Poem
Yi Sha
The One Face I Remembered
to describe him as repulsively uglywould be quite appropriate
as well as convenient
but how irresponsible
it seems
a phrase that amounts to saying nothing
because you still wouldn't know
what he actually looked like
his is the only face I've remembered
out of all the strangers I’ve seen
emaciated looking the face of an ordinary worker
by the crematorium furnaces
that day I was pushing
the corpse of my mother along on a trolley
when he blocked my path and said
“Leave it to me. This is not for you.”
I handed over the carton
of Three Five cigarettes I had brought with me
he accepted this without the slightest reaction
and walked away, pushing the trolley
the man who was taking my mother off
to her final resting place
© Translation: 2004, Simon Patton
THE ONE FACE I REMEMBERED
© 1998, Yi Sha
From: Yi Sha shixuan
Publisher: Qinghai Renmin Chubanshe, Xining
From: Yi Sha shixuan
Publisher: Qinghai Renmin Chubanshe, Xining
Poems
Poems of Yi Sha
Close
The One Face I Remembered
to describe him as repulsively uglywould be quite appropriate
as well as convenient
but how irresponsible
it seems
a phrase that amounts to saying nothing
because you still wouldn't know
what he actually looked like
his is the only face I've remembered
out of all the strangers I’ve seen
emaciated looking the face of an ordinary worker
by the crematorium furnaces
that day I was pushing
the corpse of my mother along on a trolley
when he blocked my path and said
“Leave it to me. This is not for you.”
I handed over the carton
of Three Five cigarettes I had brought with me
he accepted this without the slightest reaction
and walked away, pushing the trolley
the man who was taking my mother off
to her final resting place
© 2004, Simon Patton
From: Yi Sha shixuan
From: Yi Sha shixuan
The One Face I Remembered
to describe him as repulsively uglywould be quite appropriate
as well as convenient
but how irresponsible
it seems
a phrase that amounts to saying nothing
because you still wouldn't know
what he actually looked like
his is the only face I've remembered
out of all the strangers I’ve seen
emaciated looking the face of an ordinary worker
by the crematorium furnaces
that day I was pushing
the corpse of my mother along on a trolley
when he blocked my path and said
“Leave it to me. This is not for you.”
I handed over the carton
of Three Five cigarettes I had brought with me
he accepted this without the slightest reaction
and walked away, pushing the trolley
the man who was taking my mother off
to her final resting place
© 2004, Simon Patton
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