Poems by Hai Zi

Hai Zi, born in 1965, Anhui Province, of a&127;peasant's family,&127;whose
suicide in 1989 shocked the Chinese poetry circle, with a large number
of longer and shorter poems remained unpublished.



● AUTUMN

Autumn is late, in god's house eagles are gathering
In god's house eagles are uttering
Autumn is late, the king is writing a poem
In this world autumn is late
That which should be obtained not yet obtained
That which should be lost already lost for long



● IN HIS REQUIEM MOZART SAID

The woman I can see
The woman in water
In a wheat field
Please put my bones in order
My bones as a bunch of reed catkins
And put them in a zither case to bring back

The pure woman
I can see, the woman
On the river
Please reach out your arms into the wheat field

When I helplessly
Return home sitting on a bundle of wheat
Please arrange my bones dishevelled
To put into the small dark red chest. Bring it back
As you do your own rich dowries



● HAW TREE

Tonight I will not meet you
Tonight I have met everything in the world
But not you.

A summer's last
Fire-red haw tree
as a bicycle of a tall goddess
As a girl fears mountains
Blankly standing at the door
She will not come running
Towards me!

I pass through dusk
like the wind blowing towards a distant plain
I will embrace a solitary tree trunk in twilight
Haw tree! Flashing past Ah! Haw tree

I will sit under your fire-red breasts until daybreak
Under the haw tree's small and graceful breasts
On the bicycle of the tall goddess
On the hands of a farmer's wife
and will die out when night falls



● I AM SICK

An ancient wood
Under a knife-held hand
bocomes a zither

Or from an animal skin
Which is originally a string and vein of blue snow-water

The zither is my sickbed
Or a marriage bed
But I have no bride

A trunk
Is simply a trunk

A maid in wind, as a basket with fruits in it
Lies on the zither once a year, falls ill
Once a year
I have been always ordinary
But now more than that






Poems by Yu Yu

Yu Yu, a Chinese poet who lives in Shanghai, has published several
books of poetry including "Between".



● TODAY

Does Moscow really not believe in tears
The skin of Russian nation often chaps
The demarcation lines of constituent republics far more than fifteen

How strong the wind from Siberia is
Wall pulls out its jacket as a door
Then the whole generation struggles away to walk in the streets

The Red Square does not belong to any individuals
The Great buried itself too early
Its remains to be looked at by people, including enemy



● A VIEW-POINT TO AN INTERNATIONAL CONGRESS

The pigeon meat is very delicious
And use peace to go well with wine
The disarmament congress gets dead drunk
The waitresses
Have many kinds of significant handicrafts
Began to contribute all the Nobel Prize in Peace of the year
To his ministry of National Defense
Patriotism must be annotated again
Not after his death
A soldier is then called a hero
For a hero will never die
A hero's hometown is in 1914 and 1939
The wars had broken out in the world
While Marx-Leninism strikes roots in the hearts of people
Capitialism and Socialism divided from each other
Unexpectedly
War and Peace
People's comprehension has just been a month old
Peace is a plate of delicacies
War is a bottle of strong wine
Sell them to mankind
So the world slants eastward or westward







Poems by Song Ci

Song Ci, a Chinese poet lives in Mudanjiang, Heilongjiang Province.



● SHANDOW AND CRIME

How can I tell
Where my shadow had been
What my shadow had done
It was very dark then

The next morning
People said to each other
In the night a wife committed adultery
In the night a husband was murdered
Somewhere a thief was caught
Somewhere a home caught fire
How can I tell
Whether these things were done by my shadow

When the police come to inquire
I could only prove
That I turned on the light twice the previous night
And my shadow was by my side all along
After I turned off the light, I fell asleep
My shadow was in my dream

For what reason am I condemned
I really don not know
I am unable to right this wrong



● THE STEPS WE FACE TO

Those steps
Endlessly flowing down my feet as rapid
I have to climb ceaselessly
Yes, I have to
Otherwise I will be washed down
And filed into pieces by waves' teeth
I dare not think over the behind
No, I dare not
Finally I feel very tired
Finally I am exhausted
And fianlly I stop
And I find those steps stop too
(In fact they do not move at all)
As I look back
I find myself turn out to stand on the first step all the time
Facing the steps
I grow old



● CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

I can not remember in which ringlike wall
I had seen a blindman
Who had been kicking a football all along
He stood in the center of the circle
And could not choose the angles
As he kicked each time
the ball rebounded back to kick him
He got angry
And kicked it harder and harder
When I asked what he was doing
He answered that he wanted to torture that ball
Because it was guilty to him
But he said again:
I would rather die
As he kicked on





Poems by Duo Duo

Duo Duo, an Emigre Chinese poet lives abroad.



● RAVENS

As the ashes dispersing slowly
Above the crematory
They, the black funeral angels
At the moment of death descending to man's world
As a crowd of musical punctuations
Escaping from the dusk......
What gazes after them
is dumb
And the sky is like a immense theater
Where seems as if countless silent past events
Which are immersed in pessimism
Continue their negative sighs



● AUTUMN

What is lost on the stone steps
Are just maple leaves and playing cards
And what remained in the memory
Are just patters of rain repeatedly giving echoes
As a reminder of the past
As a pause in memorial speech
Then go on......



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