Gedicht
Zhai Yongming
The Lightly Injured
here come the lightly injuredgauze white as their white faces
their wounds sewn up more neatly than the war
here come they come
carrying the things they cherish
parts that have not died
they strip off their uniforms they wash themselves
and use cheques and credit cards
the heavily wounded city seethes with energy
its pulse its temperature rises and falls
faster than war
slower than terror
the heavily wounded city
dispenses with artificial legs and bandages
now it bleeds a green secretion
it provides an all-powerful power of stone
one of the lightly injured lifts up his head
to take a look at those aesthetical constructions
six thousand bombs come crashing down
they leave an arms depot in flames
six thousand bombs burn
like six thousand heavily wounded eyes
hastily lighting up the faces
of those thousands of women with husbands
of men with wives of unmarried men and women
sulphur asphalt cover their bodies
at their feet, tangled rigid frames
a heavily wounded map in hand
the lightly injured from this moment on
go separately in search of those
new vessel buildings
thin forms, light forms and pointed
the neck of this city
now stretches out sharply:
a cinch to slice through
and scaring off a good many cuts
© Translation: 2004, Simon Patton
THE LIGHTLY INJURED
© 2004, Zhai Yongming
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THE LIGHTLY INJURED
The Lightly Injured
here come the lightly injuredgauze white as their white faces
their wounds sewn up more neatly than the war
here come they come
carrying the things they cherish
parts that have not died
they strip off their uniforms they wash themselves
and use cheques and credit cards
the heavily wounded city seethes with energy
its pulse its temperature rises and falls
faster than war
slower than terror
the heavily wounded city
dispenses with artificial legs and bandages
now it bleeds a green secretion
it provides an all-powerful power of stone
one of the lightly injured lifts up his head
to take a look at those aesthetical constructions
six thousand bombs come crashing down
they leave an arms depot in flames
six thousand bombs burn
like six thousand heavily wounded eyes
hastily lighting up the faces
of those thousands of women with husbands
of men with wives of unmarried men and women
sulphur asphalt cover their bodies
at their feet, tangled rigid frames
a heavily wounded map in hand
the lightly injured from this moment on
go separately in search of those
new vessel buildings
thin forms, light forms and pointed
the neck of this city
now stretches out sharply:
a cinch to slice through
and scaring off a good many cuts
© 2004, Simon Patton
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