Yang Lian: Reading at The Prague Writers' Festival

Darknesses

1

green leaves always forgottenwhen　　windows are toogreen
like every pebble roughly thrown by spring
hitting springitself

birds　　stillwearing arid skates of blue
though old dog eyes are tired out

no need to translate the riverbank’sslapping
the aesthetics of death　　incitethe swarming of the flowers

fields alone　　cantolerate the furious heart
fleeing still further　　Aprilsniffs out blood
in sunlight the wood crouches behind us
knowledgethat can’t be taken away　　ittakes away the dead
reciting a poem　　adeepened stillness

the other world is still thisworld　　darkness would say

2

a storyless person　　escapesinto a day
with a gesture of escaping from the day

a pastless person　　haspassed away
seagulls worked into an abstract book by the evening

locked in the isolation ward　　whoisn’t crazy
delusions　　morelike fragments than flesh

fragments of glass　　shatteringskeleton heard on the periphery
fragments of rottingtongue　　twilight washesaway, just washes away

rats squeal　　shrillsqueals as light stamps on itself
each day startled awake by eachday

with one black night　　apersonless story
still won’t come true told twice　　darknesswould say

3

each shower of rain makes you sit atyour end
rain rapping on the roof　　tinyanimal steps
move you motionlessly into the darkness
inmotionless weather you need others to sleep
to sleep is toleave　　the world of therainy season leaves
once darkness has passed through you like athoroughbred through the fire
hear inside you　　silverywhite stitches everywhere
stitching a worn-out windcheater offlesh

every shower falls only on this bareground
when you begin reading from your end　　apage of black explanation
unweariedly swaps someone else for nextday
forges an address　　thegraveyard street still muddier
finds fault with this hand　　beggarshuddle together in mutual hatred
making a city with nowhere toshelter from the rain
a flock of soaking crows collides insideyou
breeds different crimes with identical faces　　darknesswould say

4

but darkness didn't say athing　　between dark anddark
only this spring

kite’s bones hang in the treetops
bark shines　　loverspass kissing under the tree
pollen in the lungs beating lastyear's gong
a bright red clown　　alwaysmakes children run wild

greener and greener the teeth that chewlittle hands
old newspaper lawn　　handsover scissors of flame
so April　　seesthe river flow like a mirage
the current's forgotten colours　　seeus as mirages
once the dove's call is burned black　　allthe stars
are broken toys stuffed in a pitch-black floodgate

in darkness there's always a bodydrifting back to the place of no dreaming

even we fear　　onlyfear our own terror
darkness doesn't say a thing　　everywalker on the streets
starts muttering to himself
darkness　　islistening to the orange-red darkness of lipstick

a spring school always makes usignorant
memory　　wholives in it is a ghost
but sickness attenuates the look
when amirror’s worn on the face　　theocean digests a dead fish
being vomited is still endless chatter

darknesses are too many　　forlife ever to have got there
spring walks out of us　　onlythen　　is spring silent atlast

From Where The SeaStands Still

Translated from theChinese by Brian Holton, Bloodaxe Books, 1999