Hung Hung FLÜCHTIGE VERBRECHER
– Demonstration in Hongkong am 12. 6. 2019 gegen Auslieferung nach China
Zehntausende, wie können Gassen leer bleiben.
Die Gassen sind auch gedrängt voll.
Eine Million auf der Straße,
eine Million Wohnungen bleiben allein,
Schreie von draußen hallen darin,
wirbeln ein bisschen Staub auf.
Betten, die Nacht um Nacht müde Körper stützen
Aufgeschlagene, plötzlich verlassene Bücher
Im Eck noch einzelne, verlorene Socken
Regenschirme, von Stürmen zerbeult
Fragen sich
wo sind ihre Herren und Frauen geblieben?
Wo treiben sie sich herum?
Sind sie geflohen?
Aus der Kulturrevolution nach 1989 geflohen
Vom großen Platz auf die einsame Insel
Von einem WeChat-Konto zu einem Gesicht
Dann ist nur noch das Meer.
Wohin willst du fliehen?
Eine Million Menschen,
sind sie alle Verbrecher?
Abgesehen von ihnen, noch eine Million und noch eine Million
sind sie alle Verbrecher?
Die ihre Geschäfte, ihre Unis und Schulen, ihren Flugplatz verlassen,
und jene, die mit Gewehren und Schilden einer Million gegenüberstehen,
sind sie alle Verbrecher?
Wer hält sie mit Gewehren auf?
Jesus auf der Flucht
Allah auf der Flucht
Propheten schaffen die Flucht nicht
und werden zurück geschickt in die Kerker
Gläubige schaffen die Flucht nicht
und werden zerschnipselt im Operationssaal
Und dann noch die Vorsichtigen, die sich in ihrer Arbeit vergraben,
wie lange können sie fliehen?
Wer hat die Macht, sie zu begnadigen
für welche Verbrechen?
Wer gibt ihnen ihre Zimmer mit ein bisschen aufgewirbeltem Staub,
wer gibt ihnen ihre offenen Bücher zurück?
Und das Bett, das noch schaukelt?
Hung Hung DIE WELT IST NICHT EINGESTÜRZT – ZUR ERINNERUNG AN DIE ERSTE “GENOSS*INNEN”-EHE IN TAIWAN AM 24.5.2019
Als ein Motorrad sich in ein Elektrofahrrad verliebt hat
Als ein Riesenrad sich verliebt hat in ein Ringelspiel
Als ein Neonlicht sich verliebt hat in einen Regenbogen
Da ist die Welt nicht eingestürzt. Sondern schöner geworden.
Wenn deine Einsamkeit meine Einsamkeit tröstet
Wenn deine Zufriedenheit meine perfekt macht
Und deine Punktezahl mit meiner zusammen ergibt eine Hochzeitsreise zum Mars
Dann stürzt die Welt nicht ein. Sondern wird schöner.
Umarmt euch weiter, verachtet die Welt
Steigt gemeinsam und versinkt zusammen
Nehmt verlassene Kinder auf. Wir waren auch welche.
Wenn du eine Mandarine schälst, hat sie viele Spalten.
Aber ich will auf jeden Fall deine andere Hälfte sein.
Und die Welt stürzt nicht ein. Sondern wird schöner.
for thirty years
every single year
spring days waning
cicadas come calling
that one day
people there
come out in the streets
light candles for us
observe our memory
grieve
for us
they do not forget
the only city on earth
2019.6.13
Translated by MW, 6/15/19
“I don’t dare to share this poem in my WeChat groups. Unfortunately, most people in mainland China have no idea at all what happens abroad. They don’t know anything. Least of all that Hong Kong is a very special city with a great heart full of love and freedom. And for us Chinese people, that single one city on earth is slowly disappearing.”
you don’t have to take part
of course you don’t dare since long ago
you don’t have to support it
of course you don’t dare either
but please don’t deride
please keep some respect
for the last bit of good
in your fearful heart
long tamed into submission
please don’t hang your head from far away
don’t say with a sigh
“what use is this?
this is no use.”
even if you have been steeped in desperation
you should know
this is not a question of useful or not.
June 2019, shared on WeChat
Translated by MW, June 2019
Shen Haobo OHNE TITEL
Du musst ja nicht mitmachen.
Natürlich traust du dich längst nicht mehr.
Du musst es auch nicht unterstützen.
Natürlich traust du dich auch nicht.
Aber lach es nicht aus.
Bitte bewahr deine Achtung
vor dem letzten Rest an etwas Gutem
in deinem verschreckten
längst schon folgsamen Herzen.
Und lass noch weniger von sehr weit weg
den Kopf hängen mit einem traurigen Seufzer:
“Was nützt das?
Das nützt nichts!”
Auch wenn dein Herz schon lang in Verzweiflung badet
solltest du wissen
es ist nicht die Frage obs nützt oder nicht.
allen ginsberg recites all naked gets himself famous
bukowski doesn’t care
drinks & writes drinks & writes drinks & writes fucks when it’s time
gary snyder takes to the mountains becomes a hermit gets famous too
bukowski doesn’t care
drinks & writes drinks & writes drinks & writes fucks when it’s time
robert frost recites at kennedy’s inauguration
bukowski doesn’t care
drinks & writes drinks & writes drinks & writes fucks when it’s time
sartre refuses his nobel & calls bukowski “america’s best poet”
bukowski doesn’t care
drinks & writes drinks & writes drinks & writes fucks when it’s time
camus accepts his nobel & calls bukowski “greatest writer of the us”
bukowski doesn’t care
drinks & writes drinks & writes drinks & writes fucks when it’s time
someone calls him a second shakespeare someone calls him new hemingway
he doesn’t care
drinks & writes drinks & writes drinks & writes fucks when it’s time
sylvia plath does away with herself
bukowski doesn’t care
drinks & writes drinks & writes drinks & writes fucks when it’s time
anne sexton offs herself too
bukowski doesn’t care
drinks & writes drinks & writes drinks & writes fucks when it’s time
robert bly holds recitals & marches against vietnam war & it’s a big deal
bukowski doesn’t care
drinks & writes drinks & writes drinks & writes fucks when it’s time
czesław miłosz from poland lives in america & receives a nobel
bukowski doesn’t care
drinks & writes drinks & writes drinks & writes fucks when it’s time
joseph brodsky from soviet russia becomes american receives a nobel
bukowski doesn’t care
drinks & writes drinks & writes drinks & writes fucks when it’s time
his poetry sells better than ginsberg’s #1 in his country
bukowski doesn’t care
drinks & writes drinks & writes drinks & writes fucks when it’s time
one after one the elite of the era become bukowski fans
bukowski doesn’t care
drinks & writes writes & drinks fucks when it’s time
john ashberry flits like a butterfly between universities & poetry festivals
bukowski doesn’t care
drinks & writes drinks & writes drinks & writes fucks in time
doesn’t care doesn’t care doesn’t care doesn’t care
drinks & writes drinks & writes drinks & writes drinks & writes
fucks in time till he can’t anymore
alive in time croaks when it’s time
When I am old,
don’t have too much to say anymore,
I’ll be quiet and remember
my ordinary life
I couldn’t escape.
No too many things to keep in mind,
my whole life
I just wrote a few poems.
I will think of
these moments when it happened,
not the final results,
the hour when something came down from heaven.
2000
Translated by MW, November 2018
Yi Sha WENN ICH ALT BIN
wenn ich alt bin
nicht mehr zu viel zu sagen hab
werd ich mich still erinnern
das ganze gewöhnliche leben
dem ich nicht entkommen bin
ich werd nicht an sehr viele sachen denken
mein ganzes leben
hab ich nur ein paar gedichte geschrieben
was mir einfallen wird
sind die momente wo es passiert ist
nicht die resultate
die stunde wenn etwas vom himmel herunterkommt
Poets
with not one famous poem
can point their finger
when and wherever at any poet
who holds a whole bunch.
“He has not one good thing,
all he writes is garbage!”
This is
a most familiar sight.
But if you say
this is fair,
there is justice-
Yi Sha NPC-ATLAS
– als Vorwort für den Sammelband des 7. Jahres
Nach der Mittagszeit
am Bahnhof in Osaka
in einem Cafe
trink ich Kaffee
und denk an die Frage
ob in unserer Neuen Poesie aus China
Gedichte über Japan drin sind
oder in Japan entstandene.
