Poems by Liu Hongbin Published by the MCLC Resource Center, Copyright 2007.

An Iron Circle You are the evil spirit lmprisoning my heart in your blockade. You are the mighty padlock Locking the chains with which my thoughts are weighed. You came from the Solar City Dazzling us with the brightness that you made. I hung you, a shining gift, round the neck of my lover, And now you have rusted, I wander, lost, in the shade. (Tr. by David Hawkes)	铁环 你是恶魔 , 禁锢我的心房。 你是巨锁， 箝制我的思想。 你来自太阳城， 乌托邦刺眼地闪光。 你是爱人颈上我赠的项链， 我在铁锈的阴凉中彷徨。 1981.6.6.
Rubik's Cube You shrug off the babble looking gorgeous on you, In tears, bid farewell to the fairy tales in the sunset We encounter each other at a roundabout The World, as a magic cube, appears so wonderful Your tiny attic is the copy of the world, It too can encompass everything Man hides in his own Rubik's cube, Floating on the peopled sea You say your eyes prefer the dark The tiny Rubik's cube only needs one little window Then you fall in love with the black plane of the three-dimensional cube Just leaving one white square For the sake of an answer, You start an endless quest. In the small Rubik's cube ripples the sound of your leafing through the pages The pen in your hand draws out the flickering light of the oars' strokes I am also contained in the world of this huge Rubik's cube, Seeking unity amongst the confusing colours within the small one How could I steer your small boat like a Rubik's cube? Perhaps I am a stupid primary pupil Between the small Rubik's cube and the huge one Making an equation without a solution First, I and the small cube make up a known quantity Then I build a bridge to the larger cube. We are on a quest We speak an ancient language You untied the rope of thought and set sail to sea To salvage the wreckage of your dream I wish to be glue, Your three-dimensional dream I hope to reshape Hidden inside it the stories you heard, the toys you played with You become rich I am happy for you When you can no longer bear the dark heavy solitude I will be a ray of pure light, Saturated with sunshine and oxygen, Gazing through the window of your Rubik's cube Sometimes alone inside my own Rubik's cube, I may pace up and down Thinking about this sort of thing: A girl uses seawater, starlight, reefs, storms To write down her own log-book (Tr. by Liu Hongbin, with Peter Porter)	魔方 你抖落满身绚丽的儿语， 含泪告别晚霞里的童话。 我们邂逅在米字形的路口旁， 世界是一个多么奇妙的魔方。 你小小的阁楼是世界的摹制品， 同样可以包罗万象。 人躲在自己的魔方里， 漂泊在人海上。 你说你的眼睛喜欢黑暗， 小小的魔方只需要一个小窗。 于是你爱上了立方体那个黑平面， 只留一块白小方。 为了一个答案， 你开始了无休止的追求。 小魔方里荡漾起你翻书的声响， 笔在你手中闪动桨划出的光亮。 我也套在世界这个大魔方里， 在小魔方纷乱的色彩中寻求同一。 怎能为你小船一样的魔方领航？ 也许我是一个愚蠢的小学生， 在小魔方与大魔方之间， 列出一个没解的方程式。 先使我和小魔方成为已知项， 再由我去沟通大魔方。 我们求索。 我们讲一种古老的语言。 你解开思想的缆绳启航了， 出海打捞梦幻的碎片。 我希望是粘合剂， 为你组合起梦的立方体： 里面藏着你听过的故事, 玩过的玩具。 你变得富有了， 我为你高兴。 当你忍受不了黑色沉重的孤寂 我会是一束纯净的光， 饱含阳光和氧气， 凝视你魔方的窗。 有时我会孑然地在自己的魔方中踱着步， 想着这样的事情： 一个姑娘用海水   星光   暗礁   风暴， 写着自己的航海日志。 1986.5.10.
