this rain
going on seven days
primary school textbook says
“let it rain, let it rain!
let my buds grow in!”
my son also says
he likes the rain
he says the canal in front of our compound
doesn’t stink anymore
2014-09-13
Tr. MW, Nov. 2014
Wang Youwei
HERBSTREGEN
dieser regen
geht schon sieben tage
im volksschullesebuch steht
“nass und nasser, nass und nasser,
lass mir meine knospen wachsen!”
auch mein sohn
mag den regen
er sagt der kanal vor unserer anlage
stinkt nicht mehr so
a group of teenagers
surrounding and beating
a beautiful girl
with fists and feet
with rocks
a country road
in southern france
maybe on sicily
just this one scene
seen on tv
it was in the evening
and I knew it was a movie
I had other things to do
so I could not go on watching
a little sick
all the way sick
abnormally sick
I know what I felt
had nothing to do with the content they showed
but something was kindled inside
I could not pinpoint a reason
I was left hanging
with no place to land
at the supermarket
I see an old lady
she goes to buy peanuts
she goes to chew peanuts
she goes to buy grapes
she stuffs her mouth
doesn’t wait if they’re sweet
she buys persimmons
she squishes
a good one
she buys salted fish
holds a fish under her nose
takes a good whiff
finally
at the check-out
with the clothes-stand
she doesn’t forget
to wipe her hands
Tr. MW, Nov. 2014
Zhuang Sheng IM SUPERMARKT
im supermarkt
seh ich eine alte dame
vielleicht kauft sie erdnüsse?
sie stopft sich erdnüsse in den mund
vielleicht kauft sie weintrauben?
sie kaut die trauben
egal ob sie sauer sind
vielleicht kauft sie kakis?
sie zerquetscht eine
gute
vielleicht kauft sie eingelegte fische?
sie hält sich einen unter die nase
schnuppert gründlich
am ende
bei der kassa
vergisst sie nicht
sich am wühltisch mit den kleidern
die hände abzuwischen
the money my mother gave to me and my brother
that was never enough
she hid in the wood stack in the store room
after a while she thought of looking
rats had bitten three bills
into weird crescent shapes
I took them into the city
to the bank
the bank attendant let me tape them
when I taped half a bill together
he gave me half of the money
300 yuan in rat-notes
became a new bill of 100 yuan
I held it up to the sun
it was real, a brand new portrait
of the great man
at all sorts of places
in many seasons they become victims
on streets on both sides of bridges
inside races and systems,
cities and villages
within knowledge even outside the internet
oh yes
life goes on at the site of the victims
and high tech must be present
so their suffering
is always refreshed
even bystanders are
refreshed, becoming victims
In the old woods
in the dense undergrowth
I loved to see a bit of the moon.
You get a sore neck –
I would lean on a tree
to have a cigarette
to have the best smoke in the world.
But every time I went
I never found a trace of myself –
an invisible walker.
2
Rains went on and on for a week,
like another week was looming.
Came three in the afternoon,
always four or five thunderclaps
rolling over my head.
Someone jumping for fun
in four or five mountain peaks –
but except me
no-one heard any thunder.
2010
Tr. MW, Nov. 2014
Pang Hua
ZWEI GESCHICHTEN AUS DEN BERGEN
1)
damals im tiefen wald
ich sah so gern ein bisschen vom mond
man verrenkt sich immer den hals
also lehn ich mich an einen baum
rauche eine zigarette
die beste zigarette der welt
aber wenn ich wieder hin geh
find ich nichts was mir zeigt wo ich war
ich bin halt unsichtbar
2)
jetzt war eine woche regen
schaut aus nach noch einer woche
nur am nachmittag um drei
tuscht es vier, fünf mal
so ein rollender donner
als wenn vier, fünf gipfel
hupfen wie’s wollen
nur außer mir
hat niemand etwas gehört
my hair
is naturally curled
many friends, especially
women
tell me they’re jealous
when I have a daughter
she should have my hair
no need for a perm
to be already perfect
actually, you don’t know how I feel
ever since I was small
my younger sister
the one thing that made her edgy and worried
was her curly hair
to pursue her perfect style
she pulled them straight
every day
every single one
a screw drops to the floor
in this night of overtime
going straight down, there’s a small sound
nobody notices
just like before
on a night like this
when a person fell down
2014-01-09
Tr. MW, November 2014
Xu Lizhi EINE SCHRAUBE FÄLLT HINUNTER
eine schraube fällt hinunter
in dieser nacht in überstunden
fällt gerade zu boden, ein leiser klang
niemand achtet darauf
genau wie davor
in einer nacht wie dieser
da fiel ein mensch hinunter
sie sagen alle
ich sei ein junge der nicht viel spricht
das will ich gar nicht verleugnen
ob ich spreche oder nicht
mit dieser gesellschaft
bin ich im konflikt
I’m emigrating to the moon
you all shouldn’t be jealous
on the surface there’s all sorts of glory
actually I’m having headaches
for example how do I get there
which is the most practical vehicle
is it the bicycle the public bus
is it the ferry is it an air-plane
is it a rocket is it Shenzhou 10
I have no idea
and so I stretch my hand to the sky
to grasp a white cloud
just like Sun Wukong on TV
with a few somersaults I’m on the moon
at the time of my successful landing
I’m even receiving a telegram
with President Xi’s congratulations
Tr. MW, Nov. 2014
Xu Lizhi EMIGRATION
ich emigriere auf den mond
ihr braucht mich nicht beneiden
zwar ist der ruhm grenzenlos
aber in wirklichkeit hab ich kopfweh
vom überlegen wie ich da hinkomm!
was ist das praktischste verkehrsmittel –
ist es das fahrrad oder die straßenbahn
ist es die fähre oder das flugzeug
eine rakete oder die SHENZHOU 10
ich habe ja doch keine wahl
also streck ich die hand in den himmel
pflück mir eine weiße wolke
mach es wie Sun Wukong im TV
ein paar purzelbäume dann bin ich am mond
im augenblick meiner erfolgreichen landung
bekomme ich ein telegramm –
gratulation von Präsident Xi!
meat should be eaten
there is no other value for its existence
so while I’m eating the meat on my body
bit by bit
I realize
the value of my existence
Tr. MW, Nov. 2014
许立志 存在与价值
被吃掉
是肉存在的唯一价值
因此当我一片接一片地
吃掉自己身上的肉时
我实现了
自我存在的价值
Xu Lizhi ELEVATOR
I’m walking into
a standing casket
as the lid slowly closes
I and this world
are separated
Tr. MW, Nov. 2014
许立志 电梯
我走了进去
一副站起来的棺材
随着棺材盖缓缓合上
我与这个世界
从此隔绝
Xu Lizhi MEDITATION
after writing this poem
I’m going to go among the willows to sit in peace
I’ll watch the sky over the mountains, the sunset
let cicadas call over the lake
wash the dust off this world, and a traveller’s heart
Into the dusk I plead forgiveness, tolerance,
a little mercy, sympathy ….
gegessen werden
fleisch ist für nichts anderes wert
indem ich mich bissen für bissen verspeise
realisiere ich langsam den wert
meines daseins
Übersetzt von MW im Nov. 2014
Xu Lizhi FAHRSTUHL
ich gehe hinein
in einen sarg der aufrecht steht
dann geht der deckel ganz langsam zu
ich und die welt
sind nun getrennt
Übersetzt von MW im Nov. 2014
Xu Lizhi MEDITATION
wenn ich mit diesem gedicht fertig bin
geh ich unter die weiden und setz mich ruhig hin
schau in den himmel, die sonne sinkt hinter den berg
ich lass zikaden zirpen über dem see
wasch mir den staub von der welt,
vom herz eines wanderers,
fleh in den abend hinein um vergebung,
um toleranz, mitgefühl …
people’s names on the boards at arrivals
written in english
or in chinese
written in arabic script
at international arrivals, leaning against the railing
in the corridor along the exit
people are swarming
some of the names carried off by a smile or a hug
some of the names haven’t arrived at being carried off
they are waiting together
becoming familiar
some even looking in one direction
standing next to each other
beginning to talk
breathe, 呼吸 (hu-xi) 开关 (kai-guan) 外内 (wai-nei) open-close out-in breathe 呼吸 what thing 啥事 (sha shi) what the thing 啥呼吸 (sha huxi) what breathe 啥写作 (sha xiezuo) what writing what make up 傻创作 (sha chuangzuo) 作弄 (zuo nong) 打坐 (da zuo) hit sit 装作 (zhuang zuo)
make believe 装作 make up 装冷 (zhuang leng) you’re cold 装热 (zhuang re) you’re hot 发作 (fazuo) break out listen 聆听 (lingting) 等 (deng) wait
给你看 (gei ni kan)
给你听 (gei ni ting)
给你弄 (gei ni nong)
任你想 (ren ni xiang)
4 u please see please hear do your thing think whatever 打坐 吐纳 (tu-na) hit sit in out breathe
呼吸 old new 啥打坐 啥静坐 (sha jing-zuo) meditation 坐禅 (zuo chan) sit-in
occupy central
佔中
走神 (zou shen)
dichten, offen werden, zu atmen, liegen atmen, stehen atmen, sitzen atmen, gehen laufen, sehen atmen, still atmen, stillen atmen, durst atmen, hören atmen, ohr atem schöpfen atem, ein atem, aus atem, warten atem, kommen atem, hör atem, auf atem, fang atem, ball atem, dich
mind is a most wonderful word
make up, open coming, close breathe in, listen breathe in, out breathe in, lying breathe in, down breathe in, sit breathe in, stand breath in, walk running, see breathe in, still nursing, thirst breathe in, hear breathe in, ear take your breath take your width breathe, in breathe, out breathe, wait breathe, come breathe, stop catch breath run, low catch, throw breathe, curl breathe, up breathe, your breathe, thing breathe, make breathe, make up breathe, open breathe, close breathe, close to breathe, body breathe, fear breathe, pain breathe, make up breathe, clothes breathe, colors breathe, white breathe, contact breathe, spar breath, no breath, words breathe, open breathe, clothes come again come loose come win me make up make shut atem make contact atem remember, atem breathe, 呼吸,开关,外内 open-close out-in breathe, 呼吸 what thing 啥事 what the thing 啥呼吸 what breathe 啥写作 what writing what make up 傻创作,作弄,打坐 hit sit 装作 make believe 装作 make up 装冷 you’re cold 装热 you’re hot 发作 break out listen 聆听, 等 wait
the leaves are often just like over there
one week ago I was on the road.
