Bei Dao

Before the fire-train enters the forest
The snowstorm in the fire-extinguisher falls asleep
You deign to listen to the past—
...

In the forgetting of tree and tree
Is the dog's lyric assault
At the pointless journey's endpoint
Night turns all gold keys
...

Coldcrow jackdaws piece themselves
Into night: black map
I've come back—return journeys
...

In a chilly morning of February
The oak has finally taken a grievous size
Father, before your photograph
...

TRANSLATED BY BONNIE S. MCDOUGALL
Debasement is the password of the base,
Nobility the epitaph of the noble.
See how the gilded sky is covered
With the drifting twisted shadows of the dead.

The Ice Age is over now,
Why is there ice everywhere?
The Cape of Good Hope has been discovered,
Why do a thousand sails contest the Dead Sea?

I came into this world
Bringing only paper, rope, a shadow,
To proclaim before the judgment
The voice that has been judged:

Let me tell you, world,
I—do—not—believe!
If a thousand challengers lie beneath your feet,
Count me as number thousand and one.

I don't believe the sky is blue;
I don't believe in thunder's echoes;
I don't believe that dreams are false;
I don't believe that death has no revenge.

If the sea is destined to breach the dikes
Let all the brackish water pour into my heart;
If the land is destined to rise
Let humanity choose a peak for existence again.

A new conjunction and glimmering stars
Adorn the unobstructed sky now;
They are the pictographs from five thousand years.
They are the watchful eyes of future generations.
...

TRANSLATED BY BONNIE S. MCDOUGALL
I want to go to the other bank

The river water alters the sky's colour
and alters me
I am in the current
my shadow stands by the river bank
like a tree struck by lightning

I want to go to the other bank

In the trees on the other bank
a solitary startled wood pigeon
flies towards me
...

TRANSLATED BY BONNIE S. MCDOUGALL
for Yu Luoke

Perhaps the final hour is come
I have left no testament
Only a pen, for my mother
I am no hero
In an age without heroes
I just want to be a man

The still horizon
Divides the ranks of the living and the dead
I can only choose the sky
I will not kneel on the ground
Allowing the executioners to look tall
The better to obstruct the wind of freedom

From star-like bullet holes shall flow
A blood-red dawn
...

TRANSLATED BY BONNIE S. MCDOUGALL
The sound of a guitar drifts through the air.
Cupped in my hand, a snowflake quivers lightly.
Thick patches of fog draw back to reveal
A mountain range, rolling like a melody.

I have gathered the inheritance of the four seasons.
There is no sign of man in the valley.
Picked wild flowers continue to grow,
Their flowering is their time of death.

Along the path in the primordial wood
Green sunlight flows through the slits.
A russet hawk interprets into bird cries
The mountain's tale of terror.

Abruptly I cry out,
'Hello, Bai—hua—Mountain.'
'Hello, my—child,' comes the echo
From a distant waterfall.

It was a wind within a wind, drawing
A restless response from the land,
I whispered, and the snowflake
Drifted from my hand down the abyss.
TRANSLATED BY BONNIE S. MCDOUGALL
The sound of a guitar drifts through the air.
Cupped in my hand, a snowflake quivers lightly.
Thick patches of fog draw back to reveal
A mountain range, rolling like a melody.

I have gathered the inheritance of the four seasons.
There is no sign of man in the valley.
Picked wild flowers continue to grow,
Their flowering is their time of death.

Along the path in the primordial wood
Green sunlight flows through the slits.
A russet hawk interprets into bird cries
The mountain's tale of terror.

Abruptly I cry out,
'Hello, Bai—hua—Mountain.'
'Hello, my—child,' comes the echo
From a distant waterfall.

It was a wind within a wind, drawing
A restless response from the land,
I whispered, and the snowflake
Drifted from my hand down the abyss.
...

Lovers holding pits in their mouths
make vows and delight in each other
till the underwater infant
periscopes his parents
and is born

an uninvited guest knocks at my
door, determined to go deep
into the interior of things

the trees applaud

wait a minute, the full moon
and this plan are making me nervous
my hand fluttering
over the obscure implications of the letter
let me sit in the dark
a while longer, like
sitting on a friend's heart

the city a burning deck
on the frozen sea
can it be saved? it must be saved
the faucet drip-drop drip-drop
mourns the reservoir
...

TRANSLATED BY DAVID HINTON
a child carrying flowers walks toward the new year
a conductor tattooing darkness
listens to the shortest pause

hurry a lion into the cage of music
hurry stone to masquerade as a recluse
moving in parallel nights

who's the visitor? when the days all
tip from nests and fly down roads
the book of failure grows boundless and deep

each and every moment's a shortcut
I follow it through the meaning of the East
returning home, closing death's door
...