Bei den ersteren fällt mir Zhu Jian ein,
bei den letzteren Su Liming.
Dann denk ich wie die heutigen Dichter
in NPC ihre Welt beschreiben
und vor meinen Augen entsteht
ein Weltreich der Poesie.
auf einem lastwagen in laos
frag ich zhang xiaoyun den laienbruder
hinayana und mahayana-buddhismus
was ist der unterschied
bruder zhang sagt langsam im südlichen ton:
“großes fahrzeug ist ein großer bus
kleines fahrzeug ist eigener wagen”
ich hab verstanden!
“hinayana ist selber schreiben,
mahayana ist NPC machen …”
“genau!” sagt bruder zhang,
aber 900 buddhas
wieviele busse braucht man da
denk ich im stillen
NEUE LYRIK,
übersetzt und vorgetragen von Martin Wnter.
Yi Sha 伊沙 aus Xi’an 西安 stellt seit 2011 jeden Tag ein Gedicht in chinesischen sozialen Medien vor. Jetzt sind es über 900 Autorinnen und Autoren mit über 2500 Gedichten. Die Initiative heißt auf Chinesisch 新世纪诗典, auf Englisch New Century Poetry Canon, abgekürzt NPC. “NPC” wird sonst für National People’s Congress verwendet, den Nationalen Volkskongress, die parlamentarische Versammlung in Peking, die jeden März zusammentritt. Yi Sha streicht die Abkürzung hervor, weil er stolz ist auf diese breite und dadurch relativ demokratische Versammlung der Poesie aus allen Teilen des Landes. Und das völlig abseits der offiziellen Strukturen wie Schriftstellerverband etc. Berühmte Namen sind vertreten, aber vor allem ist es eine Plattform für vielartige und immer wieder erstaunliche Entdeckungen. Viele dieser Texte werden schon am ersten Tag 10.000 Mal oder noch öfter angeklickt. Später werden sie in Büchern gesammelt, sieben Bände sind schon erschienen. NPC ist mit zahlreichen Aktivitäten in ganz China und darüber hinaus verbunden. Im Herbst erscheint bei fabrik.transit in Wien eine zweisprachige NPC-Anthologie. Am 24. Mai 2018 werden im Literaturhaus Wien bei der Präsentation des China-Schwerpunkts der Zeitschrift Podium AutorInnen vorgestellt, die in der Anthologie vertreten sind.
In München brachten wir neue Lyrik dieser Dichterinnen und Dichter: Chun Sue 春树, Li Xiaoxi 李小溪, Wang Qingrang 王清让, Jun Er 君儿. Und natürlich Yi Sha 伊沙. Dazu noch Liu Xia 劉霞.
Chun Sue 椿樹 AUFGEREIHT
am nachmittag ist mir fad
endlich les ich das buch
das mir vor einem jahr
jemand aus freundschaft geschenkt hat
ich les alle gedichte
traurig sein und betrübt
kommen ein paarmal vor
sex auch nicht wenig
große namen sind hasenlöcher
in der wildnis so häufig
ich les sogar meinen eigenen namen
und den von jemandem
mit dem ich früher beisammen war
das kommt davon dass wir alle dichter sind,
ai!
Übersetzt von MW im April 2017
Chun Sue, geb. 1983 in Beijing, stammt aus Shandong. Nach dem Welterfolg ihres Romans “Beijing Doll” war sie auf dem Cover von Time Magazine. Lebt mit Mann und Kind in Berlin.
In der letzten Nacht in Pjöngjang,
nach dem Abendessen und nach dem Schwimmen,
hab ich ein Rendez-vous
mit einem Burschen aus Hangzhou von unserer Gruppe.
Wir schleichen uns hinaus zum Mondspaziergang,
auf der Brücke
sind wir grad zwei Sekunden,
dann kommen schon Lichter
von Taschenlampen
von weitem. Und Rufe,
vielleicht Parolen zur Warnung.
Wir sind erschreckt
und drehen gleich um.
Ich sag beim Gehen,
mir ist kalt.
Er zieht seine Jacke aus, legt sie mir um.
Unter den prächtigen Säulen
des Kinos von Pjöngjang
umarmen wir uns,
immer noch aufgeregt.
Er sagt, schläfst du mit mir?
Ich lass die Leute in unserem Zimmer
andere Betten finden.
Das ist wirklich romantisch.
Ich sag, bist du lebensmüde?
Was glaubst du, wer ich bin?
Ringsum ist alles finster
Niemand sieht dieses Pärchen.
Nur das große Yanggakdo-Hotel
ist noch hell.
Im Schwimmbecken sind lauter Roboter
Im Kinderbecken auch
Schwimmlehrer sind ebenfalls Roboter
Die anderen bemerken dass ich nicht wie sie bin
Die Lehrerin schickt mich ins Roboterkrankenhaus
Wenn sie nicht aufpassen
renn ich nachhaus
mal mit bunten Stiften ein Bild
mal sie alle hinein
Mal mich selbst auch als Roboter
2015-07-02
Übersetzt von MW im April 2018
Li Xiaoxi (Shanghai), weibl, geb. am 28.7.2008.
机器人游泳池
李小溪（上海）
我去游泳的时候
机器人看着我
游泳池里全是机器人
儿童池里也是机器人
教练也是机器人
人家看我跟他们不一样
教练让我去机器人医院看看
我趁他们不注意
就跑回家
用彩笔画了一幅画
把他们都画下来
把自己也画成了机器人
Wang Qingrang 王清让 1960
Vater hat
zwei Maisdiebe erwischt.
Ein junges Paar, sie knien am Boden:
“Wir haben wirklich keine Wahl!
Das Kind schreit vor Hunger die ganze Nacht,
wir haben kein Körnchen Essen daheim …“
Vater winkt ab,
er lässt sie gehen.
Plötzlich fällt ihm etwas ein,
er ruft sie zurück.
Hebt ein paar Maiskolben auf,
drückt sie in ihre Hände.
Übersetzt von Martin Winter im Februar 2017
Wang Qingrang. Männl., geboren im August 1976. Wohnt in Xinxiang, Provinz Henan.
Als ich 14 bin in der Mittelschule,
schickt Mutter Vater, um mich abzuholen.
Er bringt mich direkt in die Dorf-Strickfabrik.
Sie geben mir ein Versprechen,
schafft meine große Schwester es nicht auf die Uni,
kommt sie statt mir in die Fabrik
und ich darf wieder in die Schule gehen.
Das heißt nur eine von uns zwei Schwestern
darf weiter lernen.
Das Schicksal benachteiligt meine Schwester,
um ein paar Punkte verfehlt sie die Uni.
Ich schaff es bis nach Jinan in Shandong.
Die Schwester arbeitet, heiratet,
hat eine Fehlgeburt, bringt sich um
mit einem Pflanzenschutzmittel.
Am Esstisch spricht Mutter zum x-ten Mal von der Vergangenheit.
Sie sagt, ihr habt es noch nicht so schwer,
wers schwer gehabt hat ist schon längst Asche und Rauch.
Übersetzt von MW, 2015-2018
Jun Er, geb. 1968 im Dorf Yunjiazhuang im Kreis Baochi unter der Stadt Tianjin. Reporterin. Mitarbeit bei der Poesiezeitschrift Kui (Sonnenblume). Lebt in Tianjin.
《针织厂》
上到初中二年级的时候
母亲派父亲去乡中接我
直接把我拉到村办针织厂上班
答应我的一个条件是
如果姐姐考不上大学
由她顶替我到工厂上班而我
可以继续上学
也就是说我们姐妹只能有一个
可以读书
命运薄待了姐姐却厚待了我
姐姐几分之差落榜而我重回校门
以后是我赴山东济南读书
姐姐上班，结婚
孩子死胎，她死于农药中毒
自己对自己下手
饭桌上第N次提起往事
觉悟了的母亲说你们还不是最惨的
是啊最惨的早已灰飞烟灭
Photo by Liu Xia
Liu Xia 刘霞 POMELO
ich halt eine pomelo in meiner hand
eine goldgelbe große
mit ihrem leicht bitteren duft
ein kleines messer ist schon genug
obwohl die haut recht dick gewirkt hat
ein wortloser schmerz
ich fang an zu zittern
ein leben in dem du keinen schmerz spürst
ein obst das niemand herunter nimmt
wartet nur aufs verfaulen
ich will wirklich gern die pomelo sein
geschnitten werden oder gebissen
besser im schmerz
in ruhe sterben
als im eigenen faulenden körper
die maden wimmeln sehen
einen ganzen winter
mach ich dieselbe sache
schneid eine pomelo nach der anderen auf
und hol mir nahrung aus ihrem tod
13. September 1999
Übersetzt von MW im März 2018
Liu Xia ist Malerin, Dichterin und Fotografin. Sie war mit dem Friedensnobelpreisträger Liu Xiaobo verheiratet. Geb. 1. April 1961 in Peking. Ehepartner: Liu Xiaobo (verh. 1996–2017) Geschwister: Liu Tong, Liu Hui (Wikipedia)
Xichang, Internationale Woche der Poesie.
