Posts Tagged ‘sounds’

UMZUG IM REGEN – 寒雨 Han Yu

六月 27, 2020

Han Yu
IN DIESEM REGEN SOLL MAN NICHT UMZIEHEN

Im Süden der Stadt,
zwei weiße Schaumkugeln vom Isoliermaterial,
aus dem Dach herausgespült durch den Regen,
kleben an der großen Abtrennungs-Glasscheibe des Wächterhäuschens
der Wohnhausanlage.
An der Ausfahrt der Kellergarage
auf den nassen weißen Planen, die hat das Mädchen zurückgelassen,
die in der Früh umgezogen ist,
da liegen umgekehrt drei Kapokblüten,
heruntergeworfen im Regen seit gestern Nacht.
Genau wie blutrote Azaleen, ein Kuckuck der Blut spuckt.
In der leeren Garage
vibrieren und hallen immer noch
Schritte des Mädchens verwirrt hin und her.

7. Juni 2020
Übersetzt von MW im Juni 2020

Han Yu, geboren in den 1970er Jahren in Xi’am, Ingenieur bei einer staatlichen Firma in der Provinz Kanton (Guangdong). Liest und schreibt moderne Gedichte seit den 1990er Jahren. WeChat-Name: daritty 《新诗典》小档案:寒雨,70后,陕西西安人,国企工程师,旅居广东。90年代开始喜欢现代诗歌阅读和创作,偶有诗作在网络发表。微信号:darltty

 

ZURÜCKGENOMMENE GRATISSPENDE – 薛淡淡 Xue Dandan

六月 24, 2020

Xue Dandan
ZURÜCKGENOMMENE GRATISSPENDE

In der Schlafzimmerwand
ist ein Loch für die Klimananlage.
Letztes Jahr haben Spatzen darin ihr Nest gebaut.
Ihre ganze Familie
hat immer um fünf Uhr früh oder so
mit lautem Gezwitscher
unsere ganze Familie aufgeschreckt.
In diesem langen Virusfrühling,
nur daheim, nirgends hingehen,
hab ich jeden Tag gewartet
auf die verschiedenen hellen Stimmen
die aus den Wänden ertönen.
Aber bis jetzt
hab ich sie nicht wieder gehört.
Ich sag mir zum Trost,
die haben sicher
ein besseres Haus für sie gefunden.

30.3.2020
Übersetzt von MW im Juni 2020

 

MOSES – 胡泊 Hu Bo

六月 16, 2020

Hu Bo
MOSES

Early morning
in the horseshoe-shaped forest,
finally the flock flies in again.
They are in high spirits,
talking excitedly.
Walking quietly
up to the tree,
Moses,
where is he?
They tell me,
Moses has waded
through the Red Sea,
left Egypt already.
Tears flow
to the tip
of my nose.

3/23/20
Translated by MW, June 2020

Hu Bo
MOSES

In der Früh
im hufeisenförmigen Wald
kommt der Schwarm endlich geflogen.
Sie reden aufgeregt
und diskutieren.
Leise geh ich
bis vor den Baum.
Moses,
was ist mit ihm?
Sie sagen mir
Moses ist schon
durchs Rote Meer,
hat Ägypten verlassen.
Tränen
auf meiner
Nasenspitze.

23. März 2020
Übersetzt von MW, Juni 2020

Hu Bo, geboren am 19. Juni 1961 in Dalian, aufgewachsen in Tianjin. Lebt in Taida. Volksschüler im Fach Alltagssprache-Poesie seit Mai 1999.
《新诗典》小档案:胡泊, 1961年6月19日生于大连, 天津长大。有诗入选《新诗典》感谢伊沙, 感谢所有帮助我的诗人. 现居泰达, 我是口语诗中小学生从1999年5月开启

 

摩西

 

胡泊

 

清晨

馬蹄形樹林

飛來了久違的鳥群

他們興高采烈

談論著

靜靜地走到

樹前

摩西他

怎麼樣了

他們告訴我

摩西已經

涉過紅海

出了埃及

我的淚水

湧至

鼻尖

 

2020.3.23

 

 

LOCKDOWN APARTMENT – 里所 Li Suo

六月 9, 2020

Li Suo
LOCKDOWN APARTMENT

Alcohol disinfectant, 75%
Thermometer
Facemask hangs by the entrance, ready for re-use
Steamed bread, failed three times
Fresh flowers from Yunnan, bought online from Taobo
Cat hairs in the rug, always
Unwashed dishes, several days
50 installments of a trite soap opera
Uncontrolled feelings
Three o’clock in the morning, tears on my pillow
Six lamps turned on together
News of people who died
News of people waiting to die
News of people dying in vain
More and more in this apartment
A kind of gloom I never felt before
A heavy heart
A heavy heart like in Du Fu
(Ballad of Army Wagons)
Spring rain outside, unceasing cold
„Dark skies, rain wails and wails“
Layer on layer
They weigh on my chest.

