Poems by A Hua
Translated from the Chinese by Xuelan Su
Chanting the Buddha’s Name to a Horse
A market street’s still part of the town square.
Long ago ten wide lanes surrendered themselves to the pedestrians’ feet walking there.
You, passing by with your open umbrellas, don’t take this dreary song to heart
and don’t knock on my windows or door…
and I won’t tell you about these sudden tears —
their sum of salt.
Sunny days no longer delight, on rainy days I’m sad.
I’ve learned to say nothing about what’s happened in the past.
Each fall, ripe berries drop in heaps.
Even the smallest holds a special kind of honey-sweet.
I don’t envy the berries’ warm paradise.
I thumb through the Sutras, chant the Buddha’s name to a horse.
I touch the sacred with both hands and so, receive its warmth.
Like the sweeping mountains and great rivers, I and all of us
pursue a solitary course.
给马念佛
一条闹市还在广场的中心
十条大街早就散在各自的脚下
撑伞的路人啊，不要驻足聆听悲凉的歌声
也不要敲我的门窗
我不会告诉你，突然的泪水里
盐的分量
不会晴天欢喜，雨天忧伤
经过的世事，让我学会缄口不辩
每个暮秋，都有无数的浆果落地
连最小的一粒，也有自己的甜蜜
我不羡慕它们都有温暖的天堂
我翻读经书，给马念佛
一双手，因触摸经文而得到暖意
像大山与江河，我与世人
正分开修行
Half A Moon
In Ta’ergen* I saw half a moon.
Beyond the fence…
moonlight like water, tree shadows rippling.
I say “half a moon” like that
maybe because of that rose, just in that moment,
awash in its beauty.
Maybe I just thought, saying it that way,
the sadness would stop.
Secrets are private things, held in silence. But, in Ta’ergen
I want to say your name aloud.
R, I cherish that half moon
from the center of my heart…the half moon that rises slowly
amid tears.
If you’re the wooden fish,** I’m the prayer beads.
Last night I dreamed you sent me a letter. In our separate loneliness
there is unspeakable pain.
Though, if we ever meet again, there’ll be no need to cry.
—
*a town in Helongjiang, western China
**a hollow, wooden percussion instrument, like a small gong or bell, carved with a fish scales motif, and used to keep time while chanting. It may also help monks stay awake; fish represent wakefulness because, it’s believed, fish never sleep.
半个月亮
在塔尔根，我看到半个月亮
隔着栅栏
月光如水，树影移动
我这样说到半个月亮
也许是因为那朵蔷薇，正好被它的美
所渲染
也许我只想在这样的表述里
停止难过
秘密是一个人守口如瓶的隐私，在塔尔根
我还是要这样，说出你的名字
R, 那珍藏在我心中的
半个月亮，那泪水里缓缓升起的
半个月亮
你若像木鱼，我亦似念珠
昨日梦中你有来信，各自的寂寥里
有不能言说之痛
他世若还能相遇，不必泣不成声
A Hua is contemporary poet living in Shandong, China. There, she is widely published, having several collections of her own, including Cattails and What Makes My Heart Swell. The original Chinese versions of these poems appear in Cattails, (2016, Shandong Publishing House of Literature and Art Co., Ltd).
Xuelan Su is a Chinese literary translator in Seattle, Washington, USA. Her translations of A Hua are published in Alchemy, Lunch Ticket, and Ballast, and an upcoming issue of Iterant.
Table of Contents for A Formal Feeling