this is a city. sometimes it is fair
sometimes in the morning it’s great to behold
the railway line past central station
rose-colored sky and a few birds
trains and some motorcar lights in the distance
nothing much in between –
overgrown earth, maybe some gravel,
and a few rabbits. if I went down there
maybe I’d see one. they are big hares.
most of it will be a park in the end.
but even now there’s only sky
shot through with traces of planes
slowly unravelling on all saint’s day
today I’m going to see her grave.
das flugzeug fliegt der sonne voraus.
die sonne geht unter.
der mond ist ein strich,
eine feine weisse kurve.
der horizont leuchtet in blau,
hellgelb und weiss.
flug in die rosen-
farbene iris,
farben des feuers.
wenn ich an blumen denk,
denk ich an dich.
der himmel leuchtet
wir sind über rumänien,
irgendwo unten ist sibiu.
gestern abend war ich in kanada.
ich schau ins feuer
ein lagerfeuer war nicht genug
mit anna kubelik.
mit nick dem riesen,
mit seinen messern.
der horizont ist ein leuchtendes rot.
darüber schlieren,
schwarz und dann grün.
der horizont ist ein brennendes rot,
darüber orange,
schwarze schlieren:
grün sind die
grauschwarzen tücher
der wolken.
wir haben schwarze flügel die blinken,
dahinter:
der mond
viennese is the ugliest language
I cannot really tell it apart
vienna was the city of hitler
the city of schirach
vienna was once a city of jews
I am from vienna
viennese is the most beautiful language
vienna was the city of freud
a city of music
I know exactly how it should sound
Presented by Tucson Poet Laureate Rebecca Seiferle!
Bentley’s House of Coffee and Tea, 6-8 pm
photo by Michael Gessner
4
Yi Sha SEX EDUCATION
One of our travels
We didn’t get out very much –
Nine years ago. Led us to Qingdao –
A summer of love
Sand castles, writing on rocks
Fresh clams in small restaurants
Very cheap. I remember
We lived in a school
A hotel for the summer
It was our summer of
Watching movies together
One night we sat
In the video room
All the way until morning
There was a flick about all kinds of fish
We were attracted
And then we felt
Shaken without compare
There was a fish called salmon
They had this one time
Of uninhibited communion
At the end of their lives
Fish of great beauty
Nine years ago
We don’t remember
How great it was
But no-one forgets
The pain at the end
Yi Sha Song dynasty lyrics: Qing Ping Yue
for Martin
Frost state has no temples,
but there are times to see each other.
In my country, small people keep chirping.
Beyond the skies I am finding my friends,
red maple leaves on the trails in green hills,
streams keep on flowing.
Two people born in the year of the horse:
We raise our heads, go like the wind.
Written 10/16/14 at Vermont Studio Center
Tr. MW, Oct. 2014
Yi Sha SONG OF VERMONT
(Tang dynasty style)
Green peaks raise blue skies,
clear brooks meet in ponds.
Maples reflected –
is this the real world?
Wang Wei walked here
to his Journey’s End.
Frost stopped in woods,
we have miles to go.
I am just a guest,
with geese flying south.
Red leaves send us off,
snowflakes greeting spring.
Written 10/16/14 at Vermont Studio Center
Tr. MW, Oct. 2014
Yi Sha RED LEAVES (Tang dynasty quatrain)
Have met frost, heart’s still warm.
So in this fall I meet red leaves.
Should we cover all the roads?
Like a bell I sit in Chang-An*.
Written 10/15/14 at Vermont Studio Center
Tr. MW, Oct. 2014
*Chang-An: Today called Xi’an, capital of China through 13 dynasties. Yi Sha’s home town.
saddam hussain
before they hanged him
asked for a cigarette
fuck! that one smoke
had he drawn it into his mouth
he‘d have been floating in heaven already
one satisfied sigh
at he end of his life
would have been the best cigarette
he ever had
better than each of those
very best quality
cuban cigars
but –
mean little
iraqi warden
stuck to the rules and refused
fuck! what was that for
smokers don’t want very much before death
now he’s past all regret
he had nothing to say
facing his hour
saddam hussain went like a man
the night they announced
the lu xun literature prize
my mobile phone rang
it was the ningxia muslim poet
shan yongzhen. he said:
“only if you are never considered
for the biggest official prize,
you can become
a great poet in china.
tonight my first candidate
would have been chang yao
(who died in 2000)
the second one I thought of
was you, brother yi!”
hearing these words
brother yi stammered
didn’t know what to say
would have liked to hang up
brother shan said:
“so you don’t want to
discuss this topic
in any way?”
I said:
“yes, yes ….”
he didn’t know
what I was doing
I didn’t want to discuss any topic
I was watching a porn flick
on my computer
there was this great
piece of ass from thailand
in front of my eyes
sex is that almost innocent thing
love is that almost innocent thing
dance is that almost innocent thing
life is that almost innocent thing
song is that almost innocent thing
in burlington auf der straße
muss ich daran denken
wie ich vor 12 jahren
nach nordeuropa kam
das erste mal im ausland
das gleiche gefühl
hier wohnen die leute
so viele im wohlstand
im eigenen holzbaukasten
fast wie im märchen
ich denk an meine leute
mietsklaven sind wir ein ganzes leben
nur um unser plätzchen zu finden
im bienenstock in einem wohnblock
12 jahre später
hör ich das vaterland ist so viel stärker geworden
ich will plötzlich heulen ….
vaterland, in zwei tagen
ist dein geburtstag
auch ich war stolz
das du groß und stark bist
ich hab mitgesungen
jetzt kannst du mir erlauben
dass ich mich schäme
dass ich traurig bin
28. September 2014
Übers. v. MW, 2015
Yi Sha ICH SCHWÖRE
wer ganz ohne zweifel
als guter mensch gilt
von allen anerkannt
du
er
oder sie
wag es und zeig mir einen
sofort kann ich sagen
ihr seid schlechte menschen
in einer hinsicht
Sept. 2014
Übers. v. MW, 2015
Yi Sha I SWEAR
whoever is acknowledged by all
without any doubt
as a good person
you
him
or her
as soon as you dare
to point out one
I can say each of you
is a bad person
in that point at least
Sept. 2014
Tr. MW, Oct. 2014
Yi Sha ERKANNT
am frühen morgen
auf fremden straßen im ausland
sie machen ihre übungen
du gehst ihnen entgegen und jeder grüßt dich
wer dich ignoriert
hat ein gesicht aus ostasien
kein japaner
kein koreaner
auch kein taiwaner
keiner aus hongkong
es ist auf jeden fall jemand wie du
vom chinesischen festland
ihr seid wie hunde
erschnuppert den duft den ihr gemein habt
“an den rändern des himmels, den klippen der erde
muss ich euch noch treffen
ein rudel hundsfötter
stinkender
heuschrecken!”