3/22/20
Translated by MW, June 2020

 

ONE DAY IN L.A. – 从容

四月 19, 2020

Cong Rong
ONE DAY IN L.A.

Tofu, konjac, cauliflower
Whatever edible thing from the fridge
chuck it all in
into a hotpot,
tonight we are making sour soup fish,
every meal
like it’s our last supper.

Andy Warhol needs beauties
Edie needs the drug of love
I need to rip alive
an old yellow
onion peel
skinned, separated alive
from the next onion peel
no-one escapes separation
as we love one another through screens
wearing masks

Tonight
the cat bites off a prayer bead.
Master Chin Kung’s “Amitabha“
and Namie’s meows ring together in this apartment,
as if to say,
this cat must stumble, this cat becomes Buddha.

Translated by MW, April 2020

 

 

PHOENIX – 高歌

四月 17, 2020

Gao Ge
PHOENIX

It was winter,
snowing.
My dad
stood outside the wall
of the People’s Commune,
waiting for my mom.

Ding-ling-ling,
ding-ling-ling –
A Phoenix bicycle
rings loud and clear,
that isn’t her.

Ga-cha,
Ga-cha –
A scraping chain
against its cover,
another Phoenix,
not her.

Creaking and puffing,
creaking and puffing
white fog
on a Phoenix,
that is her.

At the table,
my dad speaks of this,
this moving love story.
My mum says –
No! Embarrassing!

Translated by MW, April 2020

 

 

ARRIVED IN VIENNA – 图雅

四月 11, 2020



Tu Ya
ARRIVED IN VIENNA

Crows are even fatter than pigeons,
babies cry
louder than church bells.
Can’t wring a drop
of milk from my breasts anymore.

1/18/20
Translated by MW, April 2020

 

 

20

一月 25, 2019

Photo by Liu Xia

 

20

20 years ago I wrote my first Chinese poem.
It was in Chongqing. “Wanbao, wanbao!”
That’s what they cry, all over China. Every afternoon.
“Evening news, evening news!”
Evening paper, every town has one.
Some have morning papers, those are called Zaobao,
most of them.
“Get your evening paper!”
Anyway, “wanbao, wanbao!”
could mean late retribution. Bào, what comes back, gets back,
a report. Wan, late. Zao, early.

“Wanbao, wanbao!”
Chongqing was the wartime capital.
Jiefang bei, liberation monument, is the city center.
It’s not from 1945 or 1949,
it’s from the 1930s or so.
Most people don’t know exactly.
Emancipation column. One of my students called it that.
Kang Di, think it was her.
Emancipation in German means women’s lib.
“Emanzipationssäule”.
I was teaching German.
Women’s Liberation Monument.
Women’s Rights Monument.
She didn’t know emancipation means many things.
Didn’t want to correct her.
Another essay was about marriage.
Were they really so conservative, our elders,
when they married a stranger,
when they slept with a stranger they had never seen before?
Good question.
Good essays, especially the girls, the young women.

“Wanbao, wanbao!”
In Beijing it sounded more like “wanbo!”, although Beijing supposedly
is where Mandarin comes from.
“Wanbao, wanbao!”
Chongqing is a hilly city. No bicycles. What did they do, back in the 1960s,
1970s, ’80s, when no-one had a car?
They had porters, for the steep slopes with the stairs,
I guess they’re still there.
“Bang-bang”, people for hire.
They bang on their tools, bang their tools together.
Bang-bang are men, but there are women porters.
Hong Ying’s mother carried sand, rocks and gravel.
Daughter of Hunger, her most famous book.
Daughter of the River in English, it was a bestseller.
Hungry Daughter, Ji’e de nü’er.
That’s right, they have a “ü”, just like in German,
and like in Turkish. Ürümqi, city in China,
nowadays governed like North Korea.
Many re-education camps. They had prisons in Chongqing,
Liao Yiwu was in there,
another famous writer from China.
Didn’t know him then. But Chongqing is about war and imprisonment.
Lieshimu, that’s the address
of our university. We taught German and English.
Two universities, one foreign languages,
the other law and police. Law and politics. Yes, they are not separated.

“Wanbao, wanbao!” No zaobao in Chongqing,
although I’m not sure now.
Lie-shi-mu, Martyr’s Grave.
Geleshan, Gele Mountain, right behind our college,
other side of the train tracks.
Someone was murdered there, some gambling debt.
Students died, one or two every few months.
Nice walks on Geleshan, very peaceful, really.
“Wanbao, wanbao!” Every city in China.
Nowadays people have cell phones,
but there are printed newspapers and magazines.
And printed books, there is no crisis.

“Wanbao, wanbao!” Late reports, late reports.
From the guns. Or whatever.
Karma. Shan means good, doing good.
A Buddhist word. Shan you shanbao,
doing good has good returns.
Wouldn’t that be nice?
But teachers believe it, teachers and parents,
again and again, otherwise you go crazy.