Im Zhaojue-Center
hält Qinglang Lihan
eine programmatische Rede
über Anna Achmatowas
bitteres Schicksal.
Ihr erster Ehemann
Nikolai Gumiljow
wird wegen “Konterrevolution”
erschossen.
Gleich nachher springt
ein Mittelschüler
aus dem Volk der Yi
in moderner Kleidung
auf die Bühne.
In verzerrter Haltung,
mit zornig aufgerissenen Augen
gibt er spuckend von sich:
“Ihr Hundefurz-Poeten,
könnt keinen Stift gerade halten,
vor dem Elend der Leute
verlangt ihr keine Gerechtigkeit!
Dann kommt ihr in die Provinz
und redet von Konterrevolution …”
Wir sind alle baff,
völlig ratlos.
Nachher
fährt unser Bus
durch die Kleinstadt davon,
und ich seh den Schüler
allein auf der Straße,
immer noch zornig
gehen und schnauben.
Wie eine einsame
wandelnde Bombe.
wenn du eine reise tust
konzentrier dich
und alle sachen
werden dich tragen
bevor ich nach laos fahr
ein video: elefantengrenzübertritt
an der grenze china-laos
eine kamera wacht in der nacht
vor mitternacht
überschreitet eine elefantin die schranken
von china nach laos
frisst sich in laos den bauch rund
nach mitternacht
kehrt sie zurück
glaubst du liebt sie ihr vaterland?
dann gib ihr bürgerschaft und einen pass
eigentlich
kann man nicht einmal sagen sie liebt ihr zuhause
sie geht aus ihrem schlafzimmer
in ihre küche
auf einen snack
dann geht sie zurück und schläft sich aus
wir waren wirklich sehr viele
in scharen sind sie
in die u-bahn gegangen
am parlament
und der heldenplatz
war auch noch voll
stundenlang stehen
am westbahnhof
oder irgendwie ausruhen
bis etwas weitergeht
außer du bist ganz vorn
die mariahilferstraße runter
also die ganze strecke
von westbahnhof bis heldenplatz
war gleichzeitig demo
es war wirklich so schön
wie 2015 anfang oktober
damals hätte noch alles
gut werden können
jetzt haben wir
wenigstens einen präsidenten
der zu flüchtlingen hält
obwohl er lächelnd
nazifreunde anlobt
es war winter
es hat geregnet
am ende war ich schon ziemlich nass
aber die u-bahn war ja nicht weit
und wir waren wirklich sehr viele
Das ist kein gutes Wetter,
sag ich unter der prallen Sonne
zu mir selbst.
Ich steh hinter dir,
geb dir einen Klaps auf den Hinterkopf.
Deine Haare stechen mich in die Hand,
das ist mir neu.
Ich komm nicht dazu, dir noch ein Wort zu sagen,
du bist in den Nachrichten.
Ich schau zu dir auf mit allen Leuten
und werd immer müder.
Ich muss mich verstecken hinter den Massen,
ein bisschen rauchen
und in den Himmel schauen.
Vielleicht wird gerade ein Mythos geboren,
aber die Sonne scheint mir in die Augen,
ich kann ihn nicht sehen.
irgendjemand hat den zettel
mit den öffnungszeiten
der wahlkartenbehörde
runtergenommen
das bezirksamt stellt wahlkarten aus
heute freitag noch
vielleicht bis 2
am sonntag ist wahl
den zettel im lift
tief drinnen im haus
vielleicht wars der wind
wenigstens war er 2 wochen dort
MW Dezember 2016
Ich war bei der Demo gegen Abschiebungen am Samstag, dem 26. November 2016. Mit meinen Kindern. Eine solche Demo war nötig, finde ich. Wäre schon lange nötig gewesen. Hätte besser und breiter unterstützt gehört. Ob der Zeitpunkt des ersten Adventsamstags und die Route durch die Mariahilferstraße falsch waren, weiß ich nicht. Wichtiger wäre gewesen, überhaupt eine große Demo zu machen. Überhaupt ein großes Zeichen zu setzen. Ein Lichtermeer vielleicht. Hauptsächlich gefehlt hat eine breite Unterstützung, das Mitmachen vieler verschiedener Organisationen und Personen, die mit Flüchtlingshilfe zu tun haben. Weiß nicht, wer schuld war oder nicht. Jedenfalls war die Stimmung insgesamt nicht so gut wie bei anderen Demos, größeren und kleineren, bei denen es um Ähnliches ging. Leider. Aber wir, die dabei waren, und jene, die trotz allem versucht haben, eine möglichst große Demo zu machen, hatten recht. Ein Zeichen setzen gegen Abschiebungen bestens integrierter Menschen, die schon gut Deutsch können, in die Schule gehen etc. Gegen Abschiebungen von Menschen, die genau dafür qualifiziert wären, die besten Österreicher zu werden, die sich alle nur wünschen können, die guten Willens sind. Wir hatten recht. Jede und jeder hat recht, der oder die darauf hinweist. Christian Kern sollte es tun. Michael Häupl. Alle, die für Alexander Van der Bellen sind. Also auch Vranitzky, Busek und so weiter. Alle, die guten Willens sind. Dann hätten wir einen Cordon Sanitaire, wie in Frankreich. Am Ende hätten wir dann eine deutliche Mehrheit gegen jene, die diesen Staat und dieses Land bedrohen. Viellicht würden das sogar Niessl, Schüssel und Pröll einsehen. Wenn jemand Asyl verdient und bereits in Österreich integriert ist, warum soll er oder sie nach Kroatien? Was genau geschieht mit den Kindern, Jugendlichen, Frauen und Männern, die abgeschoben worden sind? Warum steht das nicht in Dem Standard? Geschweige denn in anderen aktuellen Medien, abgesehen vielleicht von der Wiener Zeitung? Oder habe ich es nur nicht bemerkt? Steht es vielleicht in der Tiroler Tageszeitung, hört es jemand auf Radio Stephansdom? Jedenfalls glaube ich trotz allem, wir hatten recht, zu demonstrieren. Und viele haben versäumt, mehr gemeinsam zu tun. Ich auch, wahrscheinlich.
Halloween in Budapest
Do you need to call out the ghosts?
Do you need to call out the ghosts?
In Parliament
Brightly lit along the Danube
Do you need to call out the ghosts?
In Vienna
In Budapest
In many cities
Many, many towns
thousands of towns
thousands of thousands
brightly lit along the Danube
Dohany Synagogue
Greatest in Europe
Status Quo Synagogue
By Otto Wagner
On Rumbach Street
Actually many buildings are left
All over Europe
Yes, there are Jews
In Budapest
Yes, there are people
Do we need to call out the ghosts?
Everyone knows
Along the Danube
Behind the Parliament
Greatest in Europe?
It’s very big
Behind the Parliament
Along the Danube
They lined them up
Several places
Along the Danube
Just a few months
Hungarian Fascists
Finally able
1944
Fall ’44
German troops everywhere
Last few months of the war
Until the first month of ’45
Here in this city
Everyone knows
Hungarian Fascists
Established the ghetto
They passed laws against Jews
In Parliament
In 1920
Basically everyone knows
1944
Hundreds of thousands
in a few months
Around 600,000
Killed in Auschwitz
Along the Danube
Behind the Parliament
Several places
Szabadsag ter
On Freedom Square
There’s a new monument
For the victims
It says
German occupation
Doesn’t say that in German
Doesn’t say that in English
Any other language
For the victims
Only these words
Even in Hebrew
Only the victims
Victims of German occupation
Written in Hungarian
Only in Hungarian
Erected in secret
Protests from the beginning
Pebbles, chairs,
a few wires, photos
pebbles with names
and so on
Everyone knows
Over 300 Million
Hungarian money
Erected in secret
Law passed in Parliament
December 31st, 2013
Protests from the beginning
Szabadsag ter
Liberty Square
Halloween in Budapest
Do you need to call out the ghosts?
