Winter Sun: Poems
208
Winter Sun: Poems
208Paperback(Bilingual)
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Overview
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9780806142418 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | University of Oklahoma Press |
| Publication date: | 01/15/2012 |
| Series: | Chinese Literature Today Book Series , #1 |
| Edition description: | Bilingual |
| Pages: | 208 |
| Product dimensions: | 6.00(w) x 8.90(h) x 0.80(d) |
About the Author
Zhang Qinghua is Professor of Modern and Contemporary Chinese Literature at Beijing Normal University. He is the author of several books of literary criticism and is an editor of Chinese Literature Today magazine.
Read an Excerpt
Winter Sun
Poems
By Shi Zhi, Jonathan Stalling
UNIVERSITY OF OKLAHOMA PRESS
Copyright © 2011 University of Oklahoma PressAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-8061-4241-8
CHAPTER 1
OCEAN TRILOGY
1. Waves and Ocean
Clamorous waves
And a deep ocean
Fervently attract me
And eagerly draw me forward
When I am depressed
I find solace in its broad chest
When I am weak
I need its unwavering resolution
It is because I am so ordinary
That I yearn for the ocean's great power
It is because I appear so homely
That I love its deep, luminous blue
I will always sing of you
Of your loud, impassioned waves
I will always bow before you
Before this deep ocean blue
2. The Ocean without Waves
No! Friend, get as far away as you can
Leave this ocean that can no longer lift its waves
With scalding tears, I beg you
Go search for your own promising future
Get as far away as you can
Leave this ocean without waves
It has fallen fast asleep
Like someone homeless dozing under an eave at night
It has lost its youthful vigor
Even its honest voice
Worse still
It has lost its righteous spirit
My friend, why are you crying
Let it out if you need to
Just don't cry over its lost youth
Cry instead for its ever-fighting spirit
Please get as far away from this silent ocean as you can
Yet never, ever forget
How its waves once surged forward
Rushing headlong into the future
Today it remains unbearably silent
How many feelings lie buried within
It is still saving its power
Anxiously waiting for its time ...
No! Friend, get as far away as you can
Leave me here alone ...
So that I can stay with this waveless sea
Staggering, hesitating
3. For Friends
—Fewer tears should be used to express grief and joy
Instead, more poems should be used to praise bravery
"Set Sail—"
Passionate winds call out to me
An excited joy takes hold
And carries this voice far, so far away
We are not reunited by our old dreams
But fight shoulder-to-shoulder once more
Young comrades-in-arms
Quickly, hoist the sails and unfasten the cables
This wretched little boat
Cannot be used as the Red Guard's warship
Forget it! A drunk leaning against the table
Life's road is never a smooth one
"Life's pleasures are but money squandered
Courage can always be exchanged for a feast"
Shameless
The greed-contorted face of a money worshipper
There are those who spend their days with the God of Love
Young lovers walking down grass-covered paths
No longer yearn for the joy of the storm
But lose themselves in the warmth of their little families
"Set Sail—"
The dejected wind calls out, sobbing
Warm tears fall upon the sand
And kiss the footprints of those who have left for distant lands
2
Suddenly I realize from the depths of my grief
That the arms behind the oars are so puny
And the sailor's clothes and bags
Are so flimsy and cheap
Mao Tse-tung's collected works
Are tightly clasped to his warm chest
A Chairman Mao badge
Glows golden under the setting sun
A washed-out army uniform
Has endured the flames of war with his parents
And the army belt
Now follows the children to experience the storm
Held high, waving toward the shore
Are farewell's arms
Sss sss, thickly raining down the chest
Are departure's tears
A graying old man hurries to send him off
Sunken eyes glimmering with tears
"My child, never stop moving forward
Keep your eyes on the Big Dipper"
With a soft, deeply trusting warning
He drifts away with the winds, sailing
As the winds carry them back to shore
They are little more than the aching sounds of oars
3
Tonight the infinite sky is only dimly lit by stars
Gales ignite beacons across the ocean of fate
Its sail lowered, the boat is an unbridled warhorse
Courageously lifting its bloody mane
Suddenly falling into a valley of waves
It is buried in limitless depths
Where, where has it gone
The sailboat I have hoped for
Wailing winds push waves into the sky
Spirit craft, propelled by oars of will
This is no longer a smiling solon
But a blood-covered battlefield
Like an autumn wind sweeping away a fallen leaf
Oceanic fate
Where are you leading this boat?
