Zhang Er
(China-USA)
Let it Be Distinguished.
Let it Be Pure.
don’t move, don’t shake
don’t want instant noodle boxes, cigarette butts, soda bottles
don’t want tissue paper, fruit pit, garbage bag
don’t want another cold dish or diced chicken with garlic sauce
don’t want color, negative or positive
don’t want sound, nor the plot
don’t want a big scene, nor the actors
don’t want tears, nor resentment
no need for name-brand clothes, makeup
nor bra, flowery panties
don’t want you to bleed
don’t dynamite the old house
don’t dam river, build bridge instead
tell me story, don’t lecture
don’t look at me that way
don’t feed me apple guts
hold me tight
don’t allow this handful of clear crystal to change into turbid soup
hold me tight
don’t let your dark current
wash away these mornings, afternoons, nights
filled with laughter filled with
Plastic Flowers in the Porthole
Don’t rearrange the Everyday! It’s Beauty
itself, no – the search for same.
In five hundred years, indigestible plastic
emerges as Classic Art. As for you,
you are Eternity: flowing
non-stop, paying total voracious attention
to the outlines of things.
The silhouette scissors
cut room for various volumes and surfaces!
Alright then, how
should we treat life,
with all its transient needs?
Hunger, for example, sex
and (ta da!) marriage contract? Mountains rivers
all rush by-
men, women, their
enthusiastic creations-
where to put them all? What could possibly hold them?
Meaningless sky
matches the vase of plastic flowers,
blossoms bright industrial smile.
Bridge Under Construction
When two points join, the suspense will be over.
Now colorful flags blow! Bridge probes the bottomless
heart of the river. Will it make it to the other side?
Maybe it just spreads its wide shoulders,
lets the boats glide under, no visible
wake. Birds above,
naturally. Immovable
mountain embraces
huts, houses, highrises.
Is this it, love?
calm surface
yellow water
yellow soil:
the seventh layer five thousand years
the tenth layer eight thousand years
sediment churns up
beauty, small clay pot, a fish tail.
I throw myself into your arms
lean against your chest of steel, and cry—
your body wakes
flowing water tenderness
bottomless depth ninety-ninth layer.
Noodles
The cook makes the sauce— « Shua »!
hot pot encounters cold tomato
homeland. A tiny spot of
memory bitter like tea leaves clings
to the worn spoon.
Scarlet ribbon wrappings layer over layer,
way way beyond exotic.
They are handing out menus again.
In and out, practice the union
of east and west. You
stand outside the door
waiting for that man
to walk out of your heart.
Let him wait, pitilessly let him wait
till the oil heats up, thick smoke rises,
serve bowl after bowl:
dumpling
wonton
Yang Chow
even Singapore fried rice…
she diligently translates
fried eggs, already overcooked
but still translating.
Want some shredded meat huh?
Hot sauce huh?
Sit still like a good student.
Answer, I want it soft and slow.
How much time do I have?
When it strikes 12 midnight
you will change back to the cook’s wife
cleaning the table, sweeping the floor.
Drink it first, peel
down taste layer after layer:
dark vegetation, naked soil
roots buried deep, water source.
An effortless touch, such tacit thread.
You are wet
You are wet too
all over
long bench in the garden, stone bridge
he stands, wheezing, checking the scenery
motionless in the rain
black and white
wait
She tentatively presses down the save key,
hits return. Now finally
spoon out the flamboyant oil,
tender yellow fried egg emerges
from the soup bowl with matching plate.
Coriander leaves?
Bare feet, little girl style
pajama scallion green
comes downstairs
embraced by such a love
kept in the mouth
wet, dripping
how did you come here?
how did you find such
a creative way
to keep warm?
Secret channel:
a dare to go down
and more, a patience to wait
I want to swallow you.
Noodles dripping wet.
(Translated from Chinese by Bob Holman with the author)
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BIO
Zhang Er, born in Beijing, is the author of five collections of poetry in Chinese, most recently Morning, Not Yet. Her selected poems appeared in two bilingual collections, So Translating Rivers and Cities and Verses on Bird. She co-edited and participated in the translation of the bilingual volume Another Kind of Nation: an Anthology of Contemporary Chinese Poetry. Her current poetry projects include a forth-coming collection of short poems in Chinese with illustration and an English version of her book First Mountain in collaboration. She also writes opera libretti in English for American composers including Moon in the Mirror (premiered in 2015) and Fiery Jade Cai Yan (premiered in 2016).