They went crazy too, war and famine,
all the way till 1961, ’62. When Hong Ying was born.
No, also 1969,
Cultural Revolution, like civil war.
Shan you shan-bao,
good deeds, good returns.
“Shan you shanbao, e you e-bao.”
E like in Urgh! Like something disgusting, that’s what it means.
Ur yow ur-pow, something like that. But more like b.
Eh yow e-bao. Yes, “e” like ur. “You” like yo-uw.
Shàn you shànbào, è you èbao.
Do good for good returns, do bad stuff for bad returns.
Not that it doesn’t come back, time isn’t ripe.
That’s how it goes on.

You throw the boomerang, boomerang doesn’t come back,
they tell you wait, it’ll come back.
Karma.
And so I wrote a Buddhist newspaper poem.
Bu shì bu bào, shíhou wei dào.
Wei like in Ai Weiwei, “ei” like in Beijing.
Wei means not yet, that’s his name. Really.
“Wei” like the future.
His father was the most famous Communist poet
of the People’s Republic. Imprisoned in the 1930s,
maybe in Chongqing. Then again under Mao.
Exiled to Xinjiang, North Korea today, re-education camps.
Desert, somewhere between Dunhuang and Ürümqi,
what was the town? It’s a big city now.
Ai Weiwei grew up in a hole in the ground, with his brother.
They are both artists. Anyway, where was I?

Bu shì bu bào, shíhou wei dào.
Not that it doesn’t come back, time isn’t ripe.
Emancipation monument.
MLK day, I have a dream.
They had to memorize the whole speech,
in schools in China, 1970s.
Maybe earlier too, maybe till now.
Good deeds, good returns.
Bad deeds, bad returns.
The Chinese Dream.
Not that it doesn’t come back.
Zao you zaobao, wan you wanbao.
Morning has morning papers, evening has evening news.
Early deeds, early returns.
Late deeds, late returns.
Late returns after gambling.
Famous party secretary, famous police chief,
they are in prison now. Or one is dead?
Killed a British guy, now they imprison Canadians.
Anyway, my poem.

Wanbao, wanbao!
Wanbao, wanbao!

Zao you zaobao,
wan you wanbao.

Bushi bu bao, shihou wei dao.

Actually the saying goes on, the Buddhist Karma.
Once time is ripe, everything comes back.
You don’t need to say that. People know.

晚报,晚报!

早有早报,晚有晚报。
不是不报,时候未到!

MW January 2019

 

Artwork by Liu Xia

 

Photos by Liu Xia

 

 

AUS DER FERNE

十月 18, 2017

AUS DER FERNE

wenn li peng aus der ferne komme, sei das kein vergnügen, sagte konfuzius, er spritze irrsinnig weit & schreie dabei auch noch sehr lange.

MW Oktober 2017

TAGE EINES TAUBEN POETEN – 左右

四月 11, 2017

Zuo You
TAGE EINES TAUBEN POETEN

Wang Youwei sagt,
ich lache
wie eine Ziege.

Mir fällt ein,
jemand hat gesagt,
wenn ich spreche
kling ich wie eine Biene.
Wenn ich weine
kling ich wie ein Frosch oder auch wie ein Hahn.

Wenn ich so etwas höre
bin ich so glücklich.
Jahrzehntelang
bin ich schon am Suchen.

Übersetzt von MW im April 2017

WETTERBERICHT

三月 30, 2017

Photo by Juliane Adler

WETTERBERICHT

bregenz
heiter: 6
im rest des landes
ziehen wolkenfelder durch

MW 30. März 2017

MOABIT

七月 27, 2015

Stralsund flowers

MOABIT

die sonne sinkt
die s-bahn fährt
die vögel und
die kinder schäkern
quietschen
noch ein paar strahlen
die stadt ist nass

MW Juli 2015

TEARS OF A CRICKET – Pang Pei

十一月 25, 2013

Picture by Sara Bernal

Picture by Sara Bernal

Pang Pei
TEARS OF A CRICKET

a cricket is calling outside my window
I would like to call in this way
holding you in my mouth very softly
you in a teardrop

my feelings for you are certainly not
more crystal clear than the sounds of a cricket
I hope those lending their ears to these crickets
forget how life hurts and the years vanish like water

Tr. MW, Nov. 2013

龐培
蟋蟀之淚

一隻蟋蟀在窗外叫著
我也願意像這樣叫著
在叫聲中輕含著你
一顆淚中的你

我對你的感情絲毫
不比一隻蟋蟀的聲音更美、更晶瑩
但願那些傾聽它們的耳朵
也忘記了年華逝水,人世的苦命

Pang Pei
DIE TRÄNE DER GRILLE

unterm fenster ruft eine grille
ich möchte auch so rufen
im rufen hab ich dich ganz leicht im mund
in einer träne

mein fühlen für dich ist überhaupt nicht
schöner kristallener als dieses rufen
mögen die deren ohren ihm lauschen
vergessen wie leben verrinnt und ihr leid

Übersetzt von MW im November 2013


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