Poetry by Liuyu Chen
—
Anger
a cloud holding painful rain
waiting for the lightning
愤怒
一朵云忍受着痛苦的雨
等待着那闪电
—
Bleecker Street
trash bags
saggy,
motionless
eyeballs
staring into
darkness
a rose
half red
half out of
a loosened
one near
a lamppost
warmed by
a little
dog’s
pee
布里克街道
垃圾袋
松垮，
不动的
眼珠
凝视着
黑暗
一枝玫瑰
一半红色，
一半伸出
一只袋子
靠近
一盏路灯
被一只
小狗的尿
温暖
—
When the Last Two Homeless Men Bade Farewell for the Winter
When the crippled trains underground are exhausted from
chasing each other. Half block of trash bags cuddle on the margin
and ponder. Hungry couples snuff moaning cigarettes, ready
to devour each other. A roaming soul leans on a crutch,
knocks and knocks door after door,
gets slammed out.
When lamps shut their eyelids in the dazing window.
When neon lights reach out their bare fingers, salving cool curbs
where a group of college students shove and shout,
beer bottles shattering into broken
commitment.
当最后两个流浪汉在冬天告别
当跛脚的地铁疲惫于互相追逐
半个街道的垃圾袋相拥，沉思在路沿
饥饿的情侣捻灭呻吟的烟头，开始吞噬对方
一个流浪的灵魂倚靠在竹杖上
挨家挨户地敲门
却被关在门外
当台灯在眩晕的窗户里闭上眼睑
当霓虹灯伸出裸露的指头
抚慰冰凉的路沿，那里
有一群大学生你推我嚷，
啤酒瓶摔成一地破碎的
誓言
—
To My Hair
I grew taller, closer to the sky; you grew
longer and heavier. Once in a while I cut
your desire to reach the ground. One day,
I ran to the hairdresser, steaming you for hours
until you came out sweating into red fire.
The other day, I ran away from my homeland
passing my mountains, rivers and sky.
When I landed on the other side of the earth,
a man speaking another language asked me:
What’s your hair color? I looked at you,
red over your body but your root shouts:
Black!
致我的头发
我越长越高，离天空越来越近；而你
越长越长，每隔一段时间我便把你
将垂到地面的欲望剪断。一天，
我跑到发型师那里，把你蒸了好几个小时
直到你出来汗流成红色的火焰
另一天，我跑离了我的家乡
越过我的山脉，溪流和天空
当我降落在地球的另一端，
一个人用另外一种语言问我：
你的头发是什么颜色？我看着你，
浑身通红，但是你的根喊叫着：
黑色！
—
Liuyu Chen was born on January 23rd, 1990 in Yongkang, Zhejiang Province, China. She got her B.A. degree in Chinese Language and Literature from Beijing Language and Culture University. She is now pursuing a MFA degree in poetry at New York University.
—
Featured Image photograph by E.B. Bartels, www.ebbartels.com.
