Spring Snow and Cherry Blossom

"Love is no match for anything but love."

It snows in Wuhan...The first spring snow

Snowflakes leads a procession of stars

In the unknown universe, the dark matter shimmers like tearing

Snow, with a desperate heart

Is of the properties of glass. Fragile, do not turn upside down

I throw myself into speed, into flight

Towards the plants with no sunshine

At Luojiashan, the cherry blossoms just open their wings to float

Those buds, all look up to eternity

Spring awakens, not to be melted, not to be rotted

Snow falls from the sky and disappears

Only falling in the snow-like eyes and heart

The wind, a survivor, also a flower undertaker

To Grey-Haired Nanshan

Grey Hair stands in snow, a truth to the gods.

Gray Hair holds up the sky, the chilling sword of Damocles.

A snow leopard ready to set out at any moment

He gets himself arrived, faster and farther before the virus

In the pharmacopoeia of Gray Hair, sickness and pain are

Retrograde in the same direction

Below the grey lines of the eyebrows are the eyes

Believing the dawn will drive away the night

For crazy revenge

The virus sacrifices the viscera of the earth

You alone turn away the beast within

The best immunity, is to become your own doctor and medicine

No need to read the epidemic report but your smile

The smile of spring breeze with grey hair

Angels in White

"He who says the stars are bright,

Because you haven't seen the nurse's eyes."

God's preference for the pure, is also a form of abuse

And the world and human are all under the white light

This is the age to set out first

This is the first color to arrive

This is the only white that can be embraced by Wuhan

White as clouds and waterfalls

The white has crossed the pulse of the three rivers, the lungs of Wuhan

The white, the body temperature of the living and the last name of the dead

The white, your eudemon, your salvation

With one of the most shimmering whiteness, she peels off sick from the patient

With a kind of the thinnest white, she fights at the cost of her life for others

One kind of white pain wipes off another kind of white pain

The lung of the sky

Wuhan is on the same latitude as the virus

I am on the same river as Wuhan

Palms folded, I watch afar

As if the ancient yellow crane flying back from my fingertip

The sky is like a huge net peeping

The mouth of desire constantly

A human conspiracy is hidden in the lung of the dark clouds

More than a wild attempt to turn against a sun

The rain wakes, and the breath of the rainbow flies

Into the sky, Lifting the constellations in my voice

Spreading out into a thousand glimmers of nailed mountains and rivers.

The innards are not in the body, but above the skull

To be looked upwards. To remember or mourn,

Please turn around and bow to yourself.

Bright Night

"Some people live because some people

Have been dead."

Do you understand? ... Yes!

Will you? ... Yes, I will!

This is the answer of the dead to the living

It's a pass, an epitaph too.

He breathes himself out and swallows himself down

And disappears over the dumb whistle

All silence is for your death only

There are two ways of living in the night:

Darker than night, bright than daytime

Look up at the stars and weld souls to the Milky Way with your skull

The Big Dipper is illuminated by yourself

Now the day dawns, and now the sun is setting.

The Wailing Wall and the Chime Bell

"The suffering of the innocent

Could happen to anyone."

My suffering Jewish brother is crying at this moment,

Cry with his head, cry with stones, cry with walls.

It seems to be crying over me, crying over vicarious Wuhan

And crying for all the misery of parting or death.

I appreciate the prayers, the praise and

The eulogizing in tears, which penetrates my heart.

I am grateful to God and heaven whom I have never met;

I ring the chimes and the setting sun in my body

To Jerusalem, and to the Wailing Wall.

Miles apart, close at heart.

If life could be shared, we would share death.

If we should die so noble, we would all love it.

Window and Terrace

By the window. There is a crumpled heart cloud on the glass

Like a lung reflecting from the Yellow Crane Tower.

Only the window is open. Against the wall post as if broken,

It is very sad, sad with the power of refraction.

Terrace. A few more steps advance in midair

Before my body, handing me the sky without masks.

The land is strange and distant. Standing at a great depth,

Face the light, breathe and repent. Deeply breathe the human.

The good will be gone, as if the suffering had never come.

Come on, let the pain keeps in pain for the moment.

"A little music, a little Bach, a little sad Schubert."

This is me, a life of self-isolation.

The red apricot on the wall, the black dog in the cloud,

Partly on earth, partly in heaven, but not on the earth.

About Existence

The existence of the virus puts us in pain

By the secret decree of God, in a greater pain

Than our own suffering. Nature always uses a disaster

Or slaughter to remind us another human desire

Dose time exist or not?

Maybe we forgot it was there.

Forgetting means learning no lessons.

It has a price, a price of destruction.

The book of time is opened from the lungs of the testimony

The riverbed of the eastward Great River does not accommodate

The blood of the stone or the lungs of the voice.

The hosts or intermediate hosts are parasites.

The most solemn is living to die.

The noblest is dying to survive.   

Host bat

"As a poet said, thou art ever among men."

No weal without woe，which is the destiny of mankind,

And it's even worse for you. Standing in unsymmetrical structures, the name of the innocent will continue.

Upside down. Beyond survival, you have new ways of living and thinking.

In your view, humans are walking upside down on the ground.

Sisyphus pushes the stone, chasing the man.

The sky under his feet is gleaming with horns and hoof marks.

It's even harder to imagine the mouth of desire of the human being

Is devouring itself. You are stunned

For more than the night.

In a planet full of the virus, how much space is safe?

Don’t have more desire.

Fly like a bat with a virus.

The Grief of Wuhan

"It is a year people will talk about,

It has been a year of silence."

The late winter of 2019 and the early spring of 2020.

A dynastic history, concocted by viruses.

The severe internal injuries to the earth attacked Wuhan.

Myriads of hills and rills, myriads of families, piercing lungs,

Nowhere to hide, human took refuge in its own breath.

No matter in which direction, there were cries and rescue.

None of them were innocent, none of them were survivors,

All victims. No logical judgment,

All the men who looked at each other were suspects.

Choking silences also grow into soul sifters.

In your breath, take more breaths.

It is this suffering that illuminates your path.

——————

QIN Feng, real name PU Jianxiong, male, Doctor of Literature. Member of Chinese Poetry Society, member of Sichuan Writers Association. He has won the first Global Chinese Poetry Prize, the first Tianfu Literature Prize, the Great Wall Literature Prize, the SU Dongpo Literature Prize, and the ten Best anti-epidemic poetry prizes in China. His literary works have published on literature journals and albums home and abroad. He is the author the poetry anthology Stepping on the Horizon.

ZHANG Qiong, an associate Professor of School of Foreign Languages of Zhaoqing University，a senior member of Translators Association of China, President of Translators Association of Zhaoqing.

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