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I am just going to take a few seconds to provide the readers with a brief introduction that should be read before getting into these poems. Both poets are migrant workers. As such, they come from the vast rural areas of China but spend a great part of the year working in the cities as manual laborers. The Lunar New Year (which is incorrectly referred to in the West as the Chinese New Year), this year fell on 25 January and is one of the very rare occasions in which migrant workers can go back to their place of origin to reunite with their families. This year the traditional celebration coincided with the outbreak of the epidemic. Traditionally people spend one week at home for this festivity, “the Golden Week”. After the announcement of the national emergency on 20 January and the lockdown of the Hubei province, where the city of Wuhan is located, on the 23rd, the vacation time was extended first by one week, and then until further notice. Many workers made it back to the cities no earlier than mid-March. It is important to keep these facts in mind as it will be shown clearly in the poems, that there was an intersection between two elements: i.e., the return of the migrant workers to countryside (the birthplace of many of them), with all its charge of nostalgia and contemplation, and the raging of the virus. Both elements combined and blended with creative process of the authors, producing an original and fascinating encounter in their poetry.
Rao Jinhui 饶金辉
Temp Worker
on the steps of the twelfth month
I wrap and press
the bitterness of a whole year
noiselessly I store it in my heart
hidden in a corner
with fashionable clothes
I replace the same old uniform
the suitcase I drag along
is chock full of city fragments
scattered around
the happiness
I take back home
waits apprehensively
the next departure.
6 January, 2020
- The last month of the lunar year.
劳务工
踩着腊月的脚步
把一年的辛酸
捆紧 压实
悄悄藏在心上的
某个角落
用时尚的装扮
替换掉单调的工装
拉在手上的行李箱
塞满了城市的
零零碎碎
带着回家的
喜悦
忐忑着
下一个离别
2020.1.6
In the Countryside Escaping the Epidemic
on a country lane
an old ox is lingering on his way back
without a mask getting in the way
he casually chews
the languor of time
the smoke of fireplaces at sunset
like warning fires
propagates
an ancient signal
the sun rises as it always does
flowers bloom like they did before
and mountains and rivers
and wine and poetry
The landscape here is beyond compare (*)
aside from the lengthening of the journey
I don’t notice
many anomalies
Only the racket made by a mother and her son,
our neighbors, fighting over
throwing the firecrackers
Inadvertently
rips up the silence of the countryside
19 February 2020
(*) Lines quoted from a 1934 ‘landscape’ poem by Mao Zedong titled “Huichang”.
乡间的小路
走着晚归的老牛
没有口罩的束缚
肆意嚼着
慵懒的时光
黄昏的炊烟
像示警的烽火
传递着
古老的信号
太阳照常升起
花儿照样开放
有山有水
有酒有诗
风景这边独好
除了推迟的行程
我并没有感觉到
太多的异样
只有邻居母子俩
为了要不要放鞭炮
而争吵的声音
不经意间
划破了乡间的寂静
2020.2.19
An Old Slogan on a Village Wall
“Ten Thousand Years!”
at the end it turned out to be only a sublime
wish of humanity
but those who succeeded in living
and managed to escape
old age
infirmity
Illness
death
those who once
would yell “Ten thousand Years!”
as they marched squared off in columns
with devotion
are now gone having followed the “Ten Thousand Years”
only a stained wall
still keeps
yesterday’s traces
scarlet red in their time, and now swine blood red
the slogan “Ten thousand Years”
clear as it was then.
24 February 2020
The locution wansui 万岁 can be translated with “Long Live”, but literally means “Ten Thousand Years”. Historically it was the greeting devotedly addressed to the Emperor, but starting from the early twentieth century it took on a more ‘popular’ meaning and was chanted in the great mass movements not as a wish for the sovereign, but rather as a slogan. During the Cultural Revolution (1966-1976) these words were commonly painted on outside and indoor walls, in large, rigorously red characters and were meant to be addressed to Chairman Mao Zedong and the Chinese Communist Party. Even today it is not rare to see this slogan painted in country villages and some urban areas, though the writing is faded by time.
遗留在农村墙壁上的标语
“万岁”
终究只是人类
一个美好的愿望
生而为人
有谁能逃脱
老
弱
病
死
那些曾经高呼
“万岁”的人
正排着队
虔诚地
追随“万岁”的脚步而去
只有斑驳的墙壁
还残留着
昨日的印迹
从鲜红到猪血红
“万岁”的标语
依旧清晰
2020.2.24
Rao Jinhui 饶金辉 Born in 1983 in Hubei, a province of Central China, he has been working for years in the heavily industrial southern part of the country. He belongs to what he calls the “lowest stratum” of Chinese society. Quoting him, from “time to time” he likes to put into words the facts that he witnesses and the emotions that they elicit from him.
Ni Zhou 逆舟
Distance from the Coronavirus
a random cough
leads you to suspicion
even a sneeze
leads you to suspicion
yesterday the neighbor had a sore throat
he was overtaken by deadly anxiety
even the tiniest problem
can lead you to suspect
it is that damned virus
we have been suspecting for a month
that the virus is hiding in a dark corner
and could catch us
unaware and
defenseless
与新冠病疫的距离
偶尔咳一声
就疑心
打一个喷嚏
也疑心
昨天邻居喉咙痛
紧张得要命
身体只要有一点点不适
总是疑心
那个该死的病疫
一个月以来
总疑心病毒躲在某个黑角
落我们手无寸铁
又毫不知情
Disinfestation
because of the new coronavirus
the village has arranged a disinfestation
trees are being disinfected
plants are being disinfected
houses are being disinfected
the air is being disinfected
truth be told, no one has been infected
in our village
but because on cell phones and TV
All the talk is only about coronavirus
it seems like the virus were already here
in the village
消毒
因为防控新冠肺炎
村里组织消毒
给树消毒
给草消毒
给房子消毒
给空气消毒
其实，我们村子没有
新冠肺炎患者
因为手机上、电视里
全都是新冠肺炎的消息
感觉那些病毒也来到了
村里
Changsha, Today
today I came to Changsha
and realized that the streets
are not those streets
the houses are not those houses
not even the sky is that sky
and the people are not those people
I find myself cautious towards all these things and people
I took no notice of before
today I am leery
and they too are leery towards me
we keep an eye on one another
we hold our breath
as though something had happened to us
the world has grown weaker
此时，长沙
今天，我来到长沙
发现街道
不是那街道
房子不是那房子
天空也不是那样的天空
人群不只是人群
这些之前我从不注意的事物和人
此时，我对他们小心翼翼
他们对我应该也是小心翼翼
我们相互小心，屏住呼吸仿
佛经历了什么
世界变得脆弱
Ni Zhou 逆舟 Born in 1973, in the south central part of Hunan province, he identifies with the vast number of migrant workers that move from the countryside to the city, as laborers. He has been working for several years in construction in Changsha, the capital city of Hunan. In his free time he writes “worker’s poetry”.
