Dayan River, My Nanny
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Author: Ai Qing
Dayan River, is my nanny.
Her name is the name of the village where she was born,
She was a child bride,
The Dayan River, is my nanny.
I am the son of the landlord;
and also the son of the River Dayan, who grew up
by eating the milk of the River Dayan.
The Dayan River nourishes her family by nourishing me,
and I, who was nourished by eating your milk,
O Dayan River, my nanny.
The Dayan River, the snow I see today reminds me of you:
Your grass-covered grave pressed by the snow,
The dead wafers on the gable end of your closed home,
Your one-square-foot garden that has been allotted,
The moss-covered stone chairs in front of your door,
The Dayan River, the snow I see today reminds me of you.
The Dayan River, the snow I see today reminds me of you.
The Dayan River, the snow I see today reminds me of you. I think of you.
You took me in your arms and caressed me with your big, thick palms;
after you built the fire,
after you patted the charcoal dust from your apron,
after you tasted the rice cooked,
after you put the dark bowl of sauce on the dark table,
after you mended your sons' clothes torn by the thorns of the hillside,
after you mended your son's clothes torn by the thorns of the hillside,
after you mended your son's clothes torn by the thorns of the hillside,
and you mended the sons' clothes torn by the thorns of the hillside.
After you wrapped your children's hands from the woodchipper,
after you pinched the lice from your children's shirts,
after you picked up the first egg of the day,
you took me in your arms and caressed me with your big, thick palms.
I am the son of a landowner,
and after I had eaten all the milk of your great weir,
I was taken back to my own home by the parents who bore me.
Ah, Dayan River, why do you cry?
I am now a new guest in the house of my parents!
I touched the red lacquered furniture,
I touched the golden pattern on my parents' bed,
I stared at the plaque on the gable end, which I didn't recognize as "Tianlunshulue,"
I touched the silk and shell buttons of my new clothes,
I looked at the unknown child in my mother's arms. I looked at my unknown sister in my mother's arms,
I sat on a painted kangstool with a fire bowl,
I ate rice that had been polished three times,
but I was so coy!
I was a new guest in the house of my parents, who had given birth to me.
The Dayan River, for the sake of life,
After she had run out of her lotion,
she began to labor with the arms that had held me;
with a smile, she washed our clothes,
with a smile, she carried a basket of vegetables to the frozen pond at the edge of the village,
with a smile, she sliced turnips with a shard of ice,
with a smile, she cut the radish with a shard of ice,
with a smile, she was a good friend to my parents.
With a smile on her face, she hollowed out the wheat lees that the pigs ate with her hands,
With a smile on her face, she fanned the fire of the stewing stove,
With a smile on her face, she carried the dustpan to the square,
and dried the soybeans and the wheat,
The river Dayan, for the sake of life,
After she had run out of lotion,
she carried me in her arms,
and labored on. Labored.
Da Yan He, who loved her breast child dearly,
was busy slicing the sugar of winter rice for him during the festivals,
used to walk quietly to her house at the edge of the village for his sake,
and went to her side and called her "Mom" for his sake,
Da Yan He, who painted him in big red and green colors,
was a great man, and he was a good man. Weir River, for his sake, would put his red and green painting of Guan Yunchang
on the wall by the stove,
Weir River, would praise her breast to her neighbors;
Weir River had a dream she could not tell:
In the dream, she ate her breast's wedding wine,
and sat on a brilliantly colored hall,
and her beautiful daughter-in-law affectionately called her "Mom".
She would say to him, "I don't know what you're doing, but I don't know why.
............
Weir, who loved her breast, loved her dearly!
Weir River died before she could wake up from her dream.
When she died, her breast was not beside her,
When she died, her husband, who usually scolded her, also wept for her,
Five sons, each of them wept sadly,
When she died, she softly called out the name of her breast,
The Great Weir, was dead,
When she died, her breast was not beside her.
Weir River, with tears, went!
With forty years of abuse in the world,
with the misery of countless slaves,
with a four-dollar coffin and a few bundles of straw,
with a few feet of square ground to bury the coffin,
with a handful of paper money ashes,
Dayanhe, she went away with tears in her eyes.
