jump off
translated by PLS
four (as in the fourth day of the fourth month)
jumping off the cliff to dive into people’s hearts
such a careless intentional plan
individuals perish together
back against the precipice protesting in silence
destiny this arrogant conspirator
summoning the spirits out
inherent poverty is like a haunting ghost
before death you tie up my limbs
from the uterus of hell
steal the last straw that crushed Xiangzi*
those who wish to reincarnate but die on the same day
dead early but born on the same day
replace the life-saving straw for those who wish to die
save everyone from losing the dignity of being a man
* the rickshaw boy from Lao She’s novelRickshaw Boy.
2 May 2024
7. birth of a white night - 杰
birth of a white night
translated by PLS
in bed, i witness
the escape of ten million stars
night brutal as usual
sultry as usual
in a dream, i am again a
laminated fish
forcing out a corridor chewed by tusks
then a sinking yet un-sprouted body
what belongs to tonight
should all be handed to the night
the first heartbeat, breath
analogy, lyricism
i can still shut my eyes, or be soaked
or migrate, to the age of seven, eight
to the light and warmth of the star
and the unmeasurable, opaque spirals
back then, everything should be white
because my memory/oblivion
aren’t as abundant/dangerous as fish
piercing pain.
at last i welcome another ten million stars/scales
the ten millionth time of
sinking/waking.
2 May 2024
6. Elements - 杰
Elements
After John Thompson’s “The Onion”
by Erin Vosters
He is toasting spices, tawny cumin
browning in the cast iron pan
seasoned weekly in his attention,
and the air is hot with it. Windows
open, fan on, each breath
burning at the heart of me.
Sometimes I have to walk out, sit
on the cool concrete front step, breathe
the empty evening before I steep again
in the curried air. With the knife blade flat, he cracks
into cloves of garlic, and their isotopes
light the main floor, a bright rush of scent.How hot
should I make this?The smell is not just smell but
presence, atmosphere, and we
are alone in it.In the emerald living room, I sit
and look through to the kitchen.His neck
bends over the cutting board, an onion
comes apart, his eyes strain
open
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