Chinese poet

Parting by Gu Cheng

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In spring,
You delicately waved your handkerchief.
Were you telling me to go far away?
Or to come back at once?

No, it doesn’t mean anything
And doesn’t amount to anything.
It’s like a flower fallen into the river,
Like a pearl of dew resting on the flower.

Only the shadows comprehend,
Only the wind perceives,
Only the richly colored butterfly startled by a sigh
Keeps flying back over the heart of the flower. . .

translated by Fang Dai, Dennis Ding, & Edward Morin

A Philosophy of Saws by Liu Shahe

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True. The saws are sawing wood,
But wood is also sawing the saw.
Thus saws are becoming dull–
The more they are sharpened the frailer they get,
And eventually they break.

The wood sawn into boards
Is fashioned into furniture.
Saws just break
And are discarded.

translated by Fang Dai, Dennis Ding, & Edward Morin

a analogy for oppressed people everywhere to keep in mind

My Optimism by Shao Yanxiang

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I’m an adult
My optimism is adult too

My optimism
Doesn’t smile all the time
It has rolled in the mud
It’s been struck on an anvil
It burst out into sparks under the hammer
It burned in a bonfire that almost went out
For a while people scornfully called it dead ash

It has been worked over with nightsticks
Jerked around every which way
Then floated downriver chilled to the bone
None of its fibres
Is tainted by even a speck of dust
It doesn’t wear coveralls
Not my optimism

My optimism
Isn’t a coat
That you sometimes put on and then take off
Nor does it have a pocket with a conscience inside
That you could sometimes bring with you
Or sometimes leave at home

My optimism
leaped into my arms
And it warmed it up with my body heat
After it had been trampled when those
Who had once embraced it cast it aside

I warmed it up
And it warmed me

Double-crossed
And reported on in secret
It grew up step by step
Yet without encountering obstacles
Without a taste of mean tricks
How could my optimism become adult?

Adult optimism
Isn’t always sweet
Sometimes its face is bathed in tears
I once heard it choking back sobs
But it woke out of its grief
Caught my hand
Comforted my heart
Propped my head in both hands
And tried gently to console me
With a tune that only parents would use for a child
Hello old friend inseparable as body and shadow
My long-suffering weather-beaten optimism

translated by Fang Dai, Dennis Ding, & Edward Morin

from Purple Starfish by Xu Demin

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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

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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

To Tzu-chih: among the “Flowers” by Li Shang-yin

/ zdunno03 / 9 Comments

The light on the pool suddenly hides behind the wall,
Mingled scents of flowers invade the room.
On the edge of the screen, powder smeared by the butterfly:
On the lacquered window the yellow print of the bee.
Push those state papers across to the clerks,
There’s a maid for every honest civil servant.
Let’s ride abreast and hear each other’s poems.
What’s so urgent about this business you waste your heart on?

translated by A.C.Graham