To hell? Or heaven?
"Pull the boat closer, keep left
This is a bay of schooling fish"
A sound arrives from far off on the left
From a fishing boat trolling the sea of fate for profit
"Let the storm break in all its fury!"
A suppressed yell from deep beneath the ocean echoes
"Let the cowards die
The living will be all the more courageous"
Look, our small boat
It's riding the crest of a wave
You can see her arrogant manner
Like a proud petrel
...
...
My friend, please don't ask me with your eyes
Whether an end like this is too abrupt
Just wait for the torrent of life to pass
Then leave us your passionate and sincere words
First draft, February 1965/final version, February 1, 1968
THE LETTER, PART ONE
This poem was inspired by a portrait of a woman that was given to
her husband, a Decembrist, before he was sent to a labor camp.
The god of melancholia has overtaken you
My dear wife—
He tortures me as well and
Calls you back into memory time and again
Yet I cannot abandon myself to grief
Because the god of liberty needs me alive
Who else will defend our garrison
Who else will seize the enemy's position?
Whenever I think of living on
I miss you all the more
Whenever I think of living on
I am reminded of your pure devotion
Is it possible that in life's hard travels
God no longer lightens our loads?
Is it possible that yesterday's endless love
Will only sharpen today's bitter farewells?
We must always plant truth firmly in our minds
In times of joy and misery
Our hearts must always look forward
So we don't lose our courage forever
...
Your portrait is wonderfully drawn
Not because you look so beautiful
But because it reveals your divine heart
To thank you
For your steadfast love
I pray to the northern spring winds
To kiss you full, my dear wife
THE LETTER, PART TWO
Tell me the truth
My imprisoned love
Who revealed to you
The unspeakable grief I endure?
Is it the darkened sight of misery
Or the thinned face of melancholy
Is it the cheeks atrophied by forever waiting
Or the teeth marks left on painful lips
Faint and endless grief
Is really love's gardener
Venus, no longer a knowing smile,
Is but a pair of glazed eyes
Tell me the truth, my imprisoned love
Across a thousand miles of exhausting wind and dirt
Has love embittered you with an even greater burden
Or have tears moistened your eyes?
Tell me the truth, my imprisoned love
Under the leather whip can you still lose yourself in peace?
Amid their crude insults is there any sympathy?
Thinking of these, my heart pounds violently against my chest
St. Petersburg is still hibernating under a quilt of snow
As Siberia has long since begun to revive
While St. Petersburg still waits under an endless night
Siberia has already begun to rush toward dawn
Tell me the truth, my imprisoned love
Does Siberia have entangled vines nearby?
Are there green leaves of hope densely woven into them?
Is the dew forming on deadwood glittering like tears?
Tell me, do tell me one more time
When will we meet again?
Will it be next year as green leaves hang from branches
Or this year, snow drifting in the wind?
1967
DESTINY
A good reputation is a banknote that can never be broken
A bad reputation is a chain from which one cannot break free
If this is the nature of the real world
Let me drift forever on the monotony of the sea
Where can I find a reliable raft?
Destitute, I can only wander empty city streets
Looking for a friendly door to knock on
To bum at least a little change
My life is a withered leaf tossed and drifting
My future, an infertile grain of barley
If this is my destiny
Let me sing with abandon for the wild brambles
Even as their thorns puncture my heart
My blood is like fire, red, flaming
Creeping toward clamorous rivers
Though my body dies, my spirit will never be silenced!
1967
FISH TRILOGY
I
Beneath layers of indifferent ice, a fish flows with the current
Its bitter sighs cannot be heard
Since it cannot find any warm sunlight
Why would it greet and send off the glorious day?
If there are no waves in reality
Why does it bathe in the blood of struggle?
If its future is distant beyond measure
How can it take refuge in hope?