28. Sept. 2014
Übers. v. MW, 2015
Yi Sha RECOGNIZED
early morning
walking on foreign streets
people doing their exercise
when you walk up everyone greets you
the only one who doesn’t look at you
he must be asian
not a japanese
not a korean
not a taiwanese
not a hongkonger
he could only be your compatriot
from the great chinese mainland
just like a dog
sniffs out the one scent we’ve in common
“what the fuck for have I made it all the way here
to the edge of the world
so I can run into
one stinking swarm of you
locusts!”
Sept. 28, 2014 in Burlington, Vt
Tr. MW, Oct. 2014 in Johnson, Vt
Yi Sha DREAM 452
my high school friend huang wenzhen
lives in melbourne, australia
last night I dreamed of her
she sits in a park
in the middle of a street
in australia
her clothes are all black
just like a witch
knows everything in the universe
I walk up to her
I’m sitting down
facing her
I ask her
what happened exactly
that time in our puberty
Sept. 2014
Tr. MW, Oct. 2014
Yi Sha DREAM #453: ON THE RUN
I am on the run
I run to my relative
he gives me a key
I can stay in his backyard
in a house made of glass …
I run to a woman
she is all smiles and takes me with her
to go see her husband
who is the kitchen chef
at public security …
I am crying
on the street in pouring rain
a helpless child
bawling
all through the rain
that year our teacher loved chi zhiqiang
actor who went to jail for loose behaviour
we had a contest for prison songs
my “tears on prison bars” earned me first prize:
black “hero” fountain pen
next door to my studio
a tibetan poet from india
when he was ten
he fled with his parents
writes in english and in tibetan
does not speak chinese
everyday he brings a guitar
actually it’s his own three-stringed instrument
when inspired
he breaks out in song
music goes through the walls
I don’t feel
he is disturbing me
I often prick up my ears
oh, it comes again
he is singing
I feel like I am going to cry
he sings in tibetan
but it is the tune
“nothing is more red then the sun,
no-one is closer than chairman mao…”
die blumen auf meinem tisch sind für dich
die blumen auf meinem tisch sind für dich
sie sind für meine oma
für meine frau
für meine mutter
für meine tochter
für jede frau die blumen mag
die blätter wiegen sich auf den bäumen
die blätter werden noch einmal rot
die blätter treiben den fluss hinunter
die blätter kommen
auf dem dachfirst sitzen die tauben
am strand in der früh
glänzen die steine wie karamell
der fluss ist klar
gestern hab ich gebadet
es gibt reiher und enten und andere vögel
wildgänse ziehen
hoch oben nach westen
im wald ist ein wasserfall
und dann noch einer den bach hinauf
wo wir wohnen ist eine schule
volkschule hauptschule und noch ein college
man sieht hoch übers tal
in einem geschäft bald nach der tankstelle
gibt es eine küche für frisches essen
dort hängt eine uhr
die geht nach links
die ziffern verkehrt
die hängt schon lange
die leute wissen nicht wo sie herkommt
die blumen auf meinem tisch sind für dich
the flowers on my desk are for you
the flowers on my desk are for you
they are for my granny
for my wife
for my mother
any woman who likes them
the leaves are rocking up in the trees
they get red one more time
they float down the river
the leaves are coming
the pigeons are on top of the roof
in the morning
caramel rocks wet on the beach
the water is clear
yesterday I went in again
herons, kingfishers, ducks, other birds
wild geese migrate
high up in formation
why are they going west
not straight south?
in the woods there is a waterfall
up the brook there’s another
where we stay there’s a school
elementary, high school, state college
from the college up on the hill
you see the whole valley
in a store after the gas station
you can get breakfast, fried stuff and such
at the counter they have a clock
clock goes the left way
numbers all backwards
people there say they don’t know where it came
the flowers on my desk are for you
at vermont studio center
in front of maverick writing studio
I ask joann
the female writer from chicago:
“I heard the longest residence here
is twelve months.
have you met any writer or painter
who stayed that long?”
“yeah, I’ve seen one”, says joann
stretching both arms in front of her
hopping forward
at vermont studio center
in front of maverick writing studio
a squirrel
shoots up a big maple tree
I think of you
I want to prove
to the world
in our time
there is still one person
who was unhappy
‘cause he did not become a poet
he could not find peace
that person was you
how does that sound
like a winter’s tale
but here in our world
there are no fairy tales
in fact you told me
25 years ago
“I am a hedonist
and would not be content
to become a poor poet …”
so I have to say
you did what you wanted
you followed the masses
went like all the people
so I relax
and the squirrel
jumps from the tall maple tree
to look at me
in his little eyes
I see only joy
no fear at all
it must be you
your soul is in heaven
moon festival poetry recital
approaching
liaison tells me:
“when you bring your violin
maybe you could play a more joyful tune?
every time you play for us
you make us so sad.
it’s like you’re pulling those strings on a cello.”
I didn’t reply
I was thinking
my violin is an urn
my cello would be a coffin
(made up on mid-autumn moon festival day 2014 at the Xi’an Chang’an Poetry Festival recital)
at the hospital waiting in line
to pay for registration
suddenly he tells me
he wants to go to the bathroom
I let him stand in line
while I go to ask at the counter
then I come back to tell him
go to the second floor, take a left then go straight
it is on the right side
when you keep to the right you can see it
after a while he comes back
all confused.
“I couldn’t find it,
you know I can’t read
everywhere they’re waiting in line
and I didn’t smell
anything like a toilet!”
messi
im argentinischen nationaldress
steht
am rand des dorfes zumglück
ein junger mann mit der nr. 10
des argentinischen nationalteams
kickt
kickt keinen weltmeisterschaftsball
kickt ein pedal
eines motorrads
wartet auf fahrgäste
2014-07-19
Übersetzt von MW im Oktober 2014
Jiang Tao
LUCKY MESSI
Messi
in the official Argentine colors
standing
at the entrance to Lucky Town
he is number 10
this young man
in the Argentine team dress
kicking
no official world-cup ball
kicking
a motorcycle pedal
waiting for passengers
gihon is one of the waters of paradise
under our windows in johnson town.
how long did adam and eve have their residence?
maybe four weeks. not even that.
then they were driven to the next airport.
it was the snake. it was the tree.
it was the apple. it was the gas station
stocked with the cider. the chinese restaurant.
actually god is a jolly old fellow
tells everyone how they founded the place.
god has the breadth. god has the width of it.
maybe the masons one hundred years ago
building their temple, leaving their clocks –
there is that clock down in the grocery store
clock that goes leftwards, numbers all turned –
maybe the masons were like the hippies.
anyway if you are in paradise
most of the time it is just life.
you tell your wife you are in paradise.
you tell your husband, you tell the kids.
they will say nice, hope you are coming back.
then you are gone. maybe you come again.
I’m sure the river stays for a while.
“when I see such a town
here in america
I have this feeling
of lurking horror
maybe from the movies
guess I’ve seen too many”
I say to martin
my translator from austria
“I know what you mean”,
martin says,
somewhat to my surprise
“in austria, are there many small towns
such as this?”
“yes, very many”
“when you see those towns
do you have a feeling
of lurking horror?”
“yes”
“why? it is your native country,
you must know it quite well …”
The train was passing the Yellow River
I was in the toilet
I knew that pissing wasn’t the right thing
I should have sat at my window
or stood at a door
left hand on my hip
right hand at my brows
gazing out like a Great Man
at least like a poet
having thoughts on the river
on old debts of history
everyone was gazing out
I was in the toilet
taking my time
finally I had time for myself
I had waited one day and one night
in the time it took for my business
the Yellow River had flown far away
the organ and the choir begin
the people on the house are dead
the people at the bank are dead
the people at the post are dead
the houses in the town are old
the alleys and the streets are old
the organ and the choir begin
the children from the town are dead
the old ones from the town are dead
the women from the town are dead
the menfolk from the town are dead
the organ and the choir begin
the angels in the church are dead
the figures in the light are dead
the figures in the dark are dead
the alleys and the streets are old
the houses in the town are old
the organ and the choir begin
I flew from beijing into detroit
and there I walked to immigration
facing two members
of the border police
one checking people
one checking luggage
I didn’t care what they were doing
I came prepared with one magic word
“I am a poet”
(from my successful experience
at the embassy getting a visa)
one policeman was old, one was young
but their expressions
surprised and delighted and even respectful
were exactly the same
over and over they stamped my passport
actually I had some experience before
this is not the first time I’m going abroad
except in my country where I keep quiet
I beat my chest everywhere and exclaim:
“I am a poet!”
shsh! don’t let the terrorists hear me
god bless america
and keep it safe
Yi Sha
HAVING MY VISA REFUSED AT THE AMERICAN EMBASSY
all morning till noon
one hundred people in a small room
like smuggled in a container
among boring figures and faces
a beautiful girl studying ballet
brings us all to attention
before my meeting with the official
I have a bit of bad feeling
among the people who get a visa
not one man under 50
only two men
an old guy with his wife
and one so small he doesn’t reach to the counter
America’s scared
they are really afraid
must be scared of our men!
holy shit! visa-official with a big beard
looks like a muslim, much more than me
much more like a terrorist
he doesn’t deliberate
he’s very sure he’s refusing my visa
must have seen something in my eyes
we say big apes cherish each other
he saw some deep hidden blood lust
an intention to immigrate
he’s reading the signs
the great li taibo from the tang dynasty moving to persia
no fucking international jokes please
holding my head up while taking my leave
I see the ballet girl was also refused
at another counter by a black woman
but she’s one happy duckling
flying outside with a song on her lips
“her parents were forcing her to go to america …”
someone from the crowd knows how it is
Ist second: mouth barn-door open
2nd second: wooden-chicken stiff
3rd second: couldn’t believe it
4th second: it must be true
5th second: what a great fire
6th second: well they deserve it
7th second: this is retribution
8th second: these buggers have guts
9th second: must be their religion
10th second: before I realize
my own little sister
lives in new york
I need a telephone
long distance call!
can’t get a connection!
