Month: May 2014

In Pursuit by Lei Shuyan

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I’m not the water of the Yangtze River
But the yearning tears of the Snowy Mountains.
Drop by drop, day and night, they drip and flow
Then rush into the ocean that I long for.

Since my heart is betrothed to a distant place,
That’s where my ideal is.
I’m not afraid of high mountains and isolated roads,
For I must seek my ocean.

I’m not afraid of zig-zags,
Falls and tumbles.
The pain of yearning
Lasts longer than the pain of seeking.

Bright sun, don’t argue me into staying.
Steep cliffs, don’t block my strides.
Betraying my ideal, accepting other situations
Would drive me stark mad.

Though I’m unsure which road leads there,
I know where my ideal resides.
Even if I have to make a thousand detours
And suffer a thousand setbacks, I will never lose heart.

translated by Fang Dai, Dennis Ding, & Edward Morin

The Pearl by Cai Qijiao

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is the oyster’s wound–
A rough, hard obstruction
Intrudes into its tender body.
Month by month, year after year,
Wrapped in layer upon adhesive layer,
It becomes round, glistening, smooth, glossy.
Crystalized pain, a tear shed by the sea,
Yet all the mundane treasure it!
I sense that it still wears the salt smell of the ocean,
That this glistening teardrop bears
The grief of sun and moon, stars and clouds.

translated by Fang Dai, Dennis Ding, & Edward Morin

pictures

/ zdunno03 / 6 Comments

there are pictures
in drawers
one does not open
some memories
are best left buried
under old receipts
expired warranties
business cards
of places
one doesn’t go to
anymore

Umbrella by Ai Qing

/ zdunno03 / 6 Comments

One morning I asked the umbrella
Whether it would rather bake in the sun
Or stand soaking in the rain

The umbrella answered with a smile,
“Those things don’t bother me.”

I kept on questioning,
“Then what is your concern?”

The umbrella said,
“I keep thinking
On rainy days, ‘Don’t let people’s clothes get wet,’
And on sunny days, ‘Be a cloud that shades the head.'”

from Bring Roses and Cardamon by Horace

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Whether we descend from the great houses,
Or drift unprotected under the naked
Sky, it’s all one; we are sacrifices
To death, not well known for compassion.

We are obliged and herded. The lot is
Inside the urn; the ball with our number
Will roll out. And what we’ll get
Is an everlasting absence from home.

translated by Robert Bly

from The Anger Poem by Horace

/ zdunno03 / 1 Comment

Calm your mind. Heat tempted
Me in my sweet early days, and sent
Me deeply mad to one-sided poems. Now

I want to replace those sour lines with
Sweet lines; now, having sworn off harsh
Attacks, I want you to become
My friend, and give me back my heart.

translated by Robert Bly