There are people enough
In Budapest
In many cities
Many, many cities
Towns and cities
All over Europe
Brightly lit along the Danube
Everyone knows
Actually many buildings are left
All over Europe
Halloween in Budapest
Do we need to call out the ghosts?
Everyone knows
Halloween is for kids
We have kids in Vienna
Kids like to dress up
For Halloween
Let them have fun
Nothing wrong
Halloween
My daughter knows
Austrian Fascists
Ghosts are alive
Zombies are real
Wish it was all
Pumpkins for kids
Halloween in Budapest
Greatest town
Along the Danube
Since Roman times
Basically
Everyone knows
angst und schrecken
ist eine partei
ihr führer heißt
angst und schrecken
die partei verbreitet
angst und schrecken
das war nicht immer so
aber heute ist die partei
angst und schrecken
manche finden das gut
sie nennen sich
protestwähler
MW April 2016
TERROR AND FEAR
strache means
terror and fear
terror and fear
is a party in austria
this party spreads fear
some people like that
they call themselves
protest voters
they know they are spreading fear
April 15, 2016 in Vienna. #Schutzbefohlene *
Spring is a wonderful season,
trees spilling their green.
Some are cut, some are planted.
Downstairs across they are planting a park,
used to be train tracks.
Last year we had refugees at the station.
Spring is a wonderful season.
They said it was 90,000 people or so
in all of Austria,
mostly in a few months,
who wanted to stay in this country.
Ten times more went on to Germany.
So many people wanted to help.
Train workers, even police.
Volunteers, often more than enough.
We live in the neighbourhood.
My daughter Maia went down to play with the refugee children.
After a while she knew the volunteers.
It was safe.
The refugees staid down by the station.
Some people from our house took in refugees.
There was discussion to use the shop,
the empty shop downstairs in this new house,
for refugee quarters.
Just for the winter.
That shop has bathrooms and everything.
But then they closed down at the station.
It was in December.
They took them with buses, they said, from the border.
On to Germany.
If you said you wanted Germany, they let you in.
They were building a fence.
So in December, the station was empty.
Maybe Mid-December.
No quarters in our house.
But people still coming in.
Coming up through the Balkans, used to be Yugoslavia.
In early January we played Tarot down in the library.
We have a library in our house.
And we play cards, for a few pennies.
On Friday nights.
We have had readings, and even theatre.
Gudrun and Peter, they built a stage.
Downstairs in the big common room.
We had a night reciting Bob Dylan.
Down you masters of war.
But then in January, there was Cologne.
In Cologne at the train station, on New Year’s Night.
Hundreds of women harassed.
Raped, one or two.
Many foreign men there at the train station.
Not enough police, or police doing nothing.
We should discuss this, one of us said.
We had been playing cards.
What is there to discuss, there ‘s not much in the news.
Maybe social networks did play a role.
I want to discuss this.
These refugees becoming a problem.
What is there to discuss, there’s not much in the news.
These refugees becoming a problem.
A discussion is stupid, without any facts.
So one of us went away in a huff.
Later I was away, I was in China.
In southern China, a poetry trip.
From southern China to Southeast Asia.
Self-organized.
The year before they went to Vietnam.
Wrote some good poetry.
Vietnam wars in the background,
including China attacking Vietnam.
And other stuff, daily life.
Morning routine.
This year I went with them through Southeast Asia.
Poets from all over China. 16 or 17.
One or two guides.
Guides of Chinese extraction.
Thailand, Singapore. And Malaysia.
Then back to Nanning, to southern China.
Poetry meetings, almost every night.
Sometimes more.
One time in the airport.
Plane was delayed, nothing better to do, call a poetry meeting.
Poems written there on the road.
Yi Sha has this dream, before every border.
Dreaming they won’t let him through.
Normally he writes down all his dreams.
Makes for good poetry.
But not this time, he was afraid.
Only when we were safe in Malaysia.
They had a crackdown, in Kuala Lumpur.
There was an attack in Indonesia.
Muslim majority in Malaysia, too.
If the father is Muslim, the child has to be Muslim.
Not Chinese or anything else.
It was not like this before.
At least according to our guide.
They have elections and a Sultan.
Or they call him a King, at least in Chinese.
It’s a beautiful country.
Tribes in the woods.
Our guide lived with a tribe for a week.
For a project at university.
She was very young, has a small child.
She speaks Fukien Chinese.
Mandarin with the tourists, of course.
Liked to talk about sex.
Malaysian men with many wives.
Just a few Muslims, who can afford it.
On February first, I came back to Austria.
Refugees still coming, though not so many.
News had been shifting.
Creating a climate against refugees.
We put a limit on loving our neighbours.
That was a poster.
The foreign minister, he’s very young.
The interior ministress.
She’s not there any more now, she’ll become governess.
Governor of Lower Austria.
And the candidate.
Their candidate for Federal President.
President is just a figurehead here.
Like in Germany.
In Germany, he is elected in parliament.
So he is from the majority party.
He or she.
In Austria, everyone votes for the President.
Everyone should.
Everyone is automatically registered, every citizen.
Nowadays you can vote in advance.
Local district office.
Ballot per mail, or there at the office.
That guy for limits on loving your neighbour won’t make it.
He’s trailing far behind in the polls.
But his policies are federal policy.
They let that happen, the Social Democrats.
They are the majority.
But they let it happen, they are just like the rightists.
News had been shifting.
These refugees becoming a problem.
Some Social Democrats work with the Rightists.
Those other Rightists.
That Freedom Party.
Some Neo-Nazis.
Some Neo-Nazis cling to this party.
Some were just Liberals.
In the 1980s they were for joining the European Community.
Anyway now they are shameless Rightists.
Austria should not be ashamed, they proclaim.
Including old Nazis, including SS.
And Social Democrats think they should work with them.
But they are trailing, the Social Democrats.
Maybe their candidate will fall behind,
though not as far as the one with the limits.
They are far behind, both of them.
Three candidates are in front.
Front-runner is from the Green Party.
They always were for refugees.
And there is a woman.
Not from a party.
A former judge.
Liberal views, for the economy.
Definitely not from the Left.
Those two were leading.
But Freedom Party candidate is closing up.
No, he doesn’t say we are all Germans.
Though he says many things.
Austrians first, don’t be ashamed.
Don’t be ashamed of anything.
Works better than just talk about limits.
So I’ve voted already, ten days in advance.
I’m afraid.
That Freedom guy is worse than Trump.
Similar causes why they are so popular.
Austria is very small.
President is just a figurehead.
But I’m afraid.
Austria becomes Hungary.
Headline in Switzerland, two days ago.
Rightist government, fences.
Italy protesting, not only Greece.
Against Austria, in the EU.
EU has been weak.
Rightist reactions in Eastern Europe.
Rightist rhetoric against refugees.
From Social Democrats, some of them.
EU is weak, was very weak in the Yugoslav wars.
Mid-April sun is shining outside.
Spring is a beautiful season,
trees spilling their green.
Some are cut, some are planted.
Downstairs across they are planting a park.
