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Gedicht

Yu Jian

Flight (extract 3)

all flows towards modernity     So many people     flowed over London Bridge

“Every now and then     I also converse in English”

so many people     the poet never dreamed that this

What is that sound high in the air

would attract so many readers particular about the rhyme schemes of classical Chinese poetry

he never dreamed     that God’s old gardens would cause so much heart-ache

so many hands squeezed into this cabin clutching boarding passes

like withered branches     snatching at the edge of the blaze

Here there is no sound of complaint     Apart from sighs

Racking the forehead of eternity



I left my old home and set off for distant places     I had left behind the home where I dwelt so long


in time’s backyard     there is no arriving at the beginning of things

drawing away from beginnings towards what comes later     and yet barging into the lobby of the future     arriving at the station

arranged in alphabetical order     Unreal City,     Under the brown fog of a winter noon

photocopied in lifelike multiples     shunted here and there     like chain stores

city A     city B     city C     city V     city R     city M     city W

grey airports     have already sprawled their enormous bodies, their teeth and claws     across the outskirts of so many countries

like dinosaurs hatched in nests of concrete     poking long illuminated tongues out into the darkness

to swallow us     swallowing     the entire flight crew     air hostesses     maintenance staff     Chinese

Greeks     Mayans     American Indians     all the     bigwigs     petty crooks     proletarian elements     Buddhists

prostitutes     vegetarians     cowboys     presidents     all of them     let’s get off     passengers

this is the only way out     no one can refuse

In the distance     All we can see     Is the enormous wasteland of eternity

in through here     out through there

it’s only nine hours     it only takes the press of a few keys     “Enter!”

I already find myself in a large tract of alphabet     two jug-like ears flapping



2000

FLIGHT (EXTRACT 3)

Yu Jian

Yu Jian

(China, 1954)

Landen

Ontdek andere dichters en gedichten uit China

Gedichten Dichters

Talen

Ontdek andere dichters en gedichten in het Chinees

Gedichten Dichters
Close

FLIGHT (EXTRACT 3)

Flight (extract 3)

all flows towards modernity     So many people     flowed over London Bridge

“Every now and then     I also converse in English”

so many people     the poet never dreamed that this

What is that sound high in the air

would attract so many readers particular about the rhyme schemes of classical Chinese poetry

he never dreamed     that God’s old gardens would cause so much heart-ache

so many hands squeezed into this cabin clutching boarding passes

like withered branches     snatching at the edge of the blaze

Here there is no sound of complaint     Apart from sighs

Racking the forehead of eternity



I left my old home and set off for distant places     I had left behind the home where I dwelt so long


in time’s backyard     there is no arriving at the beginning of things

drawing away from beginnings towards what comes later     and yet barging into the lobby of the future     arriving at the station

arranged in alphabetical order     Unreal City,     Under the brown fog of a winter noon

photocopied in lifelike multiples     shunted here and there     like chain stores

city A     city B     city C     city V     city R     city M     city W

grey airports     have already sprawled their enormous bodies, their teeth and claws     across the outskirts of so many countries

like dinosaurs hatched in nests of concrete     poking long illuminated tongues out into the darkness

to swallow us     swallowing     the entire flight crew     air hostesses     maintenance staff     Chinese

Greeks     Mayans     American Indians     all the     bigwigs     petty crooks     proletarian elements     Buddhists

prostitutes     vegetarians     cowboys     presidents     all of them     let’s get off     passengers

this is the only way out     no one can refuse

In the distance     All we can see     Is the enormous wasteland of eternity

in through here     out through there

it’s only nine hours     it only takes the press of a few keys     “Enter!”

I already find myself in a large tract of alphabet     two jug-like ears flapping



2000
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