This is what Dayanhe doesn't know:
Her drunken husband is dead,
The eldest son has become a bandit,
The second died in the smoke of the artillery fire,
The third, the fourth, and the fifth
And me, I was writing the spell that was given to this unjust world.
When I returned to my native land after a long drift,
in the hillsides, in the fields,
the brothers met in a more intimate way than they had been six or seven years before!
This, this is for you, the quietly sleeping Dayan River
do not know ah!
Dayan River, today your breast is in prison,
writing a hymn to you,
to your purple soul under the yellow soil,
to your straight outstretched hand that has embraced me,
to your lips that have kissed me,
to your mud-black, gentle face,
to the breasts of your breasts,
which have nourished me,
and to the breasts of your breasts,
which are more intimate than six or seven years ago.
This is for you, the silent sleeping Dayan River,
unknown to me!
To your breasts that have nurtured me,
To your sons, my brothers,
To everything on earth,
to my weir-like nannies and their sons,
to the weir that loves me as her own son.
Weir, I grew up on your milk
Your son
I honor you
Love you
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I love this land
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By Ai Qing
Suppose I were a bird,
I, too, should sing with a hoarse throat:
This storm-battered land,
This river that forever rages with our grief,
The winds of fury that blow ceaselessly,
And that infinitely gentler dawn that comes from the woods... ... - and then I died,
and even my feathers rotted in the ground.
Why do I always have tears in my eyes?
Because I love the land so much ......
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Fossilized Fish
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By Ai Qing
How lively the movements,
How energetic you were,
jumping in the waves,
floating and sinking in the sea;
unlucky to meet with a volcanic eruption,
or perhaps an earthquake,
you lost your freedom,
buried in the dust;
how many hundreds of millions of years have passed,
and the geological surveyors have found you in the
Geological surveyors found you in the rock, and
you were still alive.
But you were silent,
not even sighing,
scales and fins intact,
but unable to move;
you were absolutely still,
unresponsive to the outside world,
unable to see the sky or the water,
unable to hear the waves.
Gazing at a piece of fossilized rock,
And the fool is taught the lesson:
Leaving motion,
there is no life.
To live is to struggle,
To advance in the struggle,
When death is not coming,
To put energy to clean use.
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Snow falls on Chinese soil
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By Ai Qing
Snow falls on Chinese soil.
The cold is blocking China ah ......
The wind,
Like an old woman who is too sad.
Followed closely
Stretching out the claws of the cold fingers
Pulling on the lapels of the pedestrians.
With a
rambling
as old as the land
for a quarter of a century ......
that emerges from the forest,
driving a wagon
your Chinese farmer,
wearing a leather cap,
braving the snow
. Where are you going?
To tell you the truth
I, too, am descended from farmers -
and because of your
painfully wrinkled faces,
I can know so y
the
people living on the steppes for
years of hardship.
And I
am no happier than you are
One by one, I lie on the river of time
The waves of suffering
have several times engulfed me and swept me up one by one
Vagabonding and imprisonment
I have lost the most precious days of my youth
My life
is also like your life
.
My life
is as haggard as your life
.
Snow is falling on the land of China,
The cold is blocking China,......
Along the river on the snowy night,
A small oil lamp is moving slowly,
In the tattered bird's-top boat
The light is reflected in the light, and the head hangs down
Who is sitting there? Who is sitting there?
O you
little woman with your hair and your face,
is it not true
that your home
that nest of happiness and warmth has been burned down by a violent enemy
?
Was it not
like this night,
without the protection of men,
in the horror of death
that you have suffered from the play of the enemy's bayonet?
Ahem, on this night so cold,
countless
our aged mothers,
are huddled in homes not their own,
like heathens
who know not on what course tomorrow's wheels
will roll?
One by one, and
The roads in China
are so rough,
so muddy.
Snow falls on the land of China.
The cold is blocking China. ......