Martin Winter
April 15, 2016
*Schutzbefohlene means people placed under protection. It is the title of a play by Elfriede Jelinek, the Austrian author who won the Nobel prize for literature in 2004. She wrote the play in 2013. It was performed, by refugees, at University of Vienna on April 14, 2016, when a group of rightists stormed the stage. They sprayed red paint and reportedly injured performers, including children. I wrote the long poem above on Friday morning, April 15. I had not been at the performance and knew nothing about the incident before my text was finished. But I think my text works as background reading, at least.
wieviele sind es jetzt jeden tag?
ich will informationen
keine politiker
anfang jänner haben noch tausend
oder paar tausend die grenze erreicht
das war damals in kärnten.
die meisten wollen nach deutschland
manche bleiben
deutschland hat in einem halben jahr
eine million aufgenommen
hört man jedenfalls immer.
schweden auch ziemlich viel.
manche wollen nach finnland
zu jemandem von ihrer familie.
jetzt reden fast jeden tag die politiker.
wie soll man begrenzen?
wie sorgt man dafür dass nicht alle bleiben?
wie kann man möglichst einfach zurückschicken?
in welches land ist nicht so wichtig.
fast niemand hat jemals gefragt
warum deutschland und österreich?
was haben deutschland und österreich
denn gemacht im letzten krieg?
und was ist mit ungarn und tschechien und so weiter?
unsere eu hat sie auch aufgenommen
das ist gut für deutschland
für große konzerne
vielleicht gibt es nachteile.
vielleicht sagen manche
die haben unsere wirtschaft geschluckt
sollen die drüben sich darum kümmern.
wieviele sind es jetzt jeden tag?
ich war in einer funktion hier
als demonstrant
und als konzertgeher
am tag der befreiung
dürfen die rechten
nicht mehr marschieren
am abend spielen symphoniker
noch nicht so lang
unfertig, verloren
vom heldenplatz sieht man den flakturm.
so endet simon winders danubia
das beste buch über europa
und über österreich
sie wollten ihn kleiden
ein flakturm in italienischem marmor
weiß nicht ob das stimmt. aus dem inneren tor
bevor du hinauskommst, siehst du den turm
wenn du aufblickst, vielleicht auf dem fahrrad. jedenfalls auf der straße.
nicht wenn du auf dem platz bist. war winder auf dem balkon?
er hat leider recht. am turm erkennt man uns.
ebenso hässlich wie mao in peking
hoch auf dem turm hoch über dem platz.
nur viel viel schlimmer.
hässlich ist alles was toleriert wird
oder nur übersehen
obwohl es terror repräsentiert.
der platz ist ok. kinder spielen.
der platz ist verloren. wie tiananmen.
ball der verbindungen. rechte studenten.
gebt ihnen allen ganz schnelle wagen. einsame landstraßen.
die polizei darf alles absperren. die ganze innenstadt.
jedenfalls wo protestiert werden könnte.
einkesseln. jagen. mitnehmen. anklagen.
landfriedensbruch. auch wenn li peng kommt.
kroch hitler aus den ruinen von habsburg?
welche ruinen? besuchszeiten sind
alles ist wunderbar renoviert
das völkerkundemuseum
heißt jetzt irgendwie anders. etwas von welt.
der glanze heldenplatz zirka.
Hung Hung I HAVE DIED BEFORE – REMEMBER LIN KUAN-HUA!
I have died before
when I was five I stretched my head out of a speeding train
the train from the other direction rushed on
I pulled back in that moment
and hit my dad who woke up and grumbled
didn’t know his son had died in that second
I have died before
gave up everything for my lover
she gave up on me
on a tall bridge at night
I saw myself sinking
without a trace
I have died before
burning myself, crashing against the government palace
assassinating them in my head
again and again
death attracts me so much
the biggest fear can overcome any injustice
but I am still alive
half awake, half asleep
until another young life
goes out in my face
maybe this is me
one thousand unwilling Is
they make a choice
no choice in that moment
the moment you don’t pull back
has decided
he lives in another world
we have to die here
come on, you can do it
come up from the water, take a good breath
before we die once again
we are going to swim further on
Hung Hung ICH BIN SCHON FRÜHER GESTORBEN
– LIN KUANHUA GEWIDMET
Ich bin schon früher gestorben
streck mit fünf meinen Kopf aus dem Schnellzug
als der Zug aus der anderen Richtung heranrast
in dem Augenblick zieh ich den Kopf zurück
stoß an meinen schlafenden Vater der brummt und schimpft
er weiß nicht dass sein Sohn in dem Moment schon gestorben war
Ich bin schon früher gestorben
geb alles auf für meine Geliebte
dann gibt sie mich auf
in der Nacht hoch auf der Brücke
seh ich mich sinken
und nie wieder auftauchen ‧
Ich bin schon früher gestorben
Selbstverbrennung, knallen in den Palast
Morde planen, zumindest im Kopf
immer wieder
der Tod zieht mich an
mit der größten Angst besiegt man leicht
alle Ungerechtigkeit auf der Welt ‧
aber ich bin noch am Leben
noch halb wach halb im Schlaf
bis ein weiteres junges Leben
vor mir erlischt
vielleicht bin das ich
eintausend unwillige Ichs
treffen die Wahl
es gibt keine Wahl in diesem Moment
in diesem Moment in dem du nicht zurückziehst
ist es entschieden
er lebt in einer anderen Welt
wir müssen hier sterben
komm schon, du kannst es
komm hoch aus dem Wasser, hol tief Luft
wir schwimmen weiter
bevor wir noch sterben
Geschrieben am 31. Juli 2015, nach dem Suizid von Lin Kuan-hua am 30. Juli, seinem 20. Geburtstag. [Lin Kuan-hua protestierte gegen die Revision der Geschichtsbücher in Taiwan und wurde vom Erziehungsministerium unter Druck gesetzt. Anm. d. Übers.]
sie huschen wie wandelnde seelen am bahnhof
an der maschine in der industriezone im schmutzigen mietquartier
ihre gestalten sind dünn wie messer, weisses papier,
haarsträhnen, luft. mit ihren fingern schneiden sie
eisen. filme. plastik … müde und taub sind sie
wandelnde seelen verpackt in maschinen
arbeitskleidung fließband ihre blitzenden augen
jugendlich huschen sie in ihrem
graudunklen strom ich kann sie nicht unterscheiden
steh ich unter ihnen sind wir auch nicht unterscheidbar
hautsäcke glieder bewegungen unbestimmte blicke lauter
unschuldige gesichter ständig werden sie aufgestellt organisiert
strukturiert ameisenvolk der elektronik bienen der spielzeugfabrik
sie lächeln stehen rennen bücken krümmen sich
werden verkürzt ein paar hände schenkel
sie werden festgedrehte schrauben abgetrennte metallflächen
gepresstes plastik gebogenes aluminium geschnittener stoff
ihr enttäuschter zufriedener erschöpfter glücklicher
aufgelöster hilfloser einsamer … ausdruck
sie kommen aus dörfern weilern gruppen ihre
intelligenten ungeschickten zaghaften feigen …
heute knien sie vor all den hohen hellblitzenden fenstern und türen
wachleute in schwarz glänzende autos grüne mandarinenbäumchen
das goldene fabriksschild gleißt in der sonne
sie knien vor dem fabrikstor halten ein stück karton
mit ungelenker schrift “gebt uns mit schweiß und blut verdientes geld”
furchtlos knien sie zu viert vor dem fabrikstor
die leute um sie herum vor ein paar tagen ihre kolleginnen
aus denselben dörfern freundinnen chefinnen mitarbeiterinnen
ausdruckslos betrachten sie diese vier arbeiterinnen
schauen zu wie die vier kolleginnen von wachleuten weggeschleift werden
wie eine einen schuh verliert wie einer anderen
die hose aufreißt schweigend schauen sie zu wie die
vier knienden arbeiterinnen weggebracht werden in ihren augen
steht weder freude noch leid … ausdruckslos gehen sie in die fabrik
ihr unglück macht mich traurig niedergeschlagen was soll ich sagen
2012
Übersetzt von MW, 2015
Photos and video recording: Beate Maria Wörz
郑小琼
《跪着的讨薪者》
她们如同幽灵闪过 在车站
在机台 在工业区 在肮脏的出租房
她们薄薄的身体 像刀片 像白纸
像发丝 像空气 她们用手指切过
铁 胶片 塑料 … … 她们疲倦而麻木
幽灵一样的神色 她们被装进机台
工衣 流水线 她们鲜亮的眼神
青春的年龄 她们闪进由自己构成的
幽暗的潮流中 我无法再分辨她们
就像我站在他们之中无法分辨 剩下皮囊
肢体 动作 面目模糊 一张张
无辜的脸孔 她们被不停地组合 排列
构成电子厂的蚁穴 玩具厂的蜂窝 她们
笑着 站着 跑着 弯曲着 卷缩着
她们被简化成为一双手指 大腿
她们成为被拧紧的螺丝 被切割的铁片
被压缩的塑料 被弯曲的铝线 被剪裁的布匹
她们失意的 得意的 疲惫的 幸福的
散乱的 无助的 孤独的 。。。表情
她们来自村 屯 坳 组 她们聪明的
笨拙的 她们胆怯的 懦弱的 。。。
如今 她们跪着 对面是高大明亮的玻璃门窗
黑色制服的保安 锃亮的车辆 绿色的年桔
金灿灿的厂名招牌在阳光下散发着光亮
她们跪在厂门口 举着一块硬纸牌
上面笨拙地写着 “给我血汗钱”
她们四个毫无惧色地跪在工厂门口
她们周围是一群观众 数天前 她们是老乡
工友 朋友 或者上下工位的同事
她们面无表情地看着四个跪下的女工
她们目睹四个工友被保安拖走 她们目睹
一个女工的鞋子掉了 她们目睹另一个女工
挣扎时裤子破了 她们沉默地看着
下跪的四个女工被拖到远方 她们眼神里
没有悲伤 没有喜悦 。。。 她们目无表情地走进厂房
她们深深的不幸让我悲伤或者沮丧
Zheng Xiaoqiong
KNEELING, DEMANDING THEIR WAGES
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 they enter the factory
their tragedy leaving me sad or depressed