Who Are You? I am a baby of premature delivery. I am a genius who died before the age of thirty. I am a child born inadvertently before the invention of contraception. I am a devoted son now abandoned. I am a young girl cherishing my virginity but raped. I am a virile young man now castrated. I am a loyal lover now betrayed. I am the boxer pole-axed to the cheers of the spectators. I am a vagrant leaning under moonlight against reality's wall. I am a poet who detests hypocrisy now slandered by it. I am a martyr adoring the sublime now buried by it. I am a senile man, alone, staring with dull eyes at a setting sun. I am beautiful blood gushing out from a body. I come from contingent birth, walking toward inevitable death. I am severed ears still wanting to listen to good news. I am a mouth venting suffering but gagged by a wall-like hand. I am a severed nose still wanting to smell roses. I am an unrequited lover expressing love with a torn-out tongue. I am a pair of hands with amputated fingers holding my beloved. I am legs trudging across snow enduring fractured bones. I am a corpse that burned itself because it contracted cholera. I am a matchstick struck then thrown away. I am a liqueur glass shattered by a drunk. I am a balloon rising over people's staring heads. I am the remains of firecrackers lit by children, hated by streetsweepers. I am a football writhing in pain under a player's foot used to decide who wins or who loses. I am a lover's token taken by a thief. I am a dog who saved his master's life dying from his gun. I am the grapes of wrath which foxes could not reach. I am a cloud man cursed, but bringing timely rain. I am an albatross fallen among the crowds of the marketplace. I am the shoulders holding up the railway so that trains may pass. I am the ordinary decorations of eternal space. I am the grave goods of time. I am a frayed rope, cursed by people who used it to tow their boat. I am a piece of wreckage on the beach to which the drowning clung. I am a mast broken by the sail's need. I am the conversation between the sailors and tidal wave. I am the conchshell, innards scooped out, now blowing a fisherman's song. Who are you ? I am I. I am exactly what I am. I am I. I am just the thing I am. I am I. (Tr. by Liu Hongbin, Jason Brooks, and Peter Porter)	你是谁 我是早产的婴儿。 我是夭折的天才。 我是避孕术未发明前无奈生下的孩子。 我是热爱父母却被父母抛弃的孩子。 我是珍重贞操却被强奸的少女。 我是青春漾溢却被阉割的男子。 我是忠于爱情却被背叛的情人。 我是倒在观众赞誉声中的拳击手。 我是昏倚在月光照耀下现实之墙的流浪汉。 我是厌恶虚伪而被虚伪猥亵的诗人。 我是崇尚高尚却被高尚埋葬的殉道者。 我是目光呆滞   孤独地凝视着夕阳的老人。 我是从人体内溢出的美丽的血。 我偶然地从生走来， 向必然的死走去。 我是被割掉却在聆听福音的耳朵 。 我是想发泄痛苦却被墙一样的手堵住的口。 我是遭劓刑却想闻玫瑰的鼻子。 我是想表达爱情却被割掉舌头的苦恋者。 我是拥抱着爱人手指残缺的双手。 我是忍着骨折剧痛在雪原中向前挪动的双腿。 我是身患霍乱而把自己焚烧的焦尸。 我是燃过而被扔掉的火柴杆。 我是被醉汉摔碎的酒杯。 我是人们眼中向高空升起的气球。 我是清洁夫讨厌的   玩童燃放过的鞭炮的尸体。 我是为判定输赢在人们脚下痛滚的足球。 我是被盗贼抢走的   情人互赠的信物。 我是救过主人命却死在主人枪口下的猎狗。 我是狐狸摘不下的酸葡萄酿成的愤怒的酒。 我是遭人诅咒却降下及时雨的乌云。 我是落在集市人群里的兀鹰。 我是扛着铁轨使列车通过的臂膀。 我是永恒空间的普通装饰。 我是时间的殉葬品。 我是拉船而蹦断的被纤夫诅咒的绳索。 我是负载溺水人继而被遗弃在海滩上的船板。 我是因帆的爱恋而折断的桅杆。 我是海啸与船上水手对话发出的声音。 我是被挖空而吹出渔歌的螺号。 你是谁？ 我是我。 你到底是谁？ 我就是我， 我不是什么。 我是我， 我就是我。
