will raise a stone axe to cut off a finger of her own,
and paint her face with black hibiscus juice.
For her remaining years,
she will continue to wizen until shrivelled like her naked breasts.