I go storming for a computer
where is the internet
typing out characters
writing an email
shaky fingers
“sister, sister!
are you alive?
your elder brother is worried sick!”
After the verdict of life in jail against Ilham Tohti 伊力哈木, the Chinese writer Wang Lixiong 王力雄, who published a lot about Xinjiang, said the Chinese government had just created the Chinese Nelson Mandela. Some foreign media gleefully took up this topic, especially when the official Xinhua (New China) agency angrily denounced the suggestion. I remember when Wang Lixiong was discussed on the MCLC list not long ago. There was a zoologist who saw a quote from an essay by Wang Lixiong, maybe in the NY times. The zoologist, who had worked in China, thought Wang was fomenting racial hatred, like certain African American civil rights activists in the 1960s. Actually, Wang had tried to express the desperate anguish among Uighurs and other marginalized people in China. Ilham Tohti just got life in jail for a bunch of isolated quotes like that one from Wang Lixiong.
The struggle for civil rights and life in dignity is always within a particular society, not between countries or hemispheres. The workers in the brick kilns of Vienna’s 10th district, where we now live, were championed by Victor Adler, physician, psychiatrist and founding organizer of the Social Democrats. The great strike of 1895 resulted in one dead worker and many wounded, but also eventually in a big turn-around in conditions through a widened conscience and consciousness in the middle class. Wanting to catch up with a supposedly more progressive society or country or hemisphere helps a lot, of course. There is something like international conscience. China’s famous anarchist novelist Ba Jin protested against the death penalties for Sacco and Vanzetti, while he was in France. Many Chinese working students went to France as part of China’s engagement in the First World War. Deng Xiaoping was among them. Ba Jin 巴金, who took his pen name from the transliterations of Bakunin and Kropotkin, lived until 2005. I visited his house in Shanghai in December, it is a museum now. Ba Jin was very, very lucky to live for almost 100 years, although he was also “struggled against”. In the 1980s and 1990s, he argued for a museum about the atrocities of the 1960s. But after 1989, there was and is no hope for that kind of thing, except in small private efforts. Where did Ba Jin get his Anarchism? Were Bakunin and Kropotkin translated from Russian or from Japanese? Communism was imported into China via Japan, Prof. Qin Hui 秦晖 argued in Vienna in July at a China and First World War symposium. Along with nationalism, and the result was a radically Stalinist brand, eventually. There are complicated international economic and political implications, then and now. But still, developments in worker’s and citizens actual conditions and rights are the result of a struggle for conscience and consciousness in a particular society. Rights do not come from the barrel of a gun. When a government disappears students to frame them with the supposed crimes they did for their teacher, so they can be made to frame their teacher, and these disappeared students suddenly appear on TV, shackled in orange uniforms through prison bars, after their parents have looked for them for half a year or more, not knowing if they are still alive, and when professors from other universities declare that since it has been proven through these students and from clearly oppositional statements of the accused teacher in class and from students and other authors on a website he founded that he incites racial hatred, it is clear beyond doubt he has to be put away for life, because no society in the world would or should tolerate incitement for racial hatred after what happened to the Jews in the Second World War and so on – if Uighur students are disappeared just like that and suddenly paraded on TV and no-one asks what they are really accused of or if they were tortured, no-one asks how many months they and their teacher spent shackled in leg irons, no one asks if the government would dare to do that to Han Chinese students and professors – what am I getting at? There is a big lack of conscience and consciousness, a lot of repression. Again, this is a struggle within a particular society.
My translation of Liu Zhenyun’s 刘震云 “1942“ (温故一九四二)is coming out in German these days. With biting sarcasm, Liu describes the loneliness at the very top. At summit meetings, those statesmen often shake each other very warmly by the hand, or even hug and kiss each other. That’s because they are class brothers, says Liu’s narrator. They might be lonely, because nobody understands them. They would like to care for ordinary people, only there are always more pressing concerns. But they can still rest at ease, because no matter what happens, even if millions are being killed by famine and war, everyone else will be affected before them, they will always be most well protected.
The loneliness of a man or a woman who has lost everything is a very different situation from that of a government leader. Liu Zhenyun describes both in harrowing details. I asked Chen Xiwo 陈希我, the celebrated novelist whose works are banned in China, how he would compare Liu Zhenyun’s “1942“, originally written 1992-1993, to other important realist works in the 1980s and 1990s. If you compare it to Zhang Wei’s Old Ship 古船 from 1985 and Chen Zhongshi’s White Deer Plain 白鹿原 from 1993, Chen Xiwo said, the political analysis in “1942“ is the best.
er ist ein vergewaltiger, war im gefängnis deswegen.
nachher hat er am straßenrand fahrräder repariert,
hat auf der straße scherben und reissnägel verstreut.
er hat einen schlanken vergewaltigerkörper,
ein typisch törichtes gesicht und ein
kaltes geschau, das auf die straße schießt.
ein blick der sagt: “Ich werde dich vergewaltigen.”
seine blicke sind blitzende reissnägel,
zerfetzen von weitem die reifen der mädchen.
mir kommt die ganze zeit vor er ist kein fahhradmechaniker,
oder ein reissnägelstreuer.
egal wie er fleißig ist, von seiner arbeit lebt,
für mich ist er ein vergewaltiger.
aber jetzt ist er alt, streut keine reissnägel.
ein bisschen ansprechende frauen fahren nur mit dem auto,
stopfen sich hupend in gänsedärme der kleinen gassen.
im schatten der bäume auf seinem alten segeltuchlehnstuhl –
er ist immer noch mager, aber vertrocknet.
er will nicht aufwachen als vergewaltiger.
als vergewaltiger seh ich ihn auch nicht mehr,
höchstens als einen in späten jahren. was mich beschäftigt:
gibt es bald keine fahrradmechaniker?
“The United Kingdom is here to stay. Actually, no matter what the outcome would have been, the vote in Scotland has shown to the people of another certain country that in such a crisis, England does not evoke a “anti-split-up-law”. There are no armored vehicles on Scottish street corners, Scottish leaders have not been branded as betraying and selling out the great English nation, and not one citizen has been thrown in jail for fomenting trouble and encouraging independence. Just for these few points, Great Britain, the sun has not set on your empire!” (A Weibo user in China
I say, there are some films and TV-series nowadays not bad at all,
like those hand-pulled demons.
Pulling those demons comes after the demons chop down people,
comes after they are still happy from having chopped down people.
Those Japanese demons come from across the sea,
they loose their souls anyway on the long journey.
Actually, I have only seen chicken ripped apart with bare hands,
they also have duck meat in handy bits, and then pulled beef, pork, dog legs.
“Pulled demons”, must be the will of the gods.
Pulled demons, that’s really not very easy.
If we see them one day, let us have some together!
Pigtail is meeting his friend at the tent.
“Bao, do you have cigarettes?”
That box of cigarettes was stolen,
just like the type 64 handgun up on the roof.
Bao sits on the bed in the construction tent.
He broke his leg when they ran with the pistol.
Bao wants to sell it
and go to the hospital to get his leg fixed.
Pigtail is all against that.
“Bao, they will take down your head!”
Bao starts to cry,
crying harder and harder: “Look at the state I’m in!”
“I haven’t eaten at all for two days.
You want my leg to stay broken?”
Now Pigtail starts crying.
He’s wiping his face: “Look at this state we’re in!”
Pigtail decides to sell the gun.
He sells the gun to Mr. Dong.
This was the beginning of a big case:
The 12/1/97 murders* in Xi’an.
On such a night everyone thinks of the murders
I think of Pigtail and of Young Bao.
These hopeless kids from the bottom of China,
this people’s poet can’t get them out of his head.
