Zheng Danyi
Zheng Danyi nació en 1963. Es quizá el poeta más leído de su generación. De niño trabajó en in ingenio azucarero. Su presencia y penetración entre el público chino creció durante los años noventa, cuando realizó numerosas lecturas de poesía en universidades, cafés, bares y pubs. En 1999 Zheng Danyi se exilió en Hong Kong, donde creció su presencia en los círculos poéticos internacionales.
Su poesía se ha caracterizado por el empleo de metáforas nuevas y extravagantes así como por un tono de cinismo, crítica y desparpajo donde la meta fundamental es la innovación.
Pero amor
pero amor ama sólo tres minutos borracha en la borrachera, el abandono
nada tiene que ver con el vino o con cómo la copa de los sobrevivientes blande
reflejos
de dagas y sables, nada que ver con la luz de la luna
láctea pasión, la aprieto desde la ventana sur, luego salgo hacia
la norte dejando nada sino el denso aroma del sudor y el regocijo,
nada que ver con peces saltando en la bahía, y
la canoa en tu corazón
desafiando un domingo de aire y olas, nada que ver
con aire y olas –, junto a ti
aquel extraño con un corazón quebrado
murmurando en sueños-
ame ayer en la noche, por amor al amor, amé incluso
el sueño de tu mantel floral, y
y qué renuencia a despertarme al otro día –pero amor
llega puntual sin falta, el amor es sólo una visión distante
que nada tiene que ver con la vista
Wings of Summer
夏天的翅膀
by
Zheng Danyi
(Translated by Luo Hui, University of Toronto)
1. Dedication
This is to you: bleeding gold of April and May. To you: July
The devil’s wheel, electrified sky, and
Extinguished fire. To you—
A bent knife, an odd metaphor, a spilt
Bottle of wine, my last bit of wealth, I give to you
Gem, poison, broken hell, all to you
Even if you are a paradise, a paper moon
I’d still give—to you. Even if
It’s a ruse, fool me again. Even if
It’s an umbrella that won’t close, money already spent
Even if it’s a stone faking jade, or a regressed fish
Climbing the stairs of despair. Even if
It’s a sack of dull potatoes buried in the depth of time
Even if it’s a mud boat thrown to the sea, or a plague, a shower
A derailed train heavily panting
I’d still give—to you! To you: a collapsed
Homeland, an autumn in free flesh
Or after too much waiting, a jumping spring—now lying paralyzed
Like a belt tired from whipping, an empty promise
An expired pill—this is to you, all to you
A halted action, serrated blades, pain
Already forgotten. And here is more:
A broken clock—my heart—crying, trying to stop
The clock, my last paradise, take it!
Even if you are ruins, or hell… I’ve given, to you
2. The World I See is Always the Back
Now wait, let me face the front of your soul
I want to know, where to find water
For no reason, I want to know how you became my illness
It’s the husky gold that leads me moaning here
What is this, my darling? And what is this, my dear?
I can’t predict how the fog, years later, would travel
Between these lines. For no reason, I can’t predict
Which wind would blow it away, then ring the doorbell of my seclusion
Once again, we suffer shame and sorrow; once again, are you
My fiery part? Now wait, let us
Go through life on foot, like a lamp
Wanting to light other lamps, a man wanting to be a people
But the world I see is always the back. Oh, my harmonica
The tiny trembling heart, and you
The noble spirit hiding inside. Harmonica, please forgive
My confessing voice. Oh, sing for the one who deserted autumn
The heart we break is a heaven, and I see all the roses
Approaching her. Now wait,
Look at this man—thin, pale, mixing flesh into voice! Oh
For the one who deserted happiness, despair is the luxury of desperation
3. No, This Isn’t True
All winter I’ve been waiting for you. But no, this isn’t true
What’s become of you? Wind? Cloud? Or the center of a tragic storm?
