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> PoetryThe 35th Poetry International Festival took
place on 12-18 June 2004 in Rotterdam,
the Netherlands. 28 poets from 20 coun-
tries attended the festival. Poetry Interna-
tional, in collaboration with the Asia-
Europe Foundation (ASEF) and the
International Institute for Asian Studies,
invited six Asian poets to the festival.
Information on the programme, the poets
and a full list of sponors can be found at
http://www.poetry.nl/general_new/
home.php
World Poetry Circuit
1. The Poets Arrive and Shake Hands
2. The Poets Receive Their Breakfast
Coupons
3. The Poets Listen to Speeches
4. The Poets Take Their Own Turns
Onstage
5. The Poets Attend A Garden Reception
6. The Poets Line Up for The Prince
7. The Poets Are Taken to A Beach Resort
8. The Poets Are Caught Up in Traffic
9. The Poets Pose for A Group Shot
10. The Poets Land in the Papers
11. The Poets Escape Their Hosts
12. The Poets Are Recovered
13. The Poets Talk of War and Poverty,
Love and Repression
14. The Poets Are Translated All Over the
Place
15. The Poets Quarrel Among Themselves
16. The Poets Fuck One Another
17. The Poets Are Late Again for Dinner
18. The Poets Complain About Everything
19. The Poets Are Finally Given An Hour
for Shopping
20. The Poets Seek Out the Last Pub
21. The Poets Exchange Books and
Addresses
22. The Poets Thank Everyone with Folk
Songs
23. The Poets Settle Their Hotel Bills
24. The Poets Leave for Other Countries
25. The Poets Remember, and Smile to
Themselves
Alfred A. Yuson> The
35th
Poet
ry In
tern
ation
al Fe
stiva
l
Tigh
twir
eTh
is m
an k
now
s. H
e gr
opes
for
titl
es.
Ther
e is
nee
d fo
r na
min
g fi
sh a
nd b
read
Whe
n m
ulti
plie
d up
on a
mou
ntai
n.
Such
a d
ark
swir
l the
sky
is, r
ed-b
ande
d,
Like
the
cre
sted
bir
d of
cas
tane
ts.
Or
a se
ñor
ita’
s sk
irt.
We
are
unde
r th
e fo
lds,
Look
ing
up a
t th
in li
nes
of t
itill
atio
n.
This
man
kno
ws,
and
gro
ping
, pro
ceed
s
To p
lace
one
dis
dain
ful f
ool’s
foot
Bef
ore
the
othe
r. H
e re
peat
s th
e pr
oces
s.
The
dark
bow
l tha
t is
his
uni
vers
e
Ass
umes
the
pro
pert
ies
of p
orce
lain
.
He
wal
ks o
n de
licat
ely
and
ther
e is
nee
d
For
brea
th, f
or b
reat
hles
snes
s.
This
man
kno
ws
and
stop
s, le
g cr
ossi
ng
knee
.
In t
he v
ery
mid
dle,
whe
re t
ill n
ow h
angi
ng
Und
er p
ubis
of a
ir, h
e st
ays.
Han
gin
g. P
oise
d on
poi
sone
d fe
nce
, ess
ence
Dri
ppin
g on
his
hea
d, c
ente
red.
Wer
e th
e da
nce
r
To d
o a
cart
whe
el h
is fi
gure
wou
ld s
how
In t
he r
evea
led
arc
as t
he h
ange
d m
an. T
his
man
kno
ws.
He
stay
s th
ere.
He
falls
. And
in h
is fa
llin
g
He
know
s. H
e kn
ows
he is
falli
ng.
He
is fa
lling
. He
has
falle
n.
The
card
s w
ere
stac
ked
to b
egin
wit
h.
How
man
y ti
mes
he
has
falle
n. H
ow m
any
tim
es
He
has
know
n th
e vi
rtue
s of
falli
ng. H
ow m
any
Mou
nta
ins
and
danc
ers
he h
as lo
ved
whi
le fa
lling
.
