胡志敏 / Hu Zhimin Poem by Zheng Xiaoqiong

These years I am immersed in an immense era
feeling weak and frail allowing youthful life to be
covered by gloomy negations and ignorance
She died with the wounds of the times
with her three brothers and parents
who quarreled over her compensation Her corpse no one cares
no one mourns no one weeps for
only the icy cold figure of her reparation keeps her company
Hu Zhimin: twenty-three died of alcohol poisoning
I still have vivid memories of her
my co-worker who became a prostitute
at a hotel her innocent smiles loud voice
worldly experience She told me she had seen
too many so-called truths of life standing
on the threshold of reality such as desires and flesh
She was never ashamed of talking about her occupation
or her plans for life Many young women
from her home village entered this ancient profession
the newly married or sisters or aunts and sister-in-laws
leave together for Nanjing or Guangdong…
At hair salons in dim rooms she was beautiful
At hotels high-end places her face showed
happiness… We seldom saw each other we had the
same background yet belonged to two different
worlds In this city in this moment
two people met by chance in life then parted
each going her own way in a hurry
not knowing what fate would bring "She is dead!"
said a countryman of hers to me and described
the scene of her death saying how much money she had sent home
how wonderful her family's newly-built house how her brothers used
the money she'd earned with her flesh bought a house and set up shop
in a small town
saying after her death her brothers didn't even bring
her ashes home to be buried at their ancestral tomb
because she sold her flesh filth it would be bad for the family feng shui