Being misunderstood by someone
Is vexation
Being misunderstood by everyone
Is tragedy
translated by Fang Dai, Dennis Ding, & Edward Morin
20th Century Chinese poetry
from Purple Starfish by Xu Demin
And I could not help regretting
That I made decorative patterns on my desk
Of your solidified tears
Now I have set up a miniature gravestone
In the quiet of my heart
If I had not known of your worldly existence
My heart would not have grown this heavy
Not all kindness
Gets the respect it deserves
Not all injuries
Are premeditated a long time
O starfish
Let’s be friends
My heart will be your forest of coral
translated by Fang Dai, Dennis Ding, & Edward Morin
from Late Wind by Xu Demin
I am the sun in children’s eyes that can’t scorch their hands
Around me life has sweets and moisture
Though I lost my flowers long ago
My heart is heavy with hidden fruit
Wind, even though you’re late
I am already ripe
translated by Fang Dai, Dennis Ding, & Edward Morin
Red Azalea on the Cliff by Xu Gang
Red azalea, smiling
From the cliffside at me,
You make my heart shudder with fear!
A body could smash and bones splinter in the canyon–
Beauty, always looking on at disaster.
But red azalea on the cliff,
That you comb your twigs even in a mountain gale
Calms me down a bit.
Of course you’re not willfully courting danger,
Nor are you at ease with whatever happens to you.
You’re merely telling me: beauty is nature.
Would anyone like to pick a flower
To give to his love
Or pin to his own lapel?
On the cliff there is no road
And no azaleas grow where there is a road.
If someone actually reached that azalea,
Then an azalea would surely bloom in his heart.
Red azalea on the cliff,
You smile like the Yellow Mountains,
Whose sweetness encloses slyness,
Whose intimacy embraces distance.
You remind us all of our first love.
Sometimes the past years look
Just like the azalea on the cliff.
translated by Fang Dai, Dennis Diung, & Edward Morin
One Hundred Roses by Tang Yaping
One hundred spring mornings weep for me
They become one hundred autumn twilights
The sword is the longest of paths
One hundred roses bring no comfort to the tomb
One hundred winters I will sleep in your arms
I am a child who has run himself ragged
Only you can embrace all my dreams
And calm me to the rhythm of my own heartbeat
Sleeping soundly in your arms I am transformed into a hundred infants
I curl to your breast and suck in your body’s heat
I am a child crying bitterly with fatigue
Only your kiss can sip my tears
Can give me peace as deep as an ancient well
In your arms I’ll sleep soundly for one hundred winters
I’ll divide into one hundred nude young women and one hundred roses
I’ll brew a choking liquor and hot blood
I am a child tired out from loneliness and growth
Only your crazy rhythm gives birth to my confidence and pride
I accept the comfort of strength
translated by Fang Dai, Dennis Ding, & Edward Morin
In an Airplane by Yan Yi
Ascending, I left noisy earth behind,
Ascending, I passed through sea clouds and mountains clouds.
Ascending, I met the tranquil blue sky,
Ascending, I entered the freedom of high altitude.
But altitude is merely empty space.
My heart falls back to the busy, disordered human world.
The upper air is clear, uncontaminated,
Yet indifferent as ice, without human warmth.
There is endless isolation and quiet,
Yet no irksome jealousy or deception.
Although thinking isn’t prohibited,
There is no heart-to-heart talk with friends,
No path strewn with flowers for me to walk,
No fertile fields to work with plow or sickle.
A seat belt shackles me into my armchair,
This cagelike freedom is stifling my feelings.
Let me go back to earth,
Where grief–such as it is–claims half of life;
The other half is cheerful laughter, fiery hope
Surpassing what’s in the sky, more beautiful than dreams.
translated by Fang Dai, Dennis Ding, & Edward Morin
Poetry Itself Is a Kind of Sunlight by Yan Yi
Believe me, poetry itself is a kind of sunlight
No substance has been found anywhere in the cosmos
That can break the wings of poetry.
Here’s a chance at last to meet one another,
The river in Shenzhen chuckles merrily
The sky sheds joyous tears.
Though we’ve never met before,
We can love each other with brotherly sincerity,
As if we’d lived in the same family
Ten thousand years ago.
Then, believe me, after a hundred thousand years,
We’ll still be inseparable.
Yes, there is a continual interweaving of poetry’s sunlight
While poetry’s sun and our hearts
Burn together
Warming and illuminating the cold world.
translated by Fang Dai, Dennis Ding, & Edward Morin
In Pursuit by Lei Shuyan
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
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
from Liquor by Ai Qing
Don’t gaze upon her as water
To extinguish your grief
For she’s oil poured onto fire
She can make bright people clever
And fools even more foolish
translated by Fang Dai, Dennis Ding, & Edward Morin
Leonard Durso 