Alfr
ed A
. Yus
on
Lily
Mag
nol
iam
y da
rlin
g no
onda
y, t
he m
agno
lia d
rops
her
gaz
e, s
eren
ely
drea
min
gsh
e dr
eam
s of
me
stan
ding
on
tip-
toe
befo
re h
er li
ke a
pha
ntom
she
mak
es o
ut t
he c
an o
f wat
er I
hol
d, p
oiso
n to
all
but
her
and
in h
er fa
ce I
can
not
find
the
slig
htes
t sh
red
of fe
arw
hile
she
now
sen
ses
how
I lo
athe
mys
elf
so d
eepl
y lo
athe
thi
s bl
ood,
the
se n
erve
s, t
hese
por
es, t
helo
ok o
f my
ears
, my
cons
tric
ted
hear
t; o
ne m
omen
t sh
e un
ders
tand
s th
atI’
m p
lain
ly o
nly
a m
an; s
oon
afte
r sh
e re
min
ds h
erse
lf th
atI’
ve lo
unge
d be
side
win
dow
s st
arin
g at
oth
ers,
or
swit
ched
on
light
san
d pa
ssed
thr
ough
doo
rs t
o pe
netr
ate
still
dee
per
plac
esan
d so
she
she
ds p
rete
ndin
g flo
wer
s, o
r m
akes
the
bes
t of
age
ntly
gus
ting
bre
eze
in c
lear
ski
es, o
r a
peal
of t
hund
er, t
o da
nce
me
from
her
ski
n, fr
om h
er u
neas
y he
art
Zha
ng Z
ao
Tran
slat
ed b
y Si
mon
Pat
ton
EdgeLike a tomato hiding on the edge of a steelyard he is always
lying down. Something flashes past – a warning or a swallow – but he
doesn’t budge, maintaining his place beside the small things.
As the second hand moves to ten on the dot,
an alarm clock heads off into the distance. A cigarette
also leaves, taking with it several pairs of misshapen blue handcuffs.
His glasses, clouds, German locks. In a word, everything that hadn’t
has now left.
The emptiness gets bigger. He is even further away, but always on
some edge: edge of cog-wheels, edge of water, the very edge of
his own self. He often looks up into the sky, index finger pointed into the air,
practising a spidery, delirious calligraphy: ‘Come back!’
Sure enough, all those things that lost their shape regain their original form:
the windows of a new housing estate are full of evening wind;
the moon brews a large barrel of golden beer.
The steelyard jerks violently: there, the Illimitable
comes to recline beside the tomato
like a becalmed lion.
Zhang Zao
Translated by Simon Patton
Envoi When the island woke
the ship had gone.
Neither wake
nor trail of light
was seen
amid the sea’s empty din.
Gathering dark
was the lover leaving
while the other slept.
Impending dark
was the lover having left.
Alfred A. Yuson
“Mount Peng”It is still a long way to Mount Peng
Dreams walk on the ground, beneath clusters of windows
they flee
Huge volumes of refugees surge onto Mount Peng. In late autumn
blue-colored birds are hunted
mounted on sheet iron
on a section of trunk taken from a sapling
a—its two young footprint
have left imprints on his chest—and
a length of flame as swift as a foal
Blue-colored bird, its feathers are the first to die
and then its two eyes and then its speech
From a chilly ferry, Mount Peng
is not far
People intent on their journeys take over every
winter nest. So goes
the dream. Dreaming that the blue-colored bird
spreads its wings and flies away from the woods and even looks back
and speaks to the dream
Ling Yu
Translated by Andrea Lingenfelter
Yuyu
an—
Acc
ordi
ng t
o an
anc
ient
lege
nd, Y
uyua
n, o
r th
e A
byss
of Y
u, w
as w
here
the
sun
wen
t w
hen
it s
et.
Wen
t to
Yuy
uan
to v
isit
the
impr
ison
ed s
un
Thos
e w
ings
tha
t ch
afed
at
thei
r lo
t w
ere
its
crim
e
Its
win
gs fu
rl u
p a
corn
er o
f the
dar
knes
s, b
leed
ing
Shar
p ar
row
head
s fa
sten
ed t
ight
ly t
o it
s vi
tal p
arts
It s
ays,
eve
n in
my
drea
ms
it h
urts
to b
reat
he
And
eve
n if
it g
ot r
id o
f its
win
gs, e
ven
if
the
sky
coul
d no
t be
ar
a he
ad, d
ream
s go
on
My
neck
is s
till
liste
ning
inte
ntly
: the
day
light
pass
ing
thro
ugh
dark
nig
ht
calls
to
me
Ling
Yu
Tran
slat
ed b
y A
ndre
a Li
ngen
felt
er