TRANSLATED BY DAVID HINTON
wolves of music weave their way at a run
hawthorns wheeze with clandestine laughter

turning a new leaf, tide's out
young ship-captains high up on balconies
look far away through telescopes

east and west
a single fruit cut into halves

beneath a tree grown from the pit I once spit out
I've hung nets to
trap birds, and waited how many years
...

TRANSLATED BY ELIOT WEINBERGER
for Shanshan

The wave of that year
flooded the sands on the mirror
to be lost is a kind of leaving
and the meaning of leaving
the instant when all languages
are like shadows cast from the west

life's only a promise
don't grieve for it
before the garden was destroyed
we had too much time
debating the implications of a bird flying
as we knocked down midnight's door

alone like a match polished into light
when childhood's tunnel
led to a vein of dubious ore
to be lost is a kind of leaving
and poetry rectifying life
rectifies poetry's echo
...

TRANSLATED BY DAVID HINTON
a sower walks into the great hall
it's war out there, he says
and you awash in emptiness
you've sworn off your duty to sound the alarm
I've come in the name of fields
it's war out there

I walk out from that great hall
all four directions a boundless harvest scene
I start planning for war
rehearsing death
and the crops I burn
send up the wolf-smoke of warning fires

but something haunts me furiously:
he's sowing seed across marble floors
...

In father's level imagination
the persistent cries of children
finally strike against a mountain
don't panic
I walk along the thoughts of certain trees
and turn from stuttering into song

sorrow that comes from afar
is a form of power
that I use to saw tables
some people depart for love
while a palace in pursuit of storms
journeys past many kingdoms

beyond life with
furniture, fleas beat a great drum
Daoist priests practice their ascent to heaven
youth pass down the lanes
sobbing over night's logic
I achieve rest

___________________
...

in Ramallah
the ancients play chess in the starry sky
the endgame flickers
a bird locked in a clock
jumps out to tell the time

in Ramallah
the sun climbs over the wall like an old man
and goes through the market
throwing mirror light on
a rusted copper plate

in Ramallah
gods drink water from earthen jars
a bow asks a string for directions
a boy sets out to inherit the ocean
from the edge of the sky

in Ramallah
seeds sown along the high noon
death blossoms outside my window
resisting, the tree takes on a hurricane's
violent original shape
...

The wind is intimate with love
summer shimmers with imperial colors
someone fishing lonesomely measures
the earth's wounds
the chiming clock is swelling
those of you strolling through the afternoon
please join in the meaning of the age

some people bow to a piano
others carry a ladder by
sleepiness has been checked for a few minutes
only a few minutes
the sun is researching the shadow
I quaff water from a bright mirror
and spot the enemy in my mind's eye

the tenor's singing
enrages the sea like an oil tanker
at 3 A.M. I open a can
releasing those fish into the light
...

The night is rushing to perfection
I drift inside language
the musical instruments of death
are filled with ice

who sings on the crevice
of days, water turns bitter
flames hemorrhage
pouncing like pumas to the stars
there must be form
for there to be dreams

in the chill of early morning
a wide-awake bird
gets closer to the truth
while my poems and I
sink as one

February in books:
certain movements, certain shadows
...

scared out of our wits
carry lanterns chasing spring

scars gleam, cups rotate
rays of light are created
watch for that moment of bewitchery
a thief steals into the post office
letters send out shrieks

nails, oh nails
the words of this song will not be changed
firewood huddled closely
searching for an audience

searching for the heart of winter
the end of the stream
the boatman waits for all-penetrating dusk

someone has to rewrite love
...

at the end of a perfect day
those simple people looking for love
left scars on twilight

there must be a perfect sleep
in which angels tend certain
blossoming privileges

when the perfect crime happens
clocks will be on time
trains will start moving

a perfect flame in amber
war's guests
gather around it keeping warm

stage hushed, perfect moon rising
the pharmacist is preparing
a total poison of time
...

Ruhmsüchtig verdunkelt sich die Erde
Wir lesen vom Licht in einem Buch
aus Beton, wir lesen die Wahrheit

Eine goldene Bombe explodiert
Wir sind zum Leid bereit
zur Darbietung von Wunden

Archäologen werden entdecken
das Gespenst der Zeit auf einem Negativ
Ein Kind hält es in Händen und sagt nein

Die Geschichte hindert unseren Flug
der Vogel unseren Weg
das Bein unseren Traum

Wir haben uns geboren, wir
die Geburt
...