1998-1999
Tr. MW, August 2014
*This serial murder case from the beginning of 1998 was made into a TV series and broad-casted all over China in 1999 and 2000. The police gun mentioned in the poem was lost on December 1st, 1997, and the case was eventually named after that date. The police in Xi’an were pressured to solve the murders before March 31st, 1998, because US-President Clinton was coming to Xi’an in June. See John Pomfret in the Washington Post.
(http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-srv/WPcap/2000-01/13/086r-011300-idx.html)
伊沙 《中国底层》
jedes jahr im sommer
fahren frau und sohn
zu verwandten nach henan
ich bin endlich allein
für ein paar tage
ein paar porno-dvds
ein paar neue gedichte
in plötzlich groß gewordenen zimmern
ein paar gedanken
über ganz viel im leben
August 2014
Übers. v. MW, 2015
Yi Sha MOST IMPORTANT DAYS OF THE YEAR
summer holidays
my wife and my son
both gone to henan
to visit relatives
I’m all alone
to spend a few days
watching porn dvds
writing new poems
in this big empty flat
I have time to think
about my whole life
a public intellectual
that means a rightist
comes to our town
to present his new book
at a big bookstore
he asks me to come
and introduce him
my answer is
“I would rather not
go up on the stage
but I’m asking you to dinner”
a leftist professor
arrives in our town
to hold a speech at some university
he asks me to go and eat with him
I stoutly refuse
you’d first have to kill me
I am afraid of our picture together
all over the Internet
forever ruining my reputation
August 2014
Tr. MW, August 2014
Yi Sha 《我的立場》 MEIN STANDPUNKT
a public intellectual
also ein rechtsabweichler
kommt in die stadt
um sein buch vorzustellen
fragt mich ob ich bereit bin
im großen buchladen
ihn anzukündigen
ich sag “ich mag nicht auf die bühne,
aber ich lad dich zum essen ein!”
ein linker professor
kommt in die stadt
hält einen vortrag
an einer uni
lädt mich ein zum bankett
ich lehne ab
ich geh niemals hin und wenn er mich umbringt
ein foto mit ihm
kann mich im internet
fürs jahrhundert ruinieren
in this Internet bar
there is this old iron stove
from long time ago
with a metal chimney
going outside the house
up on the ledge
you can roast sweet potatoes
that kind of stove
above my head
there’s a gaslight
shining bright
just like the moon
August 2014
Tr. MW, August 2014
Yi Sha TRAUM NR. 442
es ist winter
in einem internetcafe
will ich online gehen
das internetcafe
hat einen großen eisenofen
aus dem letzten jahrhundert
mit einem blechummantelten rauchfang
auf dem ofen
kann man süßkartoffeln backen
über meinem kopf hängt ein
gaslicht
hell
wie der mond
month of long days
and of strong sun
fresh-bought cabbage
curled at the sides
all turned to mush
it’s graduation day
the day I became a worker
at the cement factory
the day of the operation
my wife borrowed money for from everyone
the birthday of
one of my daughters
the day my father
dies
sun like an oven
there is no way to let father stay
after a hurried funeral
I lead my shaking mother back to the cave onto the kang
no sound from mother
all through the month
there is no sound
remember haizi
reading in honor of haizi
recital in honor of haizi
haizi symposium: call for papers
remember haizi
haizi haizi haizi haizi haizi haizi haizi haizi haizi haizi haizi haizi haizi haizi haizi haizi haizi haizi haizi haizi haizi haizi haizi haizi
searching for bei dao
reading in search of bei dao
recital in search of bei dao
symposium in search of bei dao: call for papers
searching for bei dao
bei dao bei dao bei dao bei dao bei dao bei dao bei dao bei dao bei dao bei dao bei dao bei dao bei dao bei dao bei dao bei dao bei dao
Li Yunqi
LEADER, HOW COME YOU BECAME A CRIMINAL MONSTER?
— surprised to see security chief Zhou Yongkang reduced to a prisoner
For a long time, you were our leader.
On the chairman’s pedestal,
you stood tall and strong.
On the TV screen,
your vigor was shining.
Your voice carried strength,
you were sound as a bell.
You fought against crime,
you were unforgiving.
When you held the reins,
to protect law and justice for our nation,
every man on the street stood behind you.
Now I know, you became a criminal
only because you lost your power.
If you were still up in control,
no-one could do anything,
no-one would ever dare raise his voice.
Every ounce of a doubt
would have been slander.
Every one not behind you
would be against you.
Each one resisting
would be a traitor.
When you were up and running,
who gave you the highest place at the top?
And when you lost power,
who made you a stinking criminal monster?
Black and white, right and wrong,
Great leader and criminal,
it was all very sudden.
If you held onto crime and controlled justice,
should I believe fairness rules in society?
If greed led you all the way to the peaks,
should I believe in a value system?
How about people judged criminals by the criminal,
are they endangering our nation?
How long will it take till we won’t hear any lie in the media?
How long until power isn’t a wrestling driven by greed?
When will it be that my hand,
a small helpless hand,
becomes a shield to cut off crime when it spreads?
heiliges licht wo immer du bist
lass mich stehen stille schauen
du bist ein baum ein busch ein strauch
du bist ein haus
du bist der glanz
du bist die pracht
im vogelruf
heiliges licht wo immer du bist
lass uns stehen stille schauen
du bist die zeit
du bist der ort
du bist der himmel
in unseren herzen
heiliges licht wo immer du bist
gib uns stille gib uns staunen
gib uns arbeit
gib uns muße spiel gespräche
gib uns aufeinanderhören
amen
I want to invite all my friends
and cook a meal
and then we talk on the balcony
on my balcony
I have the luxury
of space for a wicker chair
and a small table
hit by the sun
every morning
the former camp of the production brigade
has become our ancestral hall
we say the Zhao family temple
when I was small
every time I passed this place
I felt its mystery
people’s commune and county leaders would often gather
alcohol fumes drift through the air
none of us dared to steal a look at those dignified faces
at the spotted western wall
five classic characters written in lime:
LONG LIVE CHAIR-MAN MAO
solemn and serious
I thought there must be many officials in the whole country called Chairman Mao
and wondered if there was one in our production brigade
löwen haben kein kleingeld dabei
löwen brauchen fleisch zum essen
löwen haben kein kleingeld dabei
löwen haben kein geld dabei
löwen haben kein geld
löwen haben gar kein geld
löwen brauchen fleisch zum essen
löwen sind keine löwen im sternzeichen
löwen haben keine sternzeichen
löwen haben kein geld
löwen können nur in der steppe bleiben
löwen brauchen fleisch zum essen
lions haven’t brought change
lions need to eat meat
lions haven’t brought change
lions haven’t brought money
lions have no money
lions just don’t have money
lions need to eat meat
lions aren’t leo
lions have no zodiac
lions have no money
lions can only stay in the grasslands
lions need to eat meat
Tr. MW, July 2014
Jiang Tao
LÖWEN HABEN KEIN KLEINGELD DABEI
löwen haben kein kleingeld dabei
löwen brauchen fleisch zum essen
löwen haben kein kleingeld dabei
löwen haben kein geld dabei
löwen haben kein geld
löwen haben gar kein geld
löwen brauchen fleisch zum essen
löwen sind keine löwen im sternzeichen
löwen haben keine sternzeichen
löwen haben kein geld
löwen können nur in der steppe bleiben
löwen brauchen fleisch zum essen
meine eltern waren nie hier,
sie sind nie so weit gekommen.
herrlich und einsam ist diese brise,
doch auch dieser wind rührt nicht an ungreifbare gestalten.
sie sind gestorben, nicht in meiner heimat,
aber die heimat mag ihnen nah sein,
von mir hier sind sie sehr, sehr weit weg.
die leeren plätze sind in den sternen.
heut auf dem balkon an der mündung der loire
zeig ich mit den zehen am meer in die nacht.
sehnsucht im wind weht durch mich durch,
nach ihrem tod war die welt auch so fremd.
taking a walk in the afternoon
I come out of the east gate of fengqing park
and I see
a young woman leaning on a bicycle
talking on her cellphone:
“hello, director chen
just let my kid into your school
on top of the 50,000 sponsoring money
I will add 10,000 for you,
ok? ….”