Fish can only find spiritual solace
In sweet memory
Let its bittersweet tears
Again hold up the pale stories of the past
It is not the time for chasing blooms in spring winds
Or resting peacefully beneath the summer sun
Nor is it the time for feeling the chill of early spring winds
Or seeing the rippling green water of midsummer
But it's when nature is covered in white bandages
And the bleeding wounds have just healed
There are no more withered leaves lingering on the ground
Or cold rain endlessly falling from the sky
How fiercely it leaps from the water
To not lose the freedom of breath
How wildly it strikes back
To not lose what advantages it still may possess
Though every leap ends in failure
Every jump falls short
Yet the steely fish still has the nerve
To hold back for the final push
At last finding a thin patch of ice
Yes, it bends back like a bow and springs
With head down and tail extended, it soars into the air
So nimble, so strong
Faint sunlight ripples through the water
Gently stroking its bleeding fins
My child, I'm afraid this may be our last encounter
Until we meet next spring
Facing the sun, it joyously jumps again
Able to breathe above the water now and then
Its wisps of crimson blood disperse into the stream
Waving like red flags upon the battlefield
Suddenly, with a spasm of sharp pain,
It sinks unconscious into the depths
Oh my fish, you are still young
How can this be your end?!
Stop sinking, stop sinking
My heart babbles in its hushed voice
Finally snapping awake
Desperate, it flashes toward the sunlight
When it emerges from the water again
It has given its all
Cold lips opening and closing without a sound
From the undulating water rises a noble voice
"Never fear the callous wind and snow
Never surrender to the bitter winter's breath"
Voice fading, it plunges back into the water
Without looking back, it swims onward
Beneath layers of indifferent ice, a fish slides with the current
Its suffering moans cannot be heard
Since it cannot find any warm sunlight
Why should it meet and send off the glorious day?
II
Cutting a hole in the ice beneath the cover of night
A fisherman quickly sets his nets
Provisions of food and tobacco stacked on the shore
Enveloped in clouds, he waits for the blue-gray dawn
Why do the suspended stars glitter like translucent tears?
Can there be true friendship in the dark?
Why has the fish not yet discovered
That the fingers of dawn have already plucked the cold, rattling stars?
A brilliant ray of sunlight flashes
And the fish can barely open its eyes
It thaws dreams frozen in the ice
And gently wakes the fish from its deep sleep
"Oh my child, do you still remember me?
Can you call out my name?
Are you still searching for the destiny I have written for you?
Are you still searching for freedom and the light?"
Hearing the sun's questions
The fish opens its baffled eyes
It attempts to shake its numb tail
A pair of fins gently patting its breast
"Sunshine of freedom, please tell me the truth
Is this the spring of hope?
Is there inedible bait lying off the shore?
Are there any traces of returning geese in the sky?"
Silence, silence, awful silence
It can't throw even the faintest echo
The fish's heart quivers in a jolt
It hears branches screaming in pain
Vigilance urges the fish directly forward
Infatuated with the sun's glow
It wants to cast the sun's radiance down across
The vague road of its future ...
Only when all hope is lost
Does the fish see the ferocious nets closing in
"Where is spring?" tears pooling in its eyes
Again it begins its journey beneath the ice
Like the fisherman devouring his food
The sun tears through his insatiable nets
In the rising cloud of his tobacco
The fisherman dreams of a bountiful harvest
III
So long desired, spring's revival finally arrives
The sun's long, sharp blade reveals its power
And callously severs the icebound river
As sheets of struggling ice crash together
Beneath layers of ice, a python has slept the year through
Barely emerging, it swiftly withdraws to the river bottom
The frogs, wearing the banners of battlefield singers,
Are frightened and scurry in all directions to hide
My fish, my fish
Where are you, where have you gone?
Have you yearned for winter, and if you did die
Your body should float up to the surface!
It's true, the fish really did die
Its dull eyes are as pale as the moon
Just now, its gills moved so faintly
Falling back like quiet waves
It was still so young, so headstrong
Because it so fervently sought the sun and its freedom
It leapt from the water without fear of the consequences
Only to fall upon the ice, which will melt in time
At the point of death, the fish struggled upon the ice
The sun quickly hid its light behind the clouds
Unwilling to watch her child
Such a young fish to share this fate
But the fish was ready to give his life
"Sun, I am your child
Please pull out your sharp sword
Let me dissolve together with the ice"
It's true, the fish really did die
Its dull eyes are as pale as the indifferent moon
Just now, its gills moved so faintly
Falling back like quiet waves
One newborn leaf after another
Falls without wind, scattering through the air
With a faint tear-like rain
To cover the dead fish in silence
Is it a heap of sharp white bones
Or a rich storehouse of spirit?
