Wang Yin
Three poems translated from the Chinese by Andrea Lingenfelter
Horse
My horse heads home alone in the rain
Its coat the color of my scarred right hand
The eyes of my horse are half closed
As it walks with small steps, heading home
Drinking wine, beside the picture window of the wine shop
I see only its thin and bony silhouette
It’s heading home, its head lowered like mine when I’m silent
But so much more a gentleman than me
And I will travel far away, my eyes bloodshot
Sitting at this table with its puddles of spilled wine
Watching my horse
Heading home alone in the rain
Time of Flowers
Time of flowers, black night of glass
Icy skeletons plain to see
Broken pieces cut by the sun are coming back
Eyes without pupils slowly opening
The soul always has a place to shelter
In the lush depths of the darkness
Like an ear of wheat, a fugitive leans on
A narrow ladder, growing without a sound
Midnight bells toll mournfully
Grains of sand rustle as they dance
Tonight is yet another round of endless darkness
The city beside me lies quiet and still
For a Moment We Can Lose Consciousness of Life and Death
Starlight dims, yet even so I can see
The gleam of your lips and eyes
One of your hands clasps your knee, the other
Holds a cup of coffee, as you wait for it to cool
I lean back against a sleeping stone, listening
To the restless chafing of cicadas brushing past your back
And it’s like watching you drive in reverse
Down a narrow alley after the rain
Maybe these wrinkled clothes need ironing again
Maybe the hand on summer’s clock needs to be reset
The design floating in the coffee
Is a resolution neither you nor I would ever expect
This world is too broken to restore, and we
Are only here by chance, lingering briefly in this interval
For a moment we can lose consciousness of life and death
As long as the lamps in the passageway are burning bright