This is a very good article. One of the few very inspiring responses to these horrible attacks in Paris. I was involved in another response – I translated a text by Liao Yiwu 廖亦武, a Chinese writer in exile in Germany. I put it in a blog post here some two weeks ago, along with words by “Charb” from Charlie Hebdo and others. Liao Yiwu’s text first appeared in German in the Neue Zürcher Zeitung. It is also available in English, on the website of the German Book Trade Organization. This response should equally be read by as many people as possible! Thank you very much, Soh Wee Ling! I went demonstrating in Vienna on January 11, and again on Friday, January 30, when the xenophobe Neo-Nazis had their ball in the historic halls of the Hofburg in Vienna, overlooking the Heldenplatz where Hitler spoke to eradicate Austria in 1938, cheered by thousands. We were around 5000-6000 at least all over the centre of Vienna, although the police had cordoned off a large area and many people had been arrested and criminalized last year. No windows broken this time, and hardly anyone injured. Some people always get angry, and there are Neo-Nazi sympathizers in the police and in parliament. And they have been tolerated and cosseted, and they were in government 2000-2006. Recently an editor of the newspaper Der Standard, which has been very much against the fascists, has actually suggested that the Social Democrats should consider working with the F-Party. In Germany, their slogans would not be allowed, and some of their leaders would be in prison. On the other hand, we have a cherished tradition of fierce satire in Austria. I read an article by the Jewish French-German writer Gina Lustiger, published in Die Welt. She also said, just like you Soh Wee Ling, that the Charlie Hebdo cartoons were aimed at the average French citizens, including the cartoonists themselves. She said she missed them very much, missed their incisive humour. And she emphasized that unless the French Jewish victims were equally respected, even if their relatives had them buried abroad, people had not understood what this was about. Unless you can imagine Charlie as a Turkish woman in a head scarf at a funeral in Jerusalem, she said. Thank you very much again!
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
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
李勤岸Li Khin-huann
Translated by Tiunn Boo-thinn 譯 …
We planted sunflowers at Parliament
To bring some sunshine inside
To bring all that mold to light
To bring the people’s rights to light
We planted sunflowers on the president’s lawn
To throw the floodgates wide open
And flood away the steel webs of a dictator
And let the young whales of democracy swim on, and on and on
We planted sunflowers in the streets
To bloom come rain and bloom come wind
To bloom for always and for all days
By the darkening roads we must yet take
We’re planting flowers in every alley and every valley
In the cities and in the country
In the mountains and by the sea
The sun will still flower
May the will of young hearts
Rise up high in our free skies
阮種日頭花
–《人面冊ê花蕊》264
李勤岸
Li Khin-huann
WE PLANT A SUNFLOWER
we plant a sunflower in parliament
to draw in the sun
stir up the poor state of our congress
stir it up for the rights of our people
we plant a sunflower in the president’s palace
to call a young sea spirit of Taiwan democracy
to stir up a flood
to sweep away the iron nets of dictatorship
we plant a sunflower on every street
to brave wind and rain
to stir and bloom
to shine a light on our dark road ahead
we plant a sunflower on every corner
in the village in the city
on the mountains at the sea
to stir and bloom
our spirit of youth
will brighten our homeland and our skies
imagine many years later
can we still watch japanese cartoons
imagine letters we might receive
maybe with contents crossed out in red
imagine we could answer in peace
curious questions from our children
I will tell them about tonight
concise and in detail
so they can swiftly run to any crowded stage
I will tell them
peace is short-lived
struggle is constant
come on, go now
on this island
find your comrades
keep your loved ones
build your dream house
look for the nation of your ideals
raise all the flags
light every lamp
shout out your pursuits
warm winds will blow
coconuts sway
students, policemen sleeping together
rain will keep falling
till you wake up to a dry day
one huge silence
from teeming noise
in a cold front from the mainland
shrouding Taiwan
particulates off the charts
until one black flood
breaks worn embankments
one hard rain on the president’s palace
and the sky of tonight
and the road of tomorrow
are swept very clean
3/30/14
Tr. MW, 4/1/14
Mit “DIE GEWALT” von Erich Fried, übersetzt ins Chinesische von Hung Hung
Obama gave his yearly trade report, he wants to sell American pork to Taiwan. Obama is the first African American president. Black people are saved, pigs aren’t saved. Neither are cows. No matter how many hormones they feed them, all humanity has to eat your meat, and it has to be minced, so you don’t know which piece is an eye that saw the sky or a butt tired from needles. Nowadays no-one will eat black people. But there are people who want to swallow Ukrainians, Uighurs, Tibetans. They try out nuclear bombs at Lop Nor, they shoot a movie at Chernobyl, they build a nuclear power plant in Gongliao in Taiwan. Obama is happy to sell uranium for Taiwan nuclear power, I guess Americans like to eat up Taiwanese, barbecued by the torch of the Statue of Liberty. At the beginning of Kafka’s novel “America”, Lady Liberty’s torch is mistaken for a sword, piercing the suddenly brightening sky. Actually, isn’t it really a sword? Lady Liberty wielding the sword, cowering beauty beyond compare. America the beautiful. Beautiful cows, beautiful pigs, beautiful people. But definitions of beauty are changing. Beautiful Oscar movies, a junkie or a female star in a breakdown, garbage floating in space, we have to get membership, purchase tickets online, complete with Coke and popcorn (from genetically modified American corn), and put on our 3D glasses to see it all clearly.
Tr. MW, 4/1/14
What is Chinese literature about? Exile, inner exile. Inside China, banished. Happened to many poets through the ages, including the most famous. Or voluntary exile, to be somewhere else, not among the people. 别有天地非人間。Teaching Latin in a high school in Vienna, a friend of our uses Du Fu 杜甫. Du Fu, Brecht, Theodor Kramer, Guido Zernatto. She teaches Latin, so exile comes from Ovid. Epistulaes ex ponto. From Casablanca. No, it’s that port city on the Black Sea, in Romania. Constantza. Like Tristan Tzara. Z or S? Whatever. Du Fu. They use an old edition from the 1930s. Brought into verse by H. Not just translated, not directly. That’s how they used to do it. Gustav Mahler’s 馬勒 Song of the Earth 大地之歌 came from Li Bai 李白 (Li Tai-po), Wang Wei 王維 and Meng Haoran 孟浩然, through many versions in different languages in between. Mahler wrote the final versions to fit his music. Two poems by different poets merged into one, at the end. No, that Du Fu edition is very accurate, from the feel of it. Two great volumes, large and thick. Not rhymed. But rather formal. Not luosuo 羅嗦. No superfluos words. Hardly. Again, from the feel of it, I haven’t checked, just listened and read. Listened, our friends read well. Very down-to-earth, daily details. Ants, chicken. Fencing in chicken, thinking about it. A reference to the times, the circumstances. Suddenly becoming political, as our friend says. Towards the end. A moral at the end, maybe more in this German version than in Chinese. Circumstances, Du Fu’s circumstances. He always complains, says our friend. Very down-to-earth, very daily life. Strife, poverty, famine. Starving on the streets. We have a master’s thesis on Tang Poetry social critique in Vienna, from 1990. Anna Maria Eigner. Bai Juyi 白居易, many different poets. Li Shangyin 李商隐 wrote a lot about poverty in the countryside. Not in is most famous poems, unfortunately.
Daddy, who is this?
He is called Li Bifeng. I just translated a poem by him. He is in prison. They are all in prison. This one is a writer, too.
Why is he in prison?
He took part in protests, demonstrations. Demonstration, you remember what that is? Yes, we were in one together this year.
Where is this?