How can I believe that yesterday
The wine in the wind illumined your fractured star
No, this isn’t true. When the fire in the stove dies, when night falls
I can still see roses, bowing in praise
Embracing a heart. Ah, now at nineteen, they
Pull out their little prisms, waving, echoing the murmuring of summer
Leave it—to paper, to pen, to the most painful fate
I decide to forget. No, this isn’t true
For fire has reached fire, over the limbs, through the crowds
For we, with tears in eyes, have seen overcast skies suddenly brighten
Ah, fallen leaves in my heaven, coldness at the heart of the sun
I won’t sing those light songs any more. No, this isn’t true
For how can I believe that, sadly, in you, woman of all women
Love has vanished? Yet, you still cruise my grievous blood
You still enter my misty dreams. Oh, enter now
Goddess of my heart! When winter ends, let the swallows bring you
Back! But I say, no, even this isn’t true
For you had never reached my broken heart
4. Crystal
They say your fate is clear and fair, then why do I see
All the splitting rays? Why do we huddle, wings to wings?
Ah, closer, your fiery part. Closer still, my precious one
Let me, hard and steadily, look at you deeper inside
Let me see you grow, from head to toe, from ice
To water, running to me, until I discover
In you, the star of my afterlife, leading a sky full of starry lights
Until finally, I see my own face, passing through summer
Passing through fall, traveling back and forth on different roads
Sighing high and low in different rooms. Ah, why are you a mirror?
Following me, forever a happiness—fervent, desolate
Simple, sad—changing faces to exchange with m
A day? Or a door that opens a flower, or perhaps
Last June that opened this fragrant chapter. But I—
I want to give you other decorations. Ah, look
In the fleeting summer, a rose has all her redness inside
She has decorated you, and I her. Ah, with the past fading like smoke
I want to get rid of decorative poses and prose! We
Would be simple then, peaceful, and finally
Immaculate. And I—I would forget those resentful faces
5. The Wings of Summer
When all but one summer day is left thundering here
I lean inward, and see you, wings folded in a loose shirt
Walking on my clean floor. Evening breezes are gentle
And cool, in a place autumn wind does not reach
Where are you from? Like a fireball, you make the metals in me shine
And tinkle, now left, now right… We hover
Over a crowd of strangers, in circles and spirals, … Ah, summer
Happiness attacking my heart, how do you enchant me so much?
Oh, higher, let us watch like birds. Look, a world
Of tiny hearts, wriggling. Look, there—
Our fated homeland. Ah, summer wants to ripen all the fruits
Below! Look, the fall wind is climbing over the snow mountains
Ah, why aren’t you the grand dream of a spider, all your life
Wearing ill-fitting clothes? Ah, why aren’t you a butterfly
Within a butterfly? In your warm body, there is sadness cold as water
Hot will turn cold. Ah, in the glimmer of your fire, I want to put on
A pair of summer wings! Following you, like a fireball
Collecting all the fleeting rays of the summer day, to make a song
Oh, my wings, see me leave the ground, elevate, choose a
Direction. Why do I find in your name the moon of my life?
6. Love Letters
Ah, orators of happiness, our decadent half
I confide everything in you, like lips
Holding petals of lips. I confide everything in you
As dusk passes by a fragrant rosy face
Ah, paper of tenderness, how shall I begin?
With a little sigh. If I misspell a word
I’ll let you decide, Summer! We belong
To us… Our beautiful names always make me dizzy
Ah, grant me evening wind, the gentlest of all winds. Grant me
Chaos, the chaos of crackling fire. Ah, I am willing
Willing to be your hostage, gently singing and dancing
Waiting for the timely appearance of the beautiful spirit
Some people we missed are forever gone. Some pages we missed
Are never read again. Ah, If I misuse a word
I’ll let you decide, Summer!
The first page in our lives always makes us dizzy
Ah quick, keep our secret agreement, in flesh and blood. Quick
We, ambassadors of happiness, are here! Quick, open me up
Right in the middle! Ah quick, my reader, look—
The drowsy hour of dusk is dark. Read on, the inside is darker still
7. But Time Will Take It All Away
The only night, and many nights like it—I hear fire
Running in a pure clean body… shining on you
And shining on my flyleaf, all night through! I would
Be lost, like a nearsighted orange that has broken apart
You would be blind. Ah, my interior—guess how beautiful it is
A fine afternoon, leaves falling over leaves falling…
Ah, let me rewrite! Guess how beautiful it is
A bud after a shower, seeing its own heart lightly open
You before me, I before the autumn wind. Oh, what a night
Has suddenly fallen to rest in my startled garb?