behind her
on the back seat of the bicycle
sits a little boy
three or four years old
I walk down the street
but after a while
under the afternoon
hot summer sun
I want to cry
not because I am moved
I’m not moved at all
it was no surprise
it was perfectly normal
but I want to salute
the downtrodden masses accepting their fate
myself among them
the great chinese people
gäbe es keine weltmeisterschaft
schaute ich heute nacht in die sterne
dächte an große fragen der menschheit
meditierte im dunklen zimmer
im großen und weichen
simmonsbett säße ich
und sagte sutren auf
bis im osten der tag anbräche
morgenrot den himmel erfüllte
aber —
gäbe es keine weltmeisterschaft
wäre ich sicher nicht wach
they scurry across like wandering souls at the train station
at the machines the industrial zone squalid rented rooms
their thin female bodies like knifeblades like paper
hair fibres air their fingers cut
iron plastic film etc they’re numb and exhausted
like wandering souls packed into machine tables
work clothes assembly lines their glowing eyes
in the bloom of their youth scurrying into the shadowy stream
they created themselves I can’t tell them apart
I am standing among them no one knows who I am a sack of skin
limbs movement vague expressions one harmless
face after another they are always assembled lined up
forming electronics factory anthill toy factory beehive females
smiling standing running bending curling
each simplified into one pair of hands thies
fastened screws cut iron sheets
compressed plastic curved aluminum cut fabric
their frustrated satisfied weary happy
tangled up helpless lonely expressions
they come from villages hamlets valleys teams they’re intelligent
awkward they are weak timid
today they are kneeling before the shining glass windows doors
black-clad security polished limousines green tangerines
gold-emblazoned factory name shining in sunlight
kneeling at the factory gate holding up a cardboard sign
awkward charakters “give us sweat-and-blood-money”
they look quite fearless as they kneel at the factory gate
surrounded by a crowd days ago they were colleagues
from the same province friends coworkers above or below
women without any expression watching four kneeling women workers
watching four colleagues dragged away by security watching
one of the four losing a shoe watching another worker
getting her pants torn in the struggle silently watching
four kneeling women dragged far away in their eyes
there is no sadness no joy without any expression entering the factory
their tragedy leaving me sad or depressed
Yi Sha WATCHING THE BEIJING CAPITAL INDOOR STADIUM FROM A WINDOW OF THE JAPAN AIRLINES NEW CENTURY HOTEL
It isn’t as grand
as it was before;
but still my heart
goes pounding.
So many beautiful
youthful memories;
like the willows around it,
they are still blowing.
One evening in May, 1987
I was here watching the game
when the Chinese badminton team
won all five world championship titles
for the first time.
I saw Yang Yang beat Morten Frost
Li Yongbo and Tian Bingyi
They were still in the team
and won the men’s doubles for the first time.
After the games
I rode a shoddy bicycle
through Beijing’s midnight streets
shouting and screaming
“Long live China!”
in between the traffic.
In the same year
I went with a girl
to the Northwest folk rock concert
“My hometown is not beautiful,
low straw houses, bitter well water …”
Tengger’s voice, my blood went boiling.
After the concert
I didn’t bring her home,
just up to the night bus;
that was the more responsible way …
Oh, someone’s knocking,
my friends are here.
I have to leave the window
and open the door.
Oh, I haven’t thought
of that time for a while.
actually, they have
just finished their early shift
and found a noodle shop
to let their spent up bodies rest for a while
handmade noodles, two yuan fifty fen
they don’t want to pay any more for the sauce
only a tea-egg
colored much like their skin
happiness rolled into one
they keep the egg and the soup till the end
as if to remind themselves
not to let this darkness
pass into their wives’ pregnant bellies
Prone to nosebleed since I was small
I have a few methods
to stop the blood.
Ice-cold water on the forehead;
middle finger tied at the base;
raise up your hand on the other side;
block your nose with tissue paper.
It might also be a good choice
to use chalk from the blackboard.
The most unique method
comes from my grandfather, my mother’s father.
Up in the hills or in the fields
suddenly my nose was bleeding.
He never panicked,
took off one shoe (those shoes made from cloth),
one side of the sole
he pressed on my nostril
and kept rubbing.
From the sole, a taste of mud;
a taste of sunlight;
a taste of grass;
a taste of sheep droppings;
a taste of dead insects;
stirred up together
right up my nostril.
I choked and gasped,
the blood shot back up.
Great video. Yan Li has been an important figure in art and poetry in China and outside for a long time. I have translated a few of his poems. I like this one for the same reason that Paul Manfredi states – having cared for small children. And the poem reminds me of Hung Hung and Duo Duo. And I like Yan Li, as I said.
soccer fans all over the world
know about pele’s predictions
he knows before who wins the crown
and who must go down
even brazil his own team
he has predicted bad luck for them
several times, these are
all facts
proving
he’s the real deal
king of the game
every real king talks to the spirits
right or wrong is all one
der mond ist groß und hell hinterm haus gegenüber
nicht sehr weit oben, gleich über den kränen
der erste sommer im neuen haus
der erste winter, der erste frühling
der war nass und kühl
jetzt ist es richtig sommer geworden
so viele mohnblumen
so viele lichter
so viele neue wohnungen
und ein besetztes haus in der nähe
wahrscheinlich kommen die schmierer von dort
die unsere neuen häuser verschönern
ein sechzehnjähriger liegt noch im koma
nach einer ubahn-graffitti aktion
die polizei war offenbar gründlich
und die security der wiener linien
der mond ist rund und hell hinter wolken
gleich dort hinterm haus
on august 23rd 1931
sholohov and pasternak
sat down together for breakfast
at moscow airport
before bording a plane bound for kiev
to watch the soviet soccer team
they were invited
70 years ago in the soviet union
the official writer’s association chairman
and a dubious poet
the only time they went out together
it was all in the name of soccer
70 years later in china
one week ago
I had the same experience
2001
Tr. MW, June 2014
Yi Sha
MEMOIREN
am 23. august 1931
saßen scholochow und pasternak
am moskauer flughafen
im kaffeehaus zusammen beim frühstück
dann stiegen sie in ein flugzeug nach kiew
dort spielte das sowjetische team
sie waren beide eingeladen
vor 70 jahren in der sowjetunion
der präsident des autorenverbandes und ein dichter der grauzone
auf dieser einen gemeinsamen reise
und nur für den fußball
siebzig jahre später in china
vor einer woche
hatte ich die gleiche erfahrung
I dreamed of
dutch coach van marwijk
beaten in the finals
in his silver-grey suit
that familiar image
but on his left chest
a bloody hole as big as a plate
as if he’d been bombed
black smoke still curling
his heart fell out
a crimson frog
skinned for the frying pan
jumps on the lawn
his son-in-law
mark van bommel screaming
“quick! put our trainer’s heart back in place!”
bald robben looks old
missed three golden chances
now he’s kneeling down
picks up the heart
and puts it back
into the hole in van marwijk’s chest
and then the whole team
each one hugging the trainer
the hole in his chest
has disappeared
caught by a whiff of salty fish
I know I have entered the square
the biggest fish market in town
is on the south side
so the square has been reeking
all through the years
at the east is the science museum
never been in there
don’t know what they have
young pioneers palace is on the west side
I sneaked in alone
when I was 14
to see the human body display
I stood in front of a model
of female sexual organs forever
without understanding
now I’ve come to the north of the square
they call it the front side
from a double decker window
I can see everything
the province government building
looks quite imposing
up there my wife whiled her hours away
for shabby pay
the square – concrete slabs and some grass
they are lowering the flag
it’s at the middle now
looks like half-mast
22 years ago in september
we were standing here mourning
the former leader who had just died
red kerchiefs and our young faces
drenched in icy autumn rain
our white-haired principal
standing there howling through wind and rain
“What will happen to China?”*
I can see the whole scene
now I see the spectators gleaming
in the sunset
a heap of tangerines
I see two people
have left the ranks
they are two grown-up men
holding hands
running towards the east of the square
and my bus keeps going west
so I can’t make out
where they might be going
1998
Tr. MW, June 2014
*“What will happen to China?”, literally “Whither China?”, “Where is China going?”, in Chinese Zhongguo Xiang He Chu Qu 中国向何处去 was the title of a political essay published in Big Character Posters in 1968, written by the 19-year-old Yang Xiaokai 杨小凯 who was sentenced to 10 years in prison for his text. In the end he became an economist and taught at universities in China, USA and Australia (online sources).
ein gestank nach salzigem fisch
sagt mir ich bin auf den platz vorgedrungen
der größte fischmarkt der stadt
ist im süden des platzes
deshalb ist er durch die jahre
von diesem geruch durchweht
im osten steht das technische museum
ich bin nie hineingegangen
weiß nicht was es drinnen gibt
im westen steht der jugendpalast
einmal schlich ich mich hinein
als 14jähriger schüler
es ging um das geheimnis des körpers
ich stand sehr lange vor einem modell
weiblicher fortpflanzungsorgane
ich blickte auch am ende nicht durch
jetzt bin ich schon am nordrand des platzes
man sagt hier die vorderseite
aus einem doppeldeckerfenster
kann ich alles überblicken
das provinzregierungsgebäude
erhebt sich doch recht stattlich
meine frau war dort oben beschäftigt
für kümmerlichen lohn
über den platz – gras und betonziegel
man lässt gerade die fahne hinunter
sie ist bei der hälfte
sieht aus wie auf halbmast
im september vor 22 jahren
standen wir in trauer hier
der frühere staatsführer war grad gestorben
junge gesichter mit roten halstüchern
im eisigen herbstregen
der schuldirektor mit weißen haaren
stand heulend und jammernd im wind und im regen
“was wird aus china?”
ich hab es noch genau vor augen
jetzt seh ich die zuseher
in der sinkenden sonne
sehen sie aus wie ein haufen orangen
ich sehe auch zwei menschen
sie haben sich schon aus der menge gelöst
es sind zwei erwachsene männer
hand in hand
laufen sie zum osten des platzes
mein bus entfernt sich nach westen
ich kann nicht erkennen
wohin sie am ende gehen
in my first two days in lhasa
I bought two lighters
one with a picture of robben
the other with messi
they were both useless
breathless entirely
on this snowy highland
on the roof of the world
even lighters
show a reaction
even soccer stars
can’t keep up the flame
but on the third day
we went up the potala
when we came down again
at the bottom
in a small shop
I bought another one
this lighter had no problem at all
it showed a picture
of a living buddha
May 2012
Tr. MW, June 2014
Yi Sha 3 FEUERZEUGE
in meinen ersten zwei tagen in lhasa
kaufte ich zwei feuerzeuge
eines mit robben
eines mit messi
beide nutzlos
ausser atem
auf der hochebene
auf dem dach der welt
sogar feuerzeuge
werden höhenkrank
sogar fußballstars
geht hier das feuer aus
aber am dritten tag
waren wir im potala
und darunter
auf dem rückweg
in einem kleinen laden
kaufte ich ein feuerzeug
das funktionierte einwandfrei
auf ihm war ein
lebender buddha
There were demonstrations in Vienna yesterday. I went during the day, but in the evening I was too tired. It was important in the evening, of course. They let far-right organizations march through the city, canvass at universities and so on, aggressively protected by police. Anti-fascist protesters have a hard stand. Police brutality is fatal sometimes. A young subway sprayer was beaten into a coma by Wiener Linien public transport security and police in early April, and has not woken up since then. In the evening of June 3rd, the East Asian Studies department at Vienna university held an open discussion. The most interesting thing was three young female students who had interviewed Fang Zheng 方政 via Skype. He was that athlete whose legs were severed by a tank when he helped a female student get out of the way in the morning of June 4th, 1989. He became a disabled athlete and set records. But they were always worried he would get too much publicity, so he was barred from some international events. He kept quiet during the Olympics in 2008, so that he would get his passport and could leave in 2009. Lives in San Francisco, chairs an exile organization there. That presentation was great. The North Korea specialist made some interesting remarks, and in the end a Chinese professor finally made a brief personal statement. Vienna University vice president Prof. Weigelin-Schwiedrzik asked the students present what they would have done, if they would have stayed on the square under the threat of martial law. It is a romantic question – the protests in 1989 are always romanticized, as if it had been one great student party. Students took the lead, but the most important thing about any nationwide protest is popular participation, workers and many common people, not elites. Same with Taiwan’s recent Sunflower Movement. Anyway, I raised my hand and said I could not know what I would have done. Several people said so. I said I was in Taiwan in 1989, they also had demonstrations, with different aims. The February 28th, 1947 massacre in Taiwan had not yet been acknowledged. What I should have said when I raised my hand was that everyone present should think about taking part in the anti-fascist protests the next day in Vienna, on June 4th, 2014.
du you think you are an existentialist?
do you think you like to eat zha jiang mian?
do you think you are collecting antiques?
do you think you are following fashion?
do you think you have improved since you started?
do you think you have fulfilled your ideals?
do you think you’re a patriot?
do you think you love the truth?
do you think you dare to say it?
do you think you don’t fear retribution?
do you think you’re a good writer?
do you think you’re a poet?
do you think you’re a good mother?
do you think you’re a good father?
do you think you have loved?
do you think you are moral?
do you think microblogging makes China improve?
question mark mark mark
do you think they are prophets?
do you think you’re a groupie?
do you think there are things you don’t talk about?
do you think there are people you cannot offend?
do you think this novel is your autobiography?
do you think you have talent?
do you think your stuff is going to last?
do you think you have secrets?
do you think you have a big heart?
do you think you are fair to everyone?
do you think you’re responsible?
do you think you play by the rules?
do you think you have nothing to be ashamed of?
do you think you are self-important?
do you think you want revenge?
do you think you are scared of dying?
do you think you make people like you?
do you think you make people hate you?
do you think you have a future?
do you think you are falling behind?
do you think you are lonely?
do you think you are writing a poem?
this girl makes you crazy
let her go on babbling
asking herself
Tr. MW, June 2014
Chun Sue DREAMING OF LIVING INSIDE A DREAM
Tr. MW, June 2014
Published in EPIPHANY magazine, fall 2014. Go on, look for this great Chinese Dream! I spent October 2014 at Vermont Studio Center with Yi Sha, editor of the daily New Century Poetry series 新世纪诗典. Chun Sue is one of the most well-known figures within this huge independent circle of poets.
Chun Sue MORNING, AVENUE OF ETERNAL PEACE
Little Brother says: dad, Avenue of Eternal Peace
take a good look
This is the road you walked for over 20 years
I am sitting with Papa and Little Brother
I am almost crying
Finally I know
why I like the Avenue of Eternal Peace
Slowly the car passes the Military Museum
and the red walls of Zhongnanhai
and Xinhua Gate
Papa is small now he fits in an ash box
sitting between us
doesn’t take up much space
We pass the Gate of Heavenly Peace
and I see him
He stands on the square
watching us while we’re passing
Why was it so hard to write about you
You’re the son of a peasant
I was born in a village
I am also the child of a peasant
I put on army songs for you all night
Crying my heart out —
I like all that too.
just a bit of relaxing
just a bit of the sun
gleaming on every spire
just a bit of the world
settling down for the evening
and the birds sing for springtime
just like they did when I was a kid
although everything’s new
all the shiny new buildings
in this new part of town
though we’re close to the center
you can see every ridge
it’s a beautiful city
beethoven walked here,
and schubert and brahms
and vivaldi was buried
unmarked, just like mozart
it’s a beautiful evening
of a beautiful sunday
they had eu elections
there is hope for the future
this city is fortunate
this city was worse
the worst on the planet
they voted for hitler
and killed all the jews
and then it was bombed
and then our parents
came here and we grew
and moved elsewhere and now
we are here in this building
in this town on this world.
the city is growing
it is still rather small
it was big and growing
in 1914
now we have the eu
there is privatization and deprivation
all over the continent
still it is springtime
let us build something new.
MW May 25, 2014
Picture by Juliane AdlerTrain station in Liesing, Vienna
Li Yan EIN HEISERES LACHEN VON UNTEN VORM HAUS – EINE ÜBUNG FÜR EIN GEHÖR
ein heiseres lachen von unten vorm haus ich habe den menschen noch nie so laut lachen gehört, ungehemmt, rasend ein ausgelassenes, schallendes den brustkorb sprengendes lachen ein gekonntes lachen aber auch kein verdrehtes, gewundenes, aufgesetztes, verstelltes lachen kein freches grinsen keine gackernde lache es ist ein freudiges lachen, ein gründliches lachen aber kein herzliches lachen es ist ein heiseres, trockenes lachen, aus verrosteter kehle – ein knapp bemessenes lachen ein lachen wo der rost abgeschabt ist der rost lacht hervor eine rostige kehle lacht direkt heraus eine ganz ausgedrückte zahnpastatube lacht aus dem hals
Hung Hung
MARTIAL LAW ERA – AFTER HEARING THAT SUN YAT-SEN’S STATUE AT THNG TEK-CHIONG PARK IN TAINAN HAD BEEN TORN DOWN
all those bronze statues
are busy at night
patrolling the streets
lest people get drunk and say the wrong thing or kiss in the alleys
or play mahjong at home
statues will check at the newspaper press
is there a piece on the chief like last year?
is there a space for respect at the top?
has someone scribbled in the blank spot?
bronze statues are busy
they are scared of too many things
scared stamps could bear other portraits
scared streets and squares, schools, libraries
would all change their names
no more school kids saluting
no more chatting with sparrows
scared that one day
there’d be a rope
to pull them down
“mama, why is the statue green in the face?”
“no finger-pointing, your fingers fall off!”
“mama, the statue hides for a smoke at the fire brigade!”
“he just takes a break, he got burned in the sun every day.”
those statues have long forgotten the killings
of another generation
forgotten how they are still being used
they only remember the heat of the forge
it was hard to bear
and once you cool down, then come the years
standing empty and cold
Written on the eve of Febr. 28th, 2014,
67 years after the Febr. 28th, 1947 massacre.
Tr. MW, May 2014
I was very astonished when I first saw the picture. It does look like violence, the statue is smeared red. The poem is a revelation. Why would people have something against Sun Yat-sen? Nice guy, compared to what came later. Late retribution, for the killing of Thng Tek-Chiong, governor of Tainan in 1947, one of the first dead in the February 28 massacre? Sun Yat-sen is rather far from home in Tainan, far from his home base. I remember that small park near the train station in Taipei, where Sun Yat-sen lived when he visited Taiwan, it was a Japanese hotel back then. Small garden, very peaceful. A little forlorn and frail among the hustle and bustle around Taipei train station. Why would anyone be angry at a statue of Sun Yat-sen? In 2011 and early 2012, there were many conferences around the world in memory of the 1911 辛亥革命. People talked about many interesting things, but something like this? Without this poem, I would never have thought people would think that way about these statues. Not that much. So many killings back then, so much White Terror in decades, and no retribution. And the KMT still in power. There is repressed violence in people’s hearts, and everybody can count there lucky stars if they take it out only on statues.
Taiwan is a very peaceful and safe place, all in all. One-party dictatorship does create a sense of security for some, at least in retrospect. The world gets more complicated in those new-fangled pluralist societies. So there are people who blame the subway knife attack of a deranged student on May 21 on the student-led protests in March and early April this year. In Austria, the shameless tabloid that is much bigger than Murdoch and Berlusconi in their countries, still says things like all demonstrations and protest are leftist, and cost a lot of public money. When there are anti-foreigner rightists marching in Vienna, and the police need to protect them, it is not their fault, right? And if they want to have a ball in the emperor’s palace and parade on the square where Hitler proclaimed the Anschluss in 1938, it is their right and they should be protected, and if the whole city center is full of police barricades, it is the fault of those leftists.
It’s the other way around! In a more open society, there is much less repressed violence. Look at the recent bloody clashes and attacks in many cities in China. That won’t get less, probably. Taiwan people should be very proud of that big, peaceful demonstration on March 30. Their country has become a much better place through the changes of the last 25 years. The KMT could and should be proud of that, too. But they are the 中國國民黨, so they have to think about stability in a much bigger way, don’t they?
maybe you also still love me
when the last skylark returns
your darkening hours
are reflecting mine
— remember when I used to follow you
walking from south to north?
your light may be weak
but you grant me freedom. I am an apple
ripening
growing sweeter by the rain
today is september 28
my daughter is on a plane coming to see me in beijing
actually I wanted to see her and lured her with beijing
I arrive at the airport one hour early
I am even thinking if I arrive an hour before
I can see her that much earlier
so many airplanes coming and going
for me it’s like every one carries my daughter
every plane on the sky roars like my daughter when she is running
the plane has come down from the sky
my daughter is coming out
we are looking at each other, without speaking. a little shy.
my daughter has grown very tall.
I hug her, she says: “mama, I’m heavy,
you better not pick me up”.
she says: “mama, I have to pee”,
while I am holding her and she is peeing she says:
“mama, I will pee on you!”
we are in the airport toilet.
I am still holding her wishing she’d pee on me
like that little shaft running out of her, she could not hold it while I changed her diapers.
Tr. MW, May 2014
An Qi
HOW CAN A SPIRIT-TREE FALL ASLEEP PEACEFULLY AMONG THE FEAR
Sweet dreams, my dear
I try to soothe you after the rage
Lightly, lightly patting your branches
Making you deep blue clothes out of warmth
So you fall asleep safe and sound in the night of the spirits
If you are afraid
I will enter deep into your fears and stir the water
I am good at that game
I’m very good at telling myself the second I close my eyes
The world is at peace.
Tr. MW, May 2014
An Qi
AT DU FU’S “STRAW COTTAGE” IN CHENGDU
slender and thin
emaciated. that must be the image
it goes without saying
the sorrowful poet
the nation, the people, they all make him worry
more fat is forbidden
and laughter’s forbidden
so the dufu you’re seeing
(the dufu that’s everywhere)
bronze dufu
stone dufu
clay dufu
paper dufu
the same slender stature
of misery
as if he’d been born like that
I am thinking
the artist must have been frightened stupid
by the dufu inside his mind
a bunch of poets
on a big bus
arrive at a station
getting off
I take Ms. Xiang Lianzi’s trunk by mistake
pulling her pink
draw-bar trolley
what a show-off
coming through
Great Peace alley
where I lived when I was small
looking behind me
all the poets are gone
a young Uighur guy
is dragging by baggage
— no, Ms. Xiang Lianzi’s
draw-bar trunk, running like mad
April 2014
Tr. MW, May 2014
DREAM #396
father picks out
books from my school bag
points at a novel by one female author
growling:
“your teacher said you read books under your bench
now I see this is pornography
are you not ashamed?”
(this scene really happened
when I was young)
“You should be ashamed!
your whole generation
should all be ashamed!”
one rousing reply
then I turn around
and laugh at the sky
while I walk out the door
(this scene never happened
in my whole life)
April 2014
Tr. MW, May 2014
DREAM #398
Zhuang Sheng stands there
in jeans shorts
doesn’t do anything
he just stands there
there is joy in my heart
because I remember
though this is a dream
he told me on Weibo
he hoped one day
he could appear in my dreams
the ones I write down
a series of poems
now it has happened
April 2014
Tr. MW, May 2014
DREAM #401
I grab an old friend
by the throat
and push him
to the edge of a pit
snarling at him:
“I can throw you down
then bury you alive
do you believe me?”
“I … believe ….”
he stutters at me
I release him
April 2014
Tr. MW, May 2014
DREAM #402
I receive
miraculous news
Malaysian Airlines flight MH370
the plane has been found
in a picture by Li Yi
DREAM #403
In a lush
botanical garden
there is Yu Youyou
she is like Afanti
in those Nasreddin Afanti stories
she says: “I am Shen Haobo’s sister”
I say: “I know who you are”
she says: “stretch out your hands”
so I stretch out my hands
she says: “now step forward and grasp that plant”
so I step forward and grasp that plant
she says: “close your eyes. when you open your eyes
you have grown together with that plant”
I close my eyes
after a long while I open them —
no-one is there
no botanical garden
only city streets in the dusk
someone playing a violin
April 2014
Tr. MW, May 2014
DREAM #404
I am with a gang
we are robbing a store
a bookstore
the others are at the cash register
counting banknotes
I am at the book racks
counting the books
At the height of summer, Olympics in Spain
Crazed citizens, day & night watching TV
Disgusting extremes, disturbing my dreams
I’d rather stay calm, you could say
I would not be in spasms
I prefer gentle exertions
Instead of tiring yourself spitting blood
Like some kind of monster. I hate repetition.
I don’t want to watch people shouting exulted
Like raging idiots, lunatic movements
Nazis, Cultural Revolution
Although I’m yearning for the old Greeks
Natural people, clear autumn skies
Beautiful bodies, running in freedom
Nothing like that today I’m afraid
I don’t yearn for the strong, for the muscled
For the nimble champions
No, to be strong and mighty means in my language
You could be frail and weak in your body
But if you are like Hu Shi, Zhou Zuoren
You are a hero, a really great person
Go to sleep, my compatriots
Or is the national anthem your opium?
After they win three hundred gold medals
You are an invalid just like before
Go cook yourself a mung bean soup
To clear your senses
At the height of summer, Lanzhou is not too bad
Ignore the papers, no idle talking
Crickets at noon, frogs in the night
With time for reading, and a good sleep
Is Zhang Ziyi beautiful or not?
Some people say she’s beautiful,
some say she isn’t.
Liu Ping in our office
says she is not beautiful.
But Zhang Yimou says she is.
Ang Lee says she is.
Jackie Chan says she is.
Wong Kar-wai says she is.
Henry Fok’s son says she is beautiful.
Steven Spielberg says she is beautiful.
Now even Feng Xiaogang also says she is beautiful.
Then after all is Zhang Ziyi beautiful or not?
In my opinion
Zhang Ziyi is more beautiful than Zhang Yimou
and Ang Lee
and Jackie Chan
and Wong Kar-wai,
more beautiful than Henry Fok’s son,
more beautiful than Spielberg,
even more beautiful than Feng Xiaogang.
But she is not
as beautiful as Liu Ping in our office.
under the system
you learn to compromise
anyone
the system
is a huge condom
never let no-one pierce it
you might get pregnant
being pregnant
means all sorts of things
you could get aborted
you could be induced
and end up dead
compromise
the english word
you make a promise
a common promise
collective promise
“tuŏxié” in mandarin
“xié” like in “xiéshāng”
negotiation
“tuŏ” like in “tuŏdang”
suitably done