Voice As soon as we leave the tunnel of our birth, even before our bodies are cleaned of blood, we all cry out, and those sharp cries are the first signs of our talent for speech. Later, we escape in many directions, and our voices are lamps of fire in the rain, which fly up looking for their own lines of light, as flocks of birds rush through the trees or birdsong falls along forest paths. That is how our voices mingle with air. Who can forbid something so natural? World, we must have a talk about this. We don't need any language to do it, Just to look at each other. Nature's a womb not a refrigerator, Our voices which are spacious as the sky, must not be frozen in us or we die.   (Tr. by Elaine Feinstein)	声音 走出被时间锁住的长长的隧道。 还没擦净身上的血， 我们跃出子宫 , 大喊大叫。 这是准备好的发言稿。 我们带着声音向四方奔逃。 一片雨中的灯火飞向天空， 寻找自己发光的坐标。 一群鸟穿过挤满树的森林， 鸟的鸣叫落满林道。 我们的声音跟空气私奔， 谁能禁止得了 ? 世界 , 让我们谈一谈， 我们只需互相看一眼， 不需借助任何语言。 自然界是一个子宫 , 不是冰箱， 不会把天空一样辽阔的声音冻僵， 否则我们会跟这个世界一起死亡。 1990.6.27
Learning a New Language Voice is a cluster of butterflies flying into memory. Phonetic sounds leave a trace on the muscle. Body temperature is a form of language. My love, do you remember my touch? Language is a kind of action. My body has remembered you securely. October,1991 (Tr. by Liu Hongbin, with Peter Porter)	学一种新语言 声音是一群蝴蝶飞进记忆。 语音在肌肉上留下痕迹。 体温是一种温暖的语言。 亲爱的 , 你还记得我的抚摸吗 ? 语言是一种行动。 我的身体牢牢地记住了你。 1991.10
Words I live within words, Looking for ways to clothe ideas. Words are a landlord I sell myself to And pay him rent. I live within words. When they fail me and I want to escape, Words are a gaoler, Who forces himself on me. I am fighting a voice in every pore. I live within words, Words loiter inside my head. When I don't feel like sleeping with them, They rape me, They dance in glory and in malice kicking up the dust of voices. I live within words, Words swim into my head. When, out for revenge, I try to destroy this house of words Suddenly it turns amiable, And makes friends with me. We run away together to another house. Does my landlord still want me as his tenant? (Tr. by Liu Hongbin, with Peter Porter)	词 语 我活在词语里， 为意念找衣服。 词语是房主。 我出卖自己， 然后付他房租。 我活在词语里， 我说不出话想逃出时， 词语是看守。 他硬把自己的词语塞进我的脑袋， 我抵抗的是无孔不入的声音。 我活在词语里， 词语赖在我的脑袋里。 我不想跟他性交时， 他硬强奸了我， 在荣耀和邪恶中跳起了舞， 声音的尘土飞扬。 我活在词语里。 词语游进我的脑袋里。 我怀着复仇的心要毁灭词语这房屋时， 他却变的友善起来。 我们成了朋友。 一起逃进另一个房屋。 他还想做房主 ? 1990.11.22.
This poem for Warwick Gould Before this poem reaches fullness Filled inside with darkness, The poet chooses words from the dictionary in his head, As torches to light what lies ahead. Without making the emergency exit in the sentence, The defenseless poet walks from one line to another; One moment he faces the danger of adventure, The next he feels secure in the structure. The corridor within the poem fills with light, Readers walking by, observe it with delight. This poem is on the point of its completion, Readers swiftly abandon the final lineation. The poet is locked inside the poem. (Tr. by Liu Hongbin, with Peter Porter)	这首诗 在这首诗完成以前， 诗的内部盛满了黑暗。 诗人从装在脑袋里的辞典中将词语拣选， 然后将这些词语当做火把点燃。 在句子中没有设计紧急出口， 诗人从一行的开头走到另一行的尾端。 他一会儿觉得很冒险， 一会儿在这个结构中又觉得很安全 诗中的走廊充满光明， 读者边走边尽兴留览。 这首诗即将写完， 读者迅速将最后的一行词语抛在身后。 诗人自己却被诗关在了里面。 2004