My soul, its green tomb,
Will it provoke deep, wandering thoughts?
When the ice has dissolved
And the river relaxes its waves
Frogs leap from the grass
Pythons swim out from the algae
After a full meal, the pythons listen quietly
To the frogs' elegiac songs
And weep piteous tears
When the frogs sing of the fish's death
1967?1968
SMOKE
From a lit cigarette, a dream of the future rises
The blue cloud is the dawn of hope once struggled for
But now it becomes a fog of depression in my heart
Condensed into a deep cloud of unfalling rain
I push open the bright window
To greet the refreshing rural breeze
How I long to hold on to the fading smoke
That is your shadow bidding me farewell
Summer 1968
WINE
As if brewed from blood, a fire-red wine
Overflows a euphoric glass with fervor
The glass trembles in my hand
As your beautiful eyes appear upon the sloshing wine
I am drunk with joy
But for the peace of my soul
I will finish this off
Drinking down all of your passion
Summer 1968
THIS IS WHAT I SAY
When autumn winds scatter golden leaves
Heartbroken, I feel the murmuring farewell of mourning
A gentle rain mixing with bitter tears
Fills the trembling wineglasses in our hands
In autumn a broken-hearted day breaks
A honied fruit falls from its stem
Fruit-bearing branches and vines full of dew
Her beloved friends are forever left behind
A poignant voice speaks out:
"Friends, remember me, always remember me"
Yes, this is what I say
As time passes numbly
You will lose your finer memories
Like quietly falling orchid petals
Quilting Mother Earth with their bounty
Perhaps it is the right time
When white flowers open for me
I leave footprints behind for death
Still running on toward the future
A cold voice speaks out
"Friends, forget me, forget me forever"
Yes, this is what I say
Autumn 1968
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Winter Sun by Shi Zhi, Jonathan Stalling. Copyright © 2011 University of Oklahoma Press. Excerpted by permission of UNIVERSITY OF OKLAHOMA PRESS.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
Contents
INTRODUCTION: The Return of the Pioneer,Zhang Qinghua,
POEMS,
Ocean Trilogy,
The Letter, Part One,
The Letter, Part Two,
Destiny,
Fish Trilogy,
Smoke,
Wine,
This Is What I Say,
This Is Beijing at 4:08,
Farewell from the Platform on a Winter's Night,
It Would Be Best to Simply Forget Her,
You Are in Love,
Believe in the Future,
Isn't the God of Love Not More Than,
Dusk,
The Spirit, Part One,
Hope,
Cold Wind,
For a Friend,
Toward Mother an Ocean Wind Blows,
The Spirit, Part Two,
Fury,
Resting in the Fields,
Mad Dog,
Anhui Maid in Beijing,
Love Life,
Perhaps,
I Love, Part One,
Reverie,
Fantasy,
Life, Part One,
I Love, Part Two,
The Ocean at Dawn,
Dialogue between the Ground and a Fallen Leaf,
Untitled,
Dead Leaf,
Life, Part Two,
The Poet's Laurel,
My Injured Soul,
The Chill of Autumn,
I Don't Know,
Farewell to Youth,
In the Asylum,
The Final Return,
You,
My Youth,
Poetry,
Life, Part Three,
A Poet's Bitter Fate,
A Blessing for My Home,
Thinking of the Past,
Greed,
Rainy Night,
This Is How I Write My Songs,
When You Are Old,
Eight Years in a Psychiatric Ward,
In the Afternoon of My Life's Work,
China, Such a Place ...,
Snowstorm,
Chinese Poets at the End of the Century,
Passing Youth Never Returns,
A Gathering,
My Dream,
Thawing Tide of Emotion,
The God of Poetry Has Come,
Waystation of the Spirit,
Sunlight of Winter,
Oh, Nietzsche,
Over Fifty,
My Singing,
Autumn Rain,
Upon Seeing "Rouen Cathedral",
Bitter Summer,
Far from the Frenzied Crowd,
Home,
Spring Snow?,
TO MY AMERICAN READERS SHI Zhi,
TRANSLATOR'S ACKNOWLEDGMENTS,