Within This Open Bottle of Life…Lulëkuqet në Zemër -Yuan Changming

116f4a2b3c3f0f52cd379e6c4f21b2ba_400x400Yuan Changming

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Yuan Changming, nine-time Pushcart nominee and author of seven chapbooks (including Dark Phantasms [Flutter Press, Nov, 2017]), grew up in rural China, started to learn the English alphabet in Shanghai as an ESL student at age nineteen, and published monographs on translation before moving to Canada. With a PhD in English from the University of Saskatchewan, Yuan currently edits Poetry Pacific with Allen Yuan in Vancouver; credits include Best of the Best Canadian Poetry: Tenth Anniversary Edition, BestNewPoemsOnline, Poetry in Voice, Threepenny Review and 1,369 others across 40 countries.

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Welcome to Mearteka Literay with five poems dear Yuan. Poem Poppies is translated into albanian language for readers.

罂粟花

 

每朵都是

一对中间割破的

圆唇

在秋风中

淌着鲜血

 

无以为吻

无人与说

除了些许对穿着血裙的

过去的回忆

浓浓涂抹在

心胸附近

 

见刊于《海外诗刊》2013年3月4日

 

Poppies

Each is a pair
Of round lips
Cut right in the middle
Bleeding boldly
Against the autumn wind

Nothing to kiss
Nobody to talk with
Except some small recollections
Of blood-skirted pasts
Painted thickly
Close to the heart

[First published in Overseas Chinese Poetry Magazine (March 2013)]

Into Albanian Language (SH. A)

Lulëkuqet

Secila është një çift
Me buzë të rrumbullakëta
Priteni  drejt e në mes
Fluturimin me guxim e merr

Një kuqësi e lëngëshme
Kundër erës së vjeshtore

Asgjë për ta puthur
Askush nuk flet me askend
Përveç disa kujtimeve të vogla
Nga e kaluara e skajshme e përgjakur
Pikturuar me thellësi
Afër zemrës

 

Changming-Yuan-author-photo-sm

海鸟

仿佛来自天堂
一只雪白的雏鸥飞扑直下
要用它那闪亮的小喙
把整个大海叼起
此时,海啸伸出它所有的拳头
在水沫般的黑暗中
抗议大地的噪动
而海岸上似乎没人
在那儿站立,在那儿观看

见刊于《海外诗刊》2013年3月4日

 

Seabird

 

As if straight from heaven

A young snowy seagull charges down

Trying to pick up the entire ocean

With its bold beak

Just when the tsunami raises

All its fierce fists

To protect against earth’s agitation

In foamy darkness

Where no one seems to stand

On the beach, watching

 

[First published in Overseas Chinese Poetry Magazine (March 2013)]

 

在这开口瓶里

 

每只蜜蜂都死于

冲向光明的霎那

 

因为逃往黑暗

苍蝇们都活了下来

甚至更加繁盛

 

如果

如果空瓶倒转呢?

 

见刊于《合澜海》2014年秋季期

 

Within This Open Bottle

 

Every bee dies

While charging towards light

 

All flies survive

Even thrive

By fleeing into darkness

 

What

What if the empty bottle rotates

 

 

[First published in Helanhai (Autumn 2014)]

 

等待

 

有乘客们漫长的等待

等那绕道而延误的公车

还有那冬草的等待

 

有传说中狮王的等待

等着扑咬真实幼小的斑马

还有深藏于噩梦中夏日的等待

 

有窗棂上兰花的等待

未知矿里钻石的等待

还有你所站所视之处的等待

 

还有黑暗的等待

等着你将其压缩成文字

并将之薄薄地撒在空白纸上

 

不象冬天的星星将光芒把持在光年里

你完成写作之后的等待

还有更加漫长的等待

 

见刊于《新大陆诗刊》第133期

 

Awaiting

 

There is a long wait of the passengers

For the detouring and delayed bus

And the wait of the wintry grasses

 

The wait of the legendary lion king

Before it preys upon a real baby zebra

And the wait of the summer sun deep in the nightmare

 

The wait of the orchid on the window ledge

The wait of the diamond in an unknown mine

And the wait where you stop and watch

 

And there is a wait of this darkness

Which you are going to compress into words

A wait that is to spread out thin on the blank paper

 

Unlike winter stars holding their light in light-years

The wait after you finish writing

And the longer wait then

 

[First published in New Continental Poetry (Issue 133); its English version first appeared in Dalhousie Review, and was selected for inclusion in Best Canadian Poetry (2012).]

上坟:献给袁宏启

 

年初,我把您的骨灰

埋在奶奶的坟边

(保她平安,如您生前所愿)

我打开您自买的骨灰坛偷看了一眼

但见您最大的一片骨殖

在元月的风中闪闪烁烁

粉色的,就像一块火炭

 

现在,我离您实在太远

不能像其他儒家孝子一般

到大锅顶您的坟前去祭奠

点香,烧冥钱,放长鞭

但我还是领着妻儿面朝东边

磕了三个响头,同时遥见

一朵红云飘飘然然

象一只充气的鸟儿振翅飞旋

在地平线上,在晚霞之间

不知那可是您的魂灵

还彷徨在天地之间?

 

瞧,那鸟嘴里叼的是什么

您的传家宝,还是我们的姓字袁?

 

见刊于美国《常青藤》诗刊第十六期

 

Tomb Visiting: For Yuan Hongqi 

 

Last year, before burying your ashes

Right beside Grandma’s grave site

(To guard her peace, as you had wished)

I opened your urn for a peek

And found your biggest bone chip

Glistening against the January wind

As pink as a piece of charcoal

 

Now, too far to attend your anniversary

Like every other good Confucian son

Burning joss sticks and fake money

Lighting a huge pile of firecrackers

Before your tombstone, on Big Wok Peak

But I did make three loud kowtows

Towards the east, and in so doing

I saw a little rosy cloud drifting around

Like an inflated bird beating its wings

Along the horizon, amid evening glows

And wondered whether that’s your spirit

Still lingering between earth and heaven

 

What was it tightly holding in its beak:

A heirloom, or simply our family name?

 

[First published in Evergreen (Issue 16)]

 

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