Oh, who are you and why am I afraid? I am
You. Yes, my gentle sister, but time will take it all away
But time will take it all away! Autumn would sink deeper and deeper
As my candles would. Would I feel pain
Like the lost swallow flying into darkness? Sorrow will be
There… so will death. But time will take it all away
Give me back my freedom and let me remember. In my dream, you
Are my little ghost. Ah, the only night, and many nights like it!
No more fainting. There, moonlight falls on the book leaves
But even that, my gentle sister, time will take away
8. Maybe, Nothing Really Matters
Then swallow back the spit blood, change the swans
Back to crows. Maybe, nothing really matters
Then let me burn down the planted crops
And return the fruit peels to their broken branches
Let my dead horse drink its fill, and take the crushed grapes
Back home. Make the fallen leaves fall, the sore throat
Even sorer, emptiness forever empty, and the homeless
Still homeless. Maybe, nothing really matters
Then let the assembled machines fall apart, and healed wounds
Reopen! Let the sick become sicker, the loud even louder
The beautiful more beautiful! The rotten rots more!
Oh, let everything go, let everything come!
Knock out the teeth, shave the head, replace all the insides
What must collapse will collapse; what’s poisonous poisons itself
Let me tell you, you are no other but destruction itself
Maybe, nothing really matters! Then
Let the singing hearts break! Let all the souls wear out!
But you, let me catch my breath. Oh Melancholy
Teach me how to be cruel! Since darkness
Rules the world, would I go on to punish a rose?
9. Where Do We Find the Vanished Years?
Retarded salt adds to melancholy. Oh, where
Do we find the vanished years? Take out wind, take out rain
Take out all the old stuff in our fate. You, where do I find you
As you dip your hair deep in the poems from our past
You certainly have, somewhere, smelled that smell
Morning’s fingernails? Or hoofs passing by night?
One orange, two metaphors. Gentle wind still brings drizzling rain
But the summer day! The summer day has long fallen apart
An address, once lost, will no longer be visited
An object, once broken, will quickly become something else
A vanished face will reappear in other faces
Oh look, the hands sharing gold have also shared jade
But, where do we find the vanished years? Open
Your melon, close your album, see autumn wind pour into the tower
It, too, is looking for itself, till its limbs turn red, and leaves yellow
Everywhere. Oh, the fallen leaves from last autumn are still lying
In the yellowing books. As you truly smell the smell of old days
Mellow and fragrant, as the water from last night is sounding again
Sad and dreamy! She looks at me, I at you
Oh, tell me, where do we find the vanished years?
10. Goodbye, Stony Village
It’s time to go. In Stony Village, a disaster seems to be falling
Sadly, the neighbors look up to the sky. The dogs, howling and sniffing
The door, I can’t push open. Oh, Stony Village, autumn leaves have fallen
It’s time to go. In Stony Village, a disaster seems to be falling
Will I come back? Loving, singing the song of farewell
Among the scattered cottages, in Stony Village, I put out the light
The stars are still whispering above, oh please, don’t be sad for me
Will I come back? Loving, singing the song of farewell
Goodbye, Stony Village, I am wind, a wanderer who’s passing by
Oh you, my flowerpot, my clean sheets, with happiness you
Waited for me, and for me, you lit a little fire in your body. Oh
Goodbye, Stony Village, I am wind, a wanderer who’s passing by
Oh, some other days, I will think of the fire in your winter stove
Like children, we fought, we took walks as beautiful as the stars
We quarreled, like children, we cried, and bore up sickness and hunger
Oh, some other days, I will think of the fire in your winter stove
Wind is tugging at my clothes. Stony Village, I’m returning to my fate
I have delayed too long. I have broken too many mirrors
Now I’ve said my prayer. Come, say goodbye, my dear ones
Wind is tugging at my clothes. Stony Village, I’m returning to my fate
No hay comentarios:
Publicar un comentario