Poem
Yang Lian
1989
who says the dead can embrace?like fine horses manes silver grey
standing outside the window in the freezing moonlight
the dead are buried in the days of the past
in days not long past madmen were tied onto beds
rigid as iron nails
pinning down the timbers of darkness
the coffin lid each day closing over like this
who says the dead are dead and gone? the dead
enclosed in the vagrancy of their final days
are the masters of forever
four portraits of themselves on four walls
butchery yet again blood
is still the only famous landscape
slept into the tomb they were lucky but they wake again in
a tomorrow the birds fear even more
this is no doubt a perfectly ordinary year
© Translation: 1994, Brian Holton
From: Non-Person Singular
Publisher: Wellsweep Press, London, 1994
From: Non-Person Singular
Publisher: Wellsweep Press, London, 1994
1989
wie zegt dat de doden elkaar zullen omarmenzoals paard na paard met zilvergrijze manen
buiten het raam in het bevroren maanlicht staan
zijn de doden begraven in de dagen van het verleden
in een heel recent verleden werden gekken op bedden vastgebonden
kaarsrecht als ijzeren nagels
die het timmerhout van de duisternis vastspijkeren
zo wordt elke dag het deksel van de doodkist gesloten
wie zegt dat de doden dood zijn de doden
zijn opgesloten in de dag des oordeels gedoemd om voor altijd te dolen
op vier muren vier maal hun eigen gezicht
nogmaals afgeslacht bloed
blijft het enige befaamde landschap
wie slapend het graf in gaat heeft geluk maar hij ontwaakt
op een nieuwe dag die vogels nog meer vrezen
dit was niets meer dan een doodgewoon jaar
© Vertaling: 2009, Jan De Meyer
© 1994, Yang Lian
From: Non-Person Singular
Publisher: Wellsweep, London
From: Non-Person Singular
Publisher: Wellsweep, London
Poems
Poems of Yang Lian
Close
1989
who says the dead can embrace?like fine horses manes silver grey
standing outside the window in the freezing moonlight
the dead are buried in the days of the past
in days not long past madmen were tied onto beds
rigid as iron nails
pinning down the timbers of darkness
the coffin lid each day closing over like this
who says the dead are dead and gone? the dead
enclosed in the vagrancy of their final days
are the masters of forever
four portraits of themselves on four walls
butchery yet again blood
is still the only famous landscape
slept into the tomb they were lucky but they wake again in
a tomorrow the birds fear even more
this is no doubt a perfectly ordinary year
© 1994, Brian Holton
From: Non-Person Singular
Publisher: 1994, Wellsweep Press, London
From: Non-Person Singular
Publisher: 1994, Wellsweep Press, London
1989
who says the dead can embrace?like fine horses manes silver grey
standing outside the window in the freezing moonlight
the dead are buried in the days of the past
in days not long past madmen were tied onto beds
rigid as iron nails
pinning down the timbers of darkness
the coffin lid each day closing over like this
who says the dead are dead and gone? the dead
enclosed in the vagrancy of their final days
are the masters of forever
four portraits of themselves on four walls
butchery yet again blood
is still the only famous landscape
slept into the tomb they were lucky but they wake again in
a tomorrow the birds fear even more
this is no doubt a perfectly ordinary year
© 1994, Brian Holton
From: Non-Person Singular
Publisher: 1994, Wellsweep Press, London
From: Non-Person Singular
Publisher: 1994, Wellsweep Press, London
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