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  • I I A S N e w s l e t t e r | # 3 5 | N o v e m b e r 2 0 0 4 2 5

    > 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

    or

    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

    ools

    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

    doesnt 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 hadnt

    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 seas empty din.

    Gathering dark

    was the lover leaving

    while the other slept.

    Impending dark

    was the lover having left.

    Alfred A. Yuson

    Mount PengIt 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

    aits two young footprint

    have left imprints on his chestand

    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