This is in China.
What else did he do?
He organized strikes. Do you know what strikes are?
No.
Strikes are when workers in a factory say they won’t work, all of them. To get better pay. To get insurance, you know what that is? When you are sick, to get money from insurance so you can get a doctor, go to hospital.
Daddy, are there any places with no government?
Good question. There are some places where women are in charge. They own the land, they run things. Used to. Sometimes still do. Places in China.
Well, they should. Women are important. Women bear children.
I don’t know if there are any places with no government. There are some places with not many people at all. Deserts, mountains.
he jumped from the top of the building
peng!
he was dead
it wasn’t like he had seen it
on tv
on tv
the contractor who owed migrant workers
when he heard someone would jump
right away he came out with his pay
but this time
no-one held him back
that’s how he died
peng!
Liao Yiwu reading his poem “The Massacre”, Meng Huang 孟煌 reading his “Letter to Liu Xiaobo in Prison” and Maria Rosén singing the Swedish folksong “Ballad from Roknäs”, 19th March 2013, 9 pm, Sergels Torg, Stockholm, Sweden
Click here for texts and lyrics in Chinese, and to access the FREE LI BIFENG 釋放李必丰 page：
Chat with an old friend in Beijing who works in Chinese media. Thursday, Feb. 28, 2013 7:50 am GMT
hello dear
bonjour. 早上好。
how are you ??
還可以
你好嗎？
空氣很臭嗎？
feeling nauseated, pollution is above maximum level again 855 right now
他們兩會喘氣一點也好
disgusting
+o(
you know the article i translated a few days ago to tackle the pollution? they want to forbid the barbecues !!
*^o)
like 羊肉串?
dui !!
太可笑
可悲
the state of the air is the state of the art of ruling the country. we had a guy from shanghai here at the university yesterday, there is a un conference on middle east in the city, and he is a chinese expert on jews in china and relations to middle east. very pragmatic, realist guy, sounds like some of his israeli friends. we don’t want another libya chaos, so we veto.
😐
but who are they defending in the security council? sudan was massacring their own people. China supports any regime that suppresses their own population by military means.
yeaah, so now it is too late for the international community to shine, and the ones who help in Syria are the radical islamist, Al qaida etc..
exactly.
when the war will be over, do we really want an other country ruled by Al Qaida, because china did not want chaos ? such short term vision lets not forget the dearest firend poutine such a nice guy to help his economy by boosting the weapons and jets industry
yes. the chinese love to cooperate on weapons with israel and do all sorts of research. he likes to talk about such things. but nobody asked tough questions. stephane hessel died two days ago in france, wasn’t it? the old guy who survived the nazis and inspired recent civil movements. it’s not easy. arab spring was risky. doesn’t look good now, on the whole.
yes, he passed away, just learned about it a few minutes ago, i just cried watching the news
every revolution takes time, the french one lasted more than 20 years to really settle down
the name arab spring comes from prague spring 1968. there are always risks with popular movements for democracy from the bottom up. participation, human rights, civil rights, civil society.
but the good thing in the chaos in egypt and algeria and tunisia, is that now, people know they can make a difference, and wont take bullshit and abuse like sheep
so, all those who just had personal ambitions are aware that they too can be put down by civilians if they don t act according with the will of the people.
yes. two and a half years ago it looked like mubarak and gaddafi etc. would rule forever.
it will take time, but in the end, we, the basic people all want the same: quiet, freedom, work, and education for the kids
it was more convenient for everybody to support the status quo.
for us, china, eu, diplomats….
you are right. to be left in peace by the government, to have basic rights and freedom, to have work, and education for the kids. in tibetan. in mongolian. in uighur. etc. not very difficult.
it’s very disgusting. the poem is from last october. it didn’t look as if she would get justice. remarkably well-written report in the newspaper when you follow the link., very detailed.
my chinese is too bad to understand the original text, but i will have some of my colleagues help me understand. I am getting ready for the NPA and CCPPC. 3 weeks with no day of for this occasion.
at austrian PEN-club they have a special activity Time To Say No. Started after Malala was shot in Pakistan. I am helping them with Chinese texts. http://www.penclub.at/
One Chinese writer who lives in Canada sent a much more horrible poem than Lily’s Story. Very good poem, too. Her name is Sheng Xue 盛雪. I can send it to you, if you like. Women’s day on March 8 is a good occasion to pay attention to the real world.
yes, please, it is always good to make people aware of these facts
too many people with power still think they can get away from their acts, thank god internet is there so nobody forgets
i can’t stand that these murderous pigs can get away with it !!
i am not for violence, but sometimes i think …
:@
please send it around, if you like.
i will
the english translation is not bad. but the original is even better.
or worse, of course.
i passed them around
what are your colleagues saying? Maybe they know some of the names in the poem by Sheng Xue. I didn’t know the names, but it sounds very real.
i did not hear anything from my colleagues
i guess many chinese just prefer to ignore that kind of things
like the ostrich digging its head in the sand
at least one or two of the names in the poem by Sheng Xue would get results even in English at Google or Baidu. Lily’s Story was reported in China. Even in newspapers, though not very big.
i think the more they hear about this kind of things, the more rebellious they will be towards those jerks
yes. but it isn’t big news every day. the pollution is. that’s the good thing about it. easy to say for me when I don’t smell it right now.
sie haben den baum vorm fenster gefällt
ich weiss nicht warum
er liegt noch herum
sie standen beisammen im hof und sprachen
von polizei und so sachen
ich fragte nicht nach
wir sind nachbarn im anderen haus
es geht uns nichts an
es war nur der baum
unlängst haben sie sträucher gerodet
da ist eine gesprungen
und eine weile liegengeblieben
hat man dann erfahren
sie haben den baum vorm fenster gefällt
es steht noch ein kleiner gestutzter
und bald kommt der efeu der wilde wein
und was rotes das klettert
und noch weisse sträucher
der baum war alt
er hat halt geblüht
von uns aus gesehen das schönste im hof
jetzt gibt es mehr licht
man sieht in der richtung die serbische kirche
und weniger nester vielleicht
《新诗典》以本诗为天下苍生祈福！ //@老纪微波:抄送@长安伊沙
Zhan Che Chanting sutras, blossoms opening
– stopping by the shrine of the Le Sheng Old People’s Home
[to be demolished]
100 year old banyan tree stretching its roots
sunlight in the wind tipping millions of leaves
some kind of music comes from these instruments
from strings and keys
from hairs and tongues
lepers kneeling before Buddha statues
wrists without hands
wrists that had knives tied to them for cutting vegetables
wrists, mallets tied to them beating wooden fish
– wooden fish swimming in sounds of bells
sounds of bells swimming in rain
those fish without noses
bats with no eyes
earthworms with no hands or feet
by the sound of those wooden fish
growing into whatever they planted
osmanthus smiles magnolia
scents through their four elements six roots of desire
through their five sensory organs in forms of flowers
scents drawing in sutra chanting
in the unseen world –
from their deformed hands feet noses lips
growing twigs and leaves
osmanthus blossoms magnolia smiles
smiling bodhisattvas
in scents of sandalwood and flowers
lighting lanters to walk through the night
but they will be banished by rigid laws
this cultural heritage for all mankind fits into
colonial history public health human rights
they are helpless in this official-commercial structure
but they will take to the streets kneeling and praying
with their deformed blood-swollen hands and feet
kneeling praying entreating towering authorities
bringing their muttering whispering groaning
flower scents and chanting sutras
drip into memory drop in the rain
Thank you, 20th century
We all grew up some time with you
I was born and grew up too
In your arms I feel at home
In your last year
You are generous
To set me free
One hundred years
Two world wars
Cold war east-west
Countless other wars and conflicts
I don’t have much experience
I carried my gun
Two years military service
Thank heavens
I stayed alive
One hundred years
One economic depression
America’s streets full of beggars
Some nations went hungry
Russia and China adopted
Communism
I have only shallow experience
When I was small
There was no rice
But there were dried sweet potatoes
Thank you
I didn’t stay hungry
Although malnourished
There was political tragedy
Military dictators
Even governing through terror
Countless people
Went to jail
Wailing was heard on
The earth’s every corner
I have limited experience
Held and carried
Flags and banners
Walked in streets
Of silent protests
There was art in various ways
Dadaists and surrealists
Stream of consciousness, expressionism
Existentialism, postmodernism
Baffling and shouting, collapsing
Suicide and going crazy
I don’t have much experience
Still at my desk
With simple words
Writing my poems
I went to Grandpa’s grave
One hundred years of graves and mounds
Thousands and millions
Buried simply
Left in the 20th century
Wrongs and grievances abroad
I don’t know much and beg your pardon
I went through this time
And stayed alive
20th century
I don’t count as your victim
Listen, century
I’m not qualified
To raise my voice
In blame
But begging your pardon
At night when the Milky Way blazes
Raising my head
I often think of
Flying away
Tr. Martin Winter, Jan. 2013
With help from Khinhuann Li 李勤岸
Daniele Kowalsky showed me a very interesting interview with Jonathan Campbell in the L.A. Review of Books. Jonathan Campbell talks with Jeffrey Wasserstrom about 盤古 Pangu，崔健 Cui Jian，無聊軍隊 Wuliao Jundui and other details of rock music and punk in China.