Through the snowy steppes
Those regions gnawed by the beacons
Countless, the settlers of the land
Lost their fowls
Lost their fertile fields
Crowded, the land is so thickly packed
that it's hard for the people to see.
Crowded in
The filthy alleys of life's despair;
The earth of opportunity
Lang stretches out to the gloomy heavens
With trembling arms to beg for help.
China's pain and disaster
is as vast and long as this snowy night!
Snow is falling on China's soil
The cold is blocking China. ......
China,
Can my feeble verses
written on a lightless night
give you some warmth?
December 1937, 28
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Miss Spring
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By Ai Qing
The Spring Girl is here-
You guys Who knows,
how she came?
I know!
I know!
She came from the south,
and arrived here a few days ago.
The good news,
was told to me by the swallows.
Have any of you seen,
what she looks like?
I know!
I know!
She was a little girl,
prettier than me,
with two watery eyes,
and a braid so long!
She was barefooted,
with her pants pulled up to her knees;
and on her arm
hung a bold willow basket.
She crossed the river
And walked slowly on the sand,
And she sang softly with her head down,
And the sound was like the river flowing ......
Whoever would be happy at the sight of her;
Whoever would be happy at the sound of her song,
Whoever is happy.
In her big willow basket,
it was filled with many things-
red flowers, green grass,
and golden seeds.
She hung the flowers on the trees,
and spread the grass on the ground;
she scattered the seeds in the fields,
and made them grow green seedlings.
She walked over the ridge of the fields,
and the cows tilted their heads and watched,
and the young calves jumped,
and the big lambs bleated. ......
She came to the village,
And every house was glad,
And every orchard,
Opened its door to welcome;
And the pools,
Polished bright;
And when the spring girl went by,
She took a look in the mirror. > And looked in the mirror.
All kinds of birds,
Singing all kinds of songs,
And every bird says:
"My heart is so happy!"
All kinds of birds,
Singing all kinds of songs,
Each bird says:
"My heart is so happy!"
Only the ducks,
who could not fly or sing,
stood dumbfounded,
flapping their wings and laughing ......
They said, "Miss Spring,
we have been waiting for you for a long time!
It's good that you're here!
We can't sing, hahaha ......"
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Dreams
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By Ai Qing
Waking up When I am awake
I can only fantasize
But dreams visit me when I am asleep
Maybe it's a childhood childhood friend
Maybe it's a friend from a faraway land
Pain on a wire bed
Joy on a haystack
A gift in times of scarcity
A theft in times of abundance
No. A false alarm
It's a loss
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Notice of the dawn
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By Ai Qing
For the sake of my prayers
Arise, O poet
And tell them to give the Sun
In the morning, I wake from sleep,
And rejoice at the sight of thy light;
- Though last night I was still sleepy,
And haunted by countless nightmares.
Thy fresh, tender, and clear light,
shone upon my long unopened window,
and painted the paper of it with a yellowish, pollen-like color,
and embedded it in a light blue and neatly latticed shadow,
and, filled with thankfulness, I arose from my bed, and,
opened the door of the window, which had been shut for the winter,
and allowed thee to send me the bright light of all the golden silk.
I got up from my bed and opened the door of the window, which had been closed for the winter,
and asked you to spread on my table by the window a bright tablecloth of all gold silk.
I did so.
Then, to my surprise, I saw you:
So real that there was no room for doubt,
you stood on the top of the opposite mountain,
and smiled so brightly.
I opened my eyes hard to see you,
longing to capture your image,
how intense, how trance-like, how solemn!
Your light stung my pupils.
O Sun, thou immortal philosopher,
Thou bringest joy to the earth,
and even the most unfortunate sees thee,
and feels thy comfort in his heart.
You are the forge of time,
the gilders of the good life;
you cast the days into countless golden wheels,
flying over the ancient wilderness ......
If there were no you, the sun,
all life would be prostrate in the gloom,
Even if it had wings, it would only fly like a bat
in the eternal night.
I love you as men love their mothers,
you feed my ideas and thoughts with light and heat -
making me live passionately and agonize for ideals,
until my life is taken away by death.
