Do not try to fool me with purity.

Three poems by Liu Xia, translated by Ming Di and Jennifer Stern.

These poems are forthcoming in Empty Chairs: Selected Poems from Graywolf Press, November 3, 2015. Read more about Liu Xia and her work at PEN America.

毒藥

by Liu Xia

梵高的耳朵傳遞給我

緊張如大地就要崩潰的消息

 

警惕那些天空如洗的夜晚

餐桌中央怒放的鮮花

書本裡有序的語句

電視台關於氣候的消息

卡夫卡眼睛的瘋狂

 

守護最後一縷爐火

如同天災後農人守護

地裡唯一一穗高梁

 

我是這個世界的毒藥

看見白雪覆蓋下

大地正在腐爛的屍體

屍體上蠕動的蛆

別想用純潔來欺騙我

 

不要掩藏死亡

不要人造的天堂

偽天使們熱烈的目光

不如一根枯黃的稻草

一隻香煙燃盡的輝煌

 

1/1997

 

Poison

by Liu Xia

Van Gogh’s ear sends me an urgent message

that the earth is about to collapse.

 

Beware of the white-washed night sky

the flowers in full bloom on the dining room table  

the orderly lines of sentences in a book

the weather forecast on TV

and Kafka’s crazy eyes.

 

Guard the last ray of fire

like farmers guarding the only sorghum

left in a field after a natural disaster.

 

I am the poison of this world.

I can see a rotting corpse, the earth,

covered in snow

and I can see wriggling maggots.

Do not try to fool me with purity.

 

Do not hide death.

Do not build an artificial paradise.

The warm look from the eyes of a fake angel

is worse than the glory of straw yellowing

or a cigarette burning out.

 

1/1997

translated from Chinese by Ming Di & Jennifer Stern
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外祖父

by Liu Xia

落滿灰塵的向家祠堂

一片恍惚的陰影

徘徊不去

是你嗎?我面容模糊的外祖父

多少年了,我透過近視的雙眼

尋找你的手

觸摸我不曾走動過的歲月

在夢中回到你的家園

 

我知道你存在

舊照片上你發黃的青春

與這南方持久的碧綠

相距實在太遠

 

獨自一人時

我常常看到

你牽著我的手

我們一起走在一本又一本書中

心中充滿悲涼

沒有人告訴過我

關於你的任何一個微小的細節

似乎你生活在冰川期以前

而我又無力成為考古學家

 

我只能用心

把你交還給這些

單薄的詞語

你在陳舊的老宅裡

是否感到了一縷

新鮮的空氣

外祖父

 

2/1997

Grandfather

by Liu Xia

In the dusty ancestral hall,

a lingering shadow

doesn’t want to leave.

Is that blurred face you, grandfather?

For years, through my myopic

eyes, I’ve tried to seek your hands, to touch

the years I had never passed through.

In dreams, only, I arrive at your house.

 

I know you exist.

Your yellowed youth in old photos

looks alien in this

southern green.

 

When I’m alone, I often see you

holding my hand. Together

we walk through book

after book,

which fills me with chilling grief.

Nobody shares the details

of your life, as if you lived

before the ice age. It’s impossible

for me to become an archaeologist.

 

I can only put my whole self

into giving you back

to these thin, frail words.

In your old house, do you feel

a flash

of fresh air,

grandfather?

 

2/1997

translated from Chinese by Ming Di & Jennifer Stern
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給林昭

by Liu Xia

我就這樣

久久地注視你的眼睛

輕輕地取出你嘴裡的棉團

你的嘴唇依然柔軟

你的墳墓空空蕩蕩

你的血燙傷了我伸出的手

如此寒冷又殘酷的死亡

讓九月燦爛陽光中獨坐的我

無法悲傷

 

任何形式的墓地

於熱愛自由的你

都過於輕浮

 

每年的陰曆十五

河上會佈滿河燈

卻招不回你的靈魂

你冷眼端坐在

卡夫卡筆下四處漂流的冥船上

看這個世界依然荒唐

北大百年校慶的舉杯歡呼

讓你冷冷大笑

 

喝吧喝吧喝吧

這是血呢

你在黑暗中說

 

9/1998

 

To Lin Zhao

by Liu Xia

Like this, I look into your eyes,

and keep looking while

I gently take the cotton out of your mouth.  

Your lips are still soft,

your tomb is empty,

your blood burns my outstretched hands.

Death, cold and cruel, makes me sit alone

in the September sun,

incapable of feeling sad.

   

Any kind of tomb

will seem frivolous

to freedom-loving you.

 

Mid-autumn, every year,

lanterns float on the river,

but they can’t call your soul back.

Your eyes cold, you sit

on the nether-boat that sails under Kafka’s pen  

looking out at the absurd world.

The toasts for the centennial of Peking University

make you laugh and sneer.

   

Drink drink drink,

this is blood,  

you say in the darkness.

 

9/1998

translated from Chinese by Ming Di & Jennifer Stern
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