Unfortunately, I can’t agree with Jonathan that yaogun 摇滚 (Chinese rock music) could galvanize China like Pussy Riot seems to have galvanized opposition in Russia. Cui Jian 崔建 did have some very memorable moments, and people in China do remember them, and they will tell you readily about the parts before 1989, mostly. But those moments in 1989 were so painful in the end that no one knows if there will ever be a similar broad-based protest movement again. 1989 brought hope in Europe. Risk, very risky change, and some very ugly violence in Romania. But overall there was hope, and whatever came out of it, 1989 is generally remembered as a year of wonder. In China it’s a trauma. A wound that is usually covered up, but even China is very much connected to the world nowadays, and the world knows. And there are much deeper and older traumata, which can be accessed and shared via 1989. So in that way, there is hope. Connected to underground music. Like the kind that Liao Yiwu’s 廖亦武 music comes from.
There are parallels, certainly. Parallels between Pussy Riot and Ai Weiwei 艾未未, in the pornography. Parallels in the way of some Ai Weiwei news or other embarrassing news everyone gets to know about, and the dark stuff below. The disappearances, the longer ones, see Gao Zhisheng 高智晟. And the corpses. I learned about the late attorney Sergei Magnitsky via Pussy Riot. He died in jail in 2009, and among people concerned with Russia he is as famous as Gao is in and outside China, which means not so many people want to talk about him or even admit they’ve heard of cases like that. Of course, there are corpses under the carpets in every country. Only China is the oldest 5000 year old one, of course.
Aug. 22
2 years for singing in church. Perfectly absurd. Punk music, controversial art. Public space and religion. Russia, Africa, China. What is art? Depends where you are, what you are, who you are, who is with you. What you believe.
One week ago I read two books. A few months before I got to know a poet. Still haven’t seen her. A Jewish poet in Germany, soon to be teaching in Vienna. Esther Dischereit.
Last month I finally got around to pick up a book that contains many poems I translated. Freedom of writing. Writers in prison. A beautiful anthology, edited by Helmuth Niederle, currently head of Austrian PEN.
Connections. Connected to China. Punk music isn’t all that subversive, not in a big way, usually. What if musicians insult the government on stage. Well, I’ve been to about 300 concerts in China, said Yan Jun. Sometimes someone was screaming something in that direction. But they aren’t big stars. They can be ignored.
Christa Wolf. Stadt der Engel. The Overcoat of Dr. Freud. Long and convoluted. Gems in there. How she was loyal to the Party in 1953. And insisted on protest against Party policy. How and what they hoped in 1989. How and what Germany was and is.
Aug. 21
2 years for singing in church. And many more arrested. It does sound more like China than Russia, doesn’t it? The case of Li Wangyang李旺陽 （李汪洋） comes to mind. Li Wangyang died around June 4th 2012 in police care after being released from over 20 years of jail. He was a labor activist in the 1989 protests that ended with the massacre on June 4th in Beijing. Li Wangyang supposedly killed himself, but the police report was disputed in China and in Hong Kong, where tens of thousands of people protested. Li’s relatives and friends are still being persecuted. One has been formally arrested and accused of revealing state secrets, because he photographed Li’s body.
Parallels between Russia and China were drawn in media comments after the verdict in Moscow. One comment wondered whether Russia is trying to emulate China, where the word civil society is banned on the Internet. China has had economic success for decades. People put up with authoritarian one-party rule there, the comment said. But it won’t work in Russia, because the economy depends on natural resources, not on industry. The comment contained the old misunderstanding that in China, government policy and enforced stability have caused economic success. Beijing wants the world to think that, of course. However, the prominent law and economy professors Qin Hui 秦暉 and He Weifang 賀衛方 have been saying for years that the economic miracle of the 1980s depended on a consensus to move away from the Cultural Revolution, as well as on investment from Taiwan, Hong Kong and overseas. After 1989, there has been no comparable social consensus. After 1989, the social drawbacks and the gap between rich and poor may have grown faster than the economy. But the middle class has also grown. Regional protests are frequent but limited. Or the other way ’round. The Internet remains vibrant. With Weibo microblogs inside the Great Firewall, and very much Chinese going on outside. Not because the government initiates it. They let it happen. The economy, the art, the internet. Even protests, when they are against Japan, and/or not too big. And they profit. The oligarchy is the Party.
Religion and more or less independent art have been growing in China, about as much as the social conflicts. Art brings huge profits, so they let it happen. In Russia, Pussy Riot have succeeded in connecting independent art, oppositional politics and religion in a highly visible way. Art, political activism and religion are voluble factors, so much that societies where everyday news has been fixated on finance for at least four years now could almost grow jealous.
Pussy Riot were not mentioned in our church on Sunday, as far as I could tell. I had to look after the children. But the preacher drew on her experiences from jail work. She championed the rights of refugees and was a prominent anti-governmental figure in Austria in the 1990s. Direct relevance for religion in Austrian politics is rare. We had Catholic Austro-Fascism in the 1930s, paving the way for Hitler. Some Protestant Nazis as well. After the Holocaust, religion in Austria has a somewhat undead quality. A bit like traditional opera in China, which is rallying, hopefully.
For international discussion about the relevance of underground art, music and religion, China has Liao Yiwu 廖亦武. And Russia has Pussy Riot.
Photo by Vincent Yu/AP
Aug. 17
Worldwide empathy for Pussy Riot is great. The trial in Moscow ends today, so I don’t know yet if three women have to remain in jail for years after singing in a church. There was a lot of worldwide attention last year as Ai Weiwei 艾未未 was abducted and detained by Chinese state security. He was released and voted most influential artist worldwide. I have seen graffiti in support of Pussy Riot here in Vienna in the last few days. One at newly renovated Geology Institute. Not very nice. And there was some kind of happening at the Vienna Russian Orthodox church, I heard. Church authorities not amused. Well, hopefully worldwide support can help enough this time. Quite recently, many political prisoners in China have been sentenced to more than 10 years. There was a lot of attention abroad in one case. And a Nobel.
Austria is a nice place, generally. Sometimes it’s uglier than Germany. Generally uglier, in terms of police abusing, even killing people, always getting away with it. Have been reading Vienna Review and Poetry Salzburg Review in the last few days. News and poetry. Many of our friends here in Vienna are not from Austria. Coming from abroad often provides a clearer perspective.
Aug. 14
Read two good books. Not in Chinese. Ok, in Chinese I’m reading poetry. And other books, not enough. Anyway. Cornelia Travnicek and Manfred Nowak. Both in German. Non-Fiction and Fiction. No connection. Like Liao Yiwu 廖亦武, Bei Ling 貝嶺 and that Berlin novel, what was it called? Plan D. Ok, there was a connection. Taipei Bookfair 台北國際書展. Ok or not, no connection. A novel. Punks in Austria. Young and female. Male protagonists dead or dying. Ok, not all of them. Anyway, good novel. Vienna, occupied, death, youth, love, society, 1980s, 1990s, 2000s. 2012 exhibition at Wien Museum. Empathy. And the other book? Torture. Human Rights, UN, Austria, torture in Austria (see this newspaper report, also in German), Moldavia, Equatorial-Guinea or how do you call that country, Uruguay and so on. Neglect. Conditions of/for empathy. Ok, so both books are about empathy. Good. And in German. Oh well, maybe some people who read this read German. Or they’ll get translated. The books, not you. Manfred Nowak’s books and other written sources are available in several other languages than German. You can get some very useful stuff in English for free here.
