My solitude is a snake,
In