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

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