After a long, lonely winter,
I want to go up to the top of the mountain today,
to dissolve my clothes, to be naked,
to bathe my soul in your light ......
to say that what they have waited for is already coming
to say that I have stepped in the I come from the east
From the sea that rages with waves
I will bring light to the world
And warmth to mankind
By the mouth of your righteous people
Please bring my message
Inform mankind, whose eyes are burned with longing, that they are waiting. Mankind
And distant cities and villages steeped in misery
Please welcome me
Herald of the day, bringer of light
Open all the windows to welcome
Open all the doors to welcome
Please sound your whistle to welcome
Please sound your trumpet to welcome
Please Scavengers to clean the streets
And porters to remove the rubbish
Let the laborers walk the streets in broad strides
Let the vehicles flow through the squares in brilliant procession
And let the villages wake up from the damp mist
And open their hedges in welcome to me
And let the village women open their roosts
Ask the farmers to bring their oxen from the barn
Inform them with your warm mouth
That I have come from over the mountains and over the forest
Ask them to clean up those sunny fields
And those patios that are always dirty
Open the windows that are covered with flowery paper
Open the doors that are decorated with spring festivals
Please wake up the attentive women
To welcome me. Wake up the attentive woman
And the snoring man
And the young lover
And the sleepy maiden
Wake up the sleepy mother
And the babe by his side
Wake up everybody
Even the sick and the mothers in childbed
Even the aged
And the old and the aged
And the old, and the old, and the old and the old.
Those who groan in their beds
Even the wounded in wars of justice
And the refugees displaced by the fall of their homelands
Wake up all the unfortunate
I'll comfort them all
Wake up all those who love to live
Workers, craftsmen, and painters
Singers, sing in welcome. Sing and welcome
With the sound of grass and dew
Let the dancers dance and welcome
In their morning clothes of white mist
Let those who are healthy and beautiful wake up
Saying that I am coming soon to knock on their windows
And let your faithful poets of time
Bring tidings of solace to mankind.
Prepare them to welcome, prepare all men to welcome
I will come when the rooster crows for the last time
Let them gaze into the heavens with pious eyes
I will give the most gracious light to all who look for me
Tell them, while the night is almost over
that what they have waited for is coming
that they are waiting. p>
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Give the sun
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By Ai Qing
In the morning, I woke up from my sleep,
and was glad to see your light;
- -Though last night I was still sleepy,
and haunted by innumerable nightmares.
Thy fresh, tender, and clear light,
Shining on my long unopened window,
And giving the paper a yellowish, pollen-like color,
Nestling it in the blue, neat latticework,
I was filled with thankfulness, and arose from my bed,
And opened the door of the window, which had been shut all the winter,
That thou mightst bring me the brightest of all the golden silks.
I got up from my bed and opened the door of the window, which had been closed for the winter,
and asked you to spread on my table by the window a bright tablecloth of all gold silk.
I did so.
Then, to my surprise, I saw you:
So real that there was no room for doubt,
you stood on the top of the opposite mountain,
and smiled so brightly.
I opened my eyes hard to see you,
longing to capture your image,
how intense, how trance-like, how solemn!
Your light stung my pupils.
O Sun, thou immortal philosopher,
Thou bringest joy to the earth,
and even the most unfortunate sees thee,
and feels thy comfort in his heart.
You are the forge of time,
the gilders of the good life;
you cast the days into countless golden wheels,
flying over the ancient wilderness ......
If there were no you, the sun,
all life would be prostrate in the gloom,
Even if it had wings, it would only fly like a bat
in the eternal night.
I love you as men love their mothers,
and you feed my ideas and thoughts with light and heat -
so that I live passionately, and agonize for my ideals,
until my life is taken away by death.
After a long, lonely winter,
today I want to go up to the top of the mountain,
to disrobe myself, to be naked,
to bathe my soul in your light ......
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By Ai Qing
Wave by wave
Endlessly lashing out
Each wave is at its feet
Broken to froth and scattered
......
Its face and body
Looked like a knife had cut it
But still it stood there
With a smile on its face, looking at the ocean
......