The following poems are from From here to herea collection of poems by the great Chinese poet Lan Lan. On Wednesday, July 22, Tricycle will be reading at the Poetry Society of America in Brooklyn, featuring Lan Lan, Wang Jiaxinand two other prominent contemporary poets. Register here to participate.
Wild sunflower
Come fall, this wild sunflower head
will be disconnected
someone passing by
suddenly recalled in the early twilight
his face melted
with the golden smoke of the sunset
the whole limitless summer.
So which passage? What crossed the horizon of buckwheat flowering?
Old tales drowned in sorrow
for which I perish once more.
Unreal wild sunflower. Unreal
voice, song.
Autumn wind stabbing the poison thorn in my chest.
In my village
Time passes quickly in my village.
A flock of birds takes to its wings
like another land.
Wind tells the scarf
summer is coming.
Summer is coming. Quail at noon
threw himself into the tall grass.
Foxtail in the fields
you see the wheat type of grain.
Who stops to nurture this
he will take care of me.
In my village
the candlelight serenades his window.
Through the scent of the rose,
go there. all night long
the roaring stream
restless in the moonlight.
Rain in a small town
Everything is getting closer in the rain
wooden carts, black umbrellas,
the red door of the home, freshly painted,
and just from work
my parents
at the shabby table
recalling ordinary things
from years ago, their faces
smooth as sculptor’s clay.
Everything moves in the rain
the dripping Chinese parasol trees, dim roads,
dim headlights. Beyond a curtain
they sway the dark human forms.
Shocks thresh the distant grove.
A screeching vane raises the water.
Outside our rainy house
storefronts face the sidewalk.
Less familiar people.
Less familiar noise and silence.
I stand under a pine tree
hear the bell of the old church.
The fields have been harvested.
Through a foggy mist,
flame licks itself
like a Buddha lamp in a ruined temple.
♦
From From here: New and selected poems Lan Lan, translated by Diana Shi and George O’Connell. Reprinted with permission from Slapering Hol Press.
