Jiaxin Wang
Two poems translated from the Chinese by John Balcom
At Weihai, Someone Asks Me about the Poet Duo Duo
Strolling on the coast at Weihai, I gaze at a distant ship,
Someone asks me about the poet Duo Duo.
I say he has retired from Hainan University, but gets no pension,
Because “he is a foreigner.”
“What does he live on? Is he invited to lecture?”
“He refuses. His pride, you know ‘All of England cannot
Accommodate my pride . . .’”
“Where is he staying in Beijing, then?” He rents a place,
(They tore down the place he inherited from his father.)
He writes poems there, reads Celan, reads Char, reads his
Penniless Tsvetaeva,
Sometimes he paints, but not for money . . .
“Hey, who told him to name himself Duo Duo*, or twice superfluous?
He’s superfluous abroad and just as superfluous at home.”
The poet Wang Guilin sighs, the rest of us force a smile;
I raise my head, and wonder where that
White ship on the sea has gone . . .
* “” (Duo) in Chinese means “superfluous”.
Homage To
1
I pay homage to Japanese monk,
Because the teeth of a bream at the fish market
Made him feel a chill.
2
I can’t see Lujia Mountain, Mt. Fuji is even harder to see,
But a pot of jasmine blossoms at the window
Of my new place in August.
3
An evening stroll, it’s like the road to Delphi.
Night in a dense wood,
Faint light on the river’s surface.
4
He once praised the mystery and beauty of the peacock,
Now he avoids them,
As if they would come and feed on human flesh.
5
Language, and the rhythm of an aging body—
Greater hesitance and more pauses
And a request for greater calm.
6
Though cruel, I should thank your death:
The cold northern light of winter
In August reverts to us.
7
Six months after returning from the madhouse in St Remy,
He is still thinking of the blue irises Van Gogh painted—
That moment of silence penetrating the sandy land . . .
8
Shakespeare didn’t know he was Shakespeare.
Du Fu said as he aged his poems became more easy going.
The way it should be! Let’s go out for a stroll.