Poems of Haijiao Haitang (China)

 

Simple Life

Haijiao Haitang (China)

In India, by the Ganges River

A beautiful morning, a quiet butterfly

A pair of long delicate fingers

Begin a joyous culling

The soul and flesh of the butterfly are quickly peeled off

The categorized bones begin their carnival

The dexterous hands

The spirit of the world

The brown humor, wanton walking

Flowers and applause are fully dissolved

The nation-crossing border, like the antiquity in

The Ghost Stories

And a baptism of fate

The word of “simple” is rewritten in colored ink

Their souls are once again inlaid in your mouth

Over your nose

Again, twice, even three times

Repeated perception

All the warmth of the world

An Open Box

Haijiao Haitang (China)

This is a black humor

The clock handle of time hurtles forward

In medieval Europe

The Pandora’s Box is opened

A lot of young bones begin to be messy

Crazy dance

Wrong worships, the coincidence of pain

Atop the green mountain, under the running water

The stretching air is in ecstasy, taking a bath

A host of poems are crowding here

Butterflies stand quietly on the shoulders of life

To express their yearning

Under the blue sky and white clouds in the morning

A lot of dark matters

Affectionate embracing

To a Friend

Haijiao Haitang (China)

I fall into a thought

And I cannot get out for a long time

Like the encounter today

At the same time we fall into

A sweet, warm season

Each time we meet

You are always like a clear spring

To wash my long-sealed soul

Your casual action

Or a look back

Just like a spray coming to my side

Sometimes, again it is a pure photo

So happy, so sweet, coming to me

Between hands lifting and feet moving, like a perfect incarnation

For me to worship profoundly

March

Haijiao Haitang (China)

The sky is like the blue of ten thousand years ago

The playground is alive with big magnolias blossoming upon magnolias

To unlock the flying posture

Without a bit shy feeling

This is a grand flowery affair

The heart of everybody is as if a heavy cotton-padded jacket is taken off

The air of heaving relief

A bird leaps from one branch to the next

Their wings growing full and fuller

One, two, three... thirteen of them

Like blazing flames

Singing and flying towards me full of hope

Waiting for me to feed

This season

This is probably my most joyful thing

The First Falling Leaf

Haijiao Haitang (China)

The way you unlock it

Is like a fresh wind

Blowing down this morning

I see the first falling leaf  and its clear-veined face

Also like this season

Moving at the same time is more seawater

Where many creatures are gasping for breath

From time to time their nostrils float on the sea

The sky, the clouds with her dress

Quickly fleeing

The air is filled with the fearful sound

Little birds graze their little thoughts

Helpless and simple

All this passes through my life

I feel like I cannot breathe naturally

I am glad to be living in the inland

In the dream  the seaside house  gaudy and grotesque

February

Haijiao Haitang (China)

The time to read a poem

And spring begins to ripple and popple

The birds holding willow twigs

Listening to the premature spring breeze

In accordance with the red lanterns still hanging on the trees

Swaying hard

And dancing brazenly

As if the flying snowflakes are suppressing her growth

I seem to have seen the budding small buds

Lovely shaking their small heads

With young and sweet voice

Saying to the world

I am here again

When the army coats

And the little cotton-padded jackets are showing themselves

In the streets, in the subway

In the crowded attractions

They are elbowing and jostling with each other

The small flowers by the crowded road cannot help but smile

And the water in the river is babbling and clattering

Meeting the Qianling Mausoleum

Haijiao Haitang (China)

Late autumn, cold at dusk, bright moonlight

Eventually I can rest in peace upon these beautiful hills

Off with my crown and pearls

Leaning against my husband with weariness

Forget that arrogant age

Gently read each and every leaf in the mountain

Gently read each and every season of reincarnation in the mountain

And the wind shuttling through the branches

Sometimes I read carefully

The words in different lines on the tablets without words

I will gently stroke the beautiful ostrich guarding me

And will occasionally, with ambassadors from various countries

Talk with exquisite cups in the night light, in this prosperous world

In each morning I am used to

Meeting people from all over the world, from the bottom of the mountain

They step on the blue bricks of the Tang dynasty

With curious flash for photography records

For the ink soaked with emotion, or study

My past life, this life, and the next life

Actually I am also a loveable child in Mother’s womb

Often cherishing a little girlish thoughts

I would like to be a girl from beyond the world described by Tao Yuanming

Who marries, loves her husband, teaches her children, with adequate food and clothes

My legendary life, in each passing day, in each sunrise

And in each brilliant star

Has been written in many ways

Helplessly I have been tempered though the years with a mind detached from other women

I know, in the days to come

There are magical versions

Still I will read in my spare time

Like a bird’s song just flying through the sky

The Roses at a Vigil on Tumt Street

Haijiao Haitang (China)

When the sun fills the streets you put yourself to sleep

Like placing a rose

Your wandering body is always spreading out in the night

Those who steal the moonlight to sell it

Always resort to you for pleasure

You have been in love for countless times and seem to be heartless

Though the night is dark  your mind is simple

You laugh to yourself  without bargaining

Amidst laughing to take what belongs to you

In your body there is also a train

Which is continuously unloading the old time

From the first sight of your plumpness to the now thinness and innocence

You will not be bruised for life to be back with a tearful face

Your complicated life

Only memory of the man who spoiled you, to be back or not

Holding in the hand, the same paper money or not

(Translation into English by Prof. Dr.  Zhang Zhizhong)

About the Poetess:

Haoijiao Haitang, real name Liang Xiaohong, a native of Xianyang, Shaanxi Province, is a poetess in contemporary China. She is a member of Chinese Poetry Society, deputy editor of “Poetry Front Line”, executive editor of World Poetry & Literature, columnist of the 9th Half Blossom Chinese website. Her poems are scattered in newspapers and online poetry journals such as Poetry Periodical, Great Kunlun, Life, Oh Life, Chinese Poets, 2023 Calendar of Chinese Writers and Poets and Poetry Front Line. Some of her poems are included in Choice Selection of Chinese Poetry in the World 2020.

Her poetry view: Poetry is sometimes a misunderstanding.

 

About the Translator:

Zhang Zhizhong is professor, doctoral supervisor and dean of the Translation Department, as well as director of the Center for Globalization of Chinese Poetry of the School of Foreign Studies, Nankai University; meanwhile, he is director of the Translators’ Association of China, vice chairman of the Committee for English Translation of Chinese Classics of the Association for Comparative Studies of English and Chinese, part-time professor of Cross-Culture & World Literature Academy of Tianjin Normal University, director of Tianjin Comparative Literature Society, member of Tianjin Municipal Government Academic Degree Committee, member of Tianjin Municipal Government Professional Degree Education Guiding Committee, director and English secretary-general of World Sinology·Literary China Seminar, expert for the approval and evaluation of projects funded by the National Social Science Foundation of China, part-time researcher at the Central Literature Translation Research Base of Tianjin Foreign Studies University, guest editor of Rendition of International Poetry, English editor-in-chief of World Sinology, member of the editing board of Guided Reading Series in Contemporary Chinese Poetry, and member of the Board for Contemporary Chinese Poetry Prizes. He has published almost 120 books and 130 academic papers, and he has won a host of prizes in translation and academic research. His English translation of Chinese poetry is widely acclaimed throughout the world, and is favorably reviewed by international poets and translators. His view on poetry translation: spirit over form, and prose enjambment to rewrite Chinese poetry into sterling English poetry.