I Speak of Blood by Xu Lizhi (1990-2014)
I speak of blood, because I can’t help it
I’d love to talk about flowers in the breeze and the moon in the snow
I’d love to talk about imperial history, about poems in wine
But this reality only lets me speak of blood
blood from a rented room the size of a matchbox
narrow, cramped, with no sight of the sun all year
extruding working guys and girls
stray women in long-distance marriages
sichuan chaps selling mala tang
old ladies from henan manning stands
and me with eyes open all night to write a poem
after running about all day to make a living
I tell you about these people, about us
ants struggling through the swamp of life
drops of blood on the way to work
blood chased by cops or smashed by the machine
by casting off insomnia, disease, downsizes, suicide
each explosive word
in the pearl river delta, in the pit of the stomach of the country
eviscerated by an order slip slicing like a kaishaku blade
I tell you these things
even as I go mute, even as my tongue cracks
to tear open the silence of the age
to speak of blood, of the sky crumbling
I speak of blood, my mouth all crimson
I’d love to talk about flowers in the breeze and the moon in the snow
I’d love to talk about imperial history, about poems in wine
But this reality only lets me speak of blood
blood from a rented room the size of a matchbox
narrow, cramped, with no sight of the sun all year
extruding working guys and girls
stray women in long-distance marriages
sichuan chaps selling mala tang
old ladies from henan manning stands
and me with eyes open all night to write a poem
after running about all day to make a living
I tell you about these people, about us
ants struggling through the swamp of life
drops of blood on the way to work
blood chased by cops or smashed by the machine
by casting off insomnia, disease, downsizes, suicide
each explosive word
in the pearl river delta, in the pit of the stomach of the country
eviscerated by an order slip slicing like a kaishaku blade
I tell you these things
even as I go mute, even as my tongue cracks
to tear open the silence of the age
to speak of blood, of the sky crumbling
I speak of blood, my mouth all crimson
-translated by Lucas Klein, Assistant Professor at the University of Hong Kong’s School of Chinese
「我谈到血」
我谈到血,也是出于无奈
我也想谈谈风花雪月
谈谈前朝的历史,酒中的诗词
可现实让我只能谈到血
血源自火柴盒般的出租屋
这里狭窄,逼仄,终年不见天日
挤压着打工仔打工妹
失足妇女异地丈夫
卖麻辣烫的四川小伙
摆地滩的河南老人
以及白天为生活而奔波
黑夜里睁着眼睛写诗的我
我向你们谈到这些人,谈到我们
一只只在生活的泥沼中挣扎的蚂蚁
一滴滴在打工路上走动的血
被城管追赶或者机台绞碎的血
沿途撒下失眠,疾病,下岗,自杀
一个个爆炸的词汇
在珠三角,在祖国的腹部
被介错刀一样的订单解剖着
我向你们谈到这些
纵然声音喑哑,舌头断裂
也要撕开这时代的沉默
我谈到血,天空破碎
我谈到血,满嘴鲜红
我也想谈谈风花雪月
谈谈前朝的历史,酒中的诗词
可现实让我只能谈到血
血源自火柴盒般的出租屋
这里狭窄,逼仄,终年不见天日
挤压着打工仔打工妹
失足妇女异地丈夫
卖麻辣烫的四川小伙
摆地滩的河南老人
以及白天为生活而奔波
黑夜里睁着眼睛写诗的我
我向你们谈到这些人,谈到我们
一只只在生活的泥沼中挣扎的蚂蚁
一滴滴在打工路上走动的血
被城管追赶或者机台绞碎的血
沿途撒下失眠,疾病,下岗,自杀
一个个爆炸的词汇
在珠三角,在祖国的腹部
被介错刀一样的订单解剖着
我向你们谈到这些
纵然声音喑哑,舌头断裂
也要撕开这时代的沉默
我谈到血,天空破碎
我谈到血,满嘴鲜红
2013年9月17日
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