Zhai Yongming
     trs. by Sophia Kidd

the stakes stand   but the witches have fled
night is complete   a cold lonely grave
the moon has also run off   under dark cloud cover

voices twitter
tossed and scattered silver light
concise dialogue   a cat’s cry
one dry voice
as if about to be lit by match
telling yesterday’s story
of murder and ruin
voice spasms   larynx rasps
he desperately scrapes out words
to tell us of a general and his whore
how they were together
there’s another sound   neither male nor female
a thin and old tone   as if a mumble
Blackbeard rubs his hands   making bits of predictions
everything is of old    everything
will come around again

prophecy entwined in Blackbeard’s night
passed down for ages   like today
the witch’s stake has become a dragon chair at the center of the
world
an earth-shaking conspiracy covers the world
flames are everywhere   lynchings and viruses spread
east west north and south
invisible chaos   so loud we don’t hear
this is an age that cannot be predicted
although the witch has not gone far   the script and stage
have grown dull and boring
the plot and performance belong to the audience
the ending will open forth   or come to an abrupt end
until i’m immersed   i go down with doomsday
the world is see-through   tho light is faint
witches   never go far
their throats still itchy
swallowing all kinds of ominous
because death never leaves us
because the road ahead cannot be predicted

Zhai Yongming
trs. by Chen Xiaoyuan

The Chalk Circle⁴

in the chalk circle stands son of man
made from fluid of earth   semen of heaven
in solitude   he grows   a little bigger
helpless to choose

outside the chalk circle   stand two women
of unknown flesh and blood   or rather
spotless and unstained
they’ve just gone through a war   or rather
been possessed by war

the chalk circle is grey and red
as are the eyes fighting
eyes are red and grimy
as the one being fought

the judge’s bench   a gavel hammers
endless rivers and mountains on one side
bonds of blood and marriage on the other
rivers and mountains suck the bond dry
the bond consolidates rivers and mountains

and me? what am I?
I am the prey   a stack of substances
a soul without recognition
but waiting

to be possessed by   or belong to
could I say   I was just passing through
by accident I fell   into this chalk circle
I don’t belong to war
nor to peace
the territory of the chalk circle is my only home

the judge’s bench   a gavel hammers
who will have me?
the small chalk circle’s crammed with firewood
where my nascent consciousness
broils in flames of law
my blood writhes in the fight

two hands reach from left and right
one is maternal love   so is the other
one is rose   so is the other
a waterfall issues from one   so from the other
they both frighten me
this chalk circle fight
is as absurd within   as without

the judge’s bench   a gavel hammers
who will have me?
whoever wins   theirs is both maternal love
the soldering iron welds me inside
for a lifetime   in the chalk circle
for a lifetime

__________________

4  Story of the Chalk Circle:  Two women are fighting for the same child.  To decide who the real mother is, the judge places the child at the center of a chalk circle and asks the women to pull the child out from the circle, which is a scene similar to the Judgement of Solomon.  The mother, who cannot bear to hurt the child and gives in, wins the case.  Contemporary drama often quotes, transforms or subverts classical drama.  As the most adapted legend, “Story of the Chalk Circle” has been adapted into novels, Yuan Operas, and modern plays.  In this poem, I referred to different adaptations and changed the point of view so as to focus on the shackles of maternal love upon their children.

by Xiang Yixian
     trs. by Sophia Kidd & Chen Xiaoyuan

1

Mr. Su Men¹
Ji Kang climbs the mountain looking for you
for twelve seasons
a thousand evenings
soaking up springs for you
driving out tigers and leopards
polishing every
stone
to outshine the moon
time flies
now frost returns

2

Sun Deng looks into
a jade sunset
bends his right index finger
between lips and teeth
forming a valley
of sound
from the lobes
of his lungs
he pulls a clear stream of tone
whistles at rose-colored clouds
whistles to a faint and muddled age
when everything is dead
I arise a phoenix screaming

3

Mr. Su Men
for three years
you’ve not given me one word
if only
you’d give me just one word
I’d be content
could it be
that sonorous and pure song
that quivering and projected whistle
is your only way to
speak with me or
with the world?

4

Sun Deng² hones in
his straying thought
gaze rests on Ji Kang
on a haggard and starved visage
focused and unfamiliar
as if never met
with the strength of insight
the invisible knife of scrutiny
with its silent edge
to polish all forms

5

thorns
for the first time Ji Kang feels
that no heart is too strong
to pierce
autumn’s evening   its frigid cold
mountain as a lost world
silver plated with insect sounds
fallen woods desolate
Ji Kang turns
to decide

6

He slings the qin zither onto his back
as three years past on coming here
he knows there is a unique
single stringed zither
that can perform all impermanence
Ji claps his hands to his face
sullen as stone
the scholar who never shed tears
now soaks the stones beneath him

7

Sun Deng once again lifts his hand
Ji Kang knows
what will happen next
he even sees
the rising
swell
but now
he hears
the single word

8

obscure autumn ravine
splitting stone and shredding silk
fire!

9

Ji Kang and Sun Deng, stand
like two verdured peaks
two swords
two dead trees
two children
two gods
and
two fires.

10

dear Shuye³
have you ever seen fire?
tonight, we bid farewell
and will never meet again
I have nothing to give you
Shuye
fire is the only
lasting treasure
lives of verdant trees
are short and hasty

11

time and days shine   mountains
are like ocean waves   going up and down
Ji Kang is overwhelmed
by the fire
lit by three years of his youth
ah yes
I have to re-identify
this leaping hot flower
wood stones   paper silk   metal
shadows   soul   constellation
the fire of the body

12

darkness holds seeds
ashes sow light
fire of burnt enlightenment is so beautiful
flint and chisel carving out poems
just at this moment
transcending the ages
a pealing of phoenix cry
from the top
pours down like melting gold
mountains and valleys echo
and on a frosted morn
the eyes of Ji Kang
catch on fire

______________________

1  Mr. Su Men, i.e. Sun Deng.  Su Men Mountain is where Sun Deng lived.

2  Shuye, Ji Kang’s courtesy name (or zi) a name traditionally given to Chinese men when they came of age.  The practice is no longer common in modern Chinese society.

3  Sun Deng, a famous recluse of Wei and Jin Dynasties, lived in Su Men Mountain.  He liked to play the one-stringed zither.  He was reserved and good at whistling.  Book of Jin, volume 94, says, Ji Kang (courtesy name, Shuye) travelled with Sun Deng for three years.  Whenever he asked Sun Deng what he aspired to in a lifetime, Sun Deng never replied, which made Ji Kang groan.  When Ji Kang had to bid farewell, he asked, “Master, is there anything you want to say to me?”  Sun Deng said, “Have you ever seen fire?  Fire naturally brings light but never makes use of its own light, which in fact makes it the most useful.  If a person is born with talents and he never shows them off, this is in fact the best use of his talents.  Therefore, the purpose of having light is to collect wood, which can feed the fire; the purpose of having talents is to see the truth, the truth of living a long life.  At present, you are talented but imprudent.  I’m afraid you will not be able to avoid the misfortunes in such times.  Aren’t you trying to do something?”  Kang didn’t listen to Sun Deng’s advice and was finally sentenced to execution by a jealous rival.