At the beginning of the 1990s,
this town where I am
didn’t celebrate Christmas.
The college I teach at,
the foreign studies university, did.
Every class had their parties,
students and their foreign teachers.
Christmas carols in foreign languages,
wafting out from the classroom windows,
singing in harmony with the snowflakes,
whether it was snowing or not.
I stopped and listened,
feeling culture and beauty
closing the fresh wound in my heart.
Am Anfang der 1990er Jahre
hat die Stadt wo ich war
Weihnachten nicht gefeiert.
Die Uni wo ich unterrichtet hab,
eine Fremdsprachenhochschule, schon.
Parties in jedem Fach, jedem Jahrgang.
Studenten mit ausländischen Lehrkräften
singen in Fremdsprachen Weihnachtslieder.
Es weht aus den Fenstern des Lehrgebäudes,
klingt in Harmonie mit dem Schnee,
ob es schneit oder nicht.
Ich bleib stehen, hör zu,
spür Schönheit, Kultur,
das heilt meine frische Wunde im Herzen.
Übersetzt von MW am 24. 12. 2021
Merry Christmas! Click on the link to read more poems by different authors in Chinese.
Zwei Frauen gehen mit mir
zur Messe zur Kirche im Ort.
Der Chor hebt an,
wir stehen auf von der Bank,
halten uns an den Hand.
Die Frau links von mir,
ihr Mann leistet sich eine andere.
Die Frau rechts neben mir,
ihr Sohn hat Mittelmeeranämie.
Ich schreibe lyrische Gedichte
in Schwermut, denke an Selbstmord.
Gott in der Höhe
sieht uns ein bisschen zittern.
Die Mayflower hat keine
Freiheit des Glaubens gebracht.
Plündern und Totschießen
und der Erfolg war eine Nation.
Ich feiere in diesem Land
in diesem blühendsten
von Grund auf gottlosen
New York
die zehnte Christnacht.
Rockefeller Square,
unter dem weltgrößten Christbaum,
unzählige rote Weihnachtsmützen
treiben und schweben
wie wandelnde Seelen.
Übersetzt von Martin Winter im Oktober 2020
Hong Junzhi, geb. in den 1960er Jahren. Dichter und Übersetzer aus dem Chinesischen ins Koreanische, Verleger, Redakteur in New York. 《新诗典》小档案:洪君植,60后,汉韩双语诗人、翻译家、出版人,居纽约。有著作50余部,现美国《HPW国际诗坛》杂志主编,纽约新世纪出版社社长。
In the early 1990s
the city I live in
didn’t celebrate Christmas.
The college I teach at did,
a foreign languages campus.
It was more like each class had it’s own party,
students and their foreign teachers
singing foreign Christmas carols
into the air from the classroom building
and into the sky looking for snowflakes
to sing with in harmony.
I would stop and listen,
feeling the civilization and beauty
patching my still raw wounds inside.
The heartbreaking thing
about Star Wars
is when the rebels
have won
and survived
or at least most of them
or some of them
or at least some that you like
and you’re all happy
and you go home
and it really was a good ending
and you go to bed
and the next day
there is your life.
Has the universe changed
since the 1970s of our era?
Or since Jesus Christ
turned bread into fish?
Come on, give the Baby a break,
it is Christmas.
There will be life
and there will be movies.
There’ll be things to fight for,
and evil overlords.
And something beyond.
And some new toy
maybe made out of trash
will ask a companion
how am I alive –
and will hear –
I don’t know.
Are you from room service?
Translate into Spanish:
all-inclusive service,
gagged,
biting,
reading stories,
contemporary historical service,
service in the times of the cholera.
Voluntary,
involuntary man-service
in the name of the lord
of the manor
and the overlord
of the hotel chain
in the interests of
the all-Europe hotel
short story competition
and so on.
Make a story
out of who stayed
in Regensburg
before sunrise,
before sunset,
after Ethan Hawke,
what was the name of the bar,
something with Max.
Different city?
No, we’re not mad,
we’re very glad
we found this hotel
at the end of December.
The local paper says
these are six precious days
not including Christmas
to recuperate.
No tourists,
Merry-Turks- street,
what a wonderful place.
Pustet is a very good bookstore.
Better than some biggest book shops in bigger cities.
Churches are free,
just like the thousand year old bridge
with its museum. This used to be
one of two biggest cities in Germany.
They are building a synagogue.
A place of hope. End of a year.
Not a good one.
Re-education camps. War on terror, they say.
War on the people. Not a good story.
Are you from room service?
Please translate into Spanish
and Catalan:
Who translates into English?
Anyway, I write poems.
Some are good stories,
like Mosque And Casino.
I wrote it years ago in Chinese.
asinnliche zeit
bsinnliche zeit
csinnliche zeit
dsinnliche zeit
esinnliche zeit
fsinnliche zeit
gsinnliche zeit
hsinnliche zeit
isinnliche zeit
jsinnliche zeit
ksinnliche zeit
lsinnliche zeit
msinnliche zeit
nsinnliche zeit
osinnliche zeit
psinnliche zeit
qsinnliche zeit
rsinnliche zeit
ssinnliche zeit
tsinnliche zeit
usinnliche zeit
vsinnliche zeit
wsinnliche zeit
xsinnliche zeit
ysinnliche zeit
zsinnliche zeit
äsinnliche zeit
ösinnliche zeit
üsinnliche zeit
thursday morning. they take out the garbage.
they take out the garbage on thursday morning.
it’s not a holiday. not on paper.
i’ve wondered about this since i was small.
the biggest holiday of the year.
the biggest thing in the world for many shops
and many churches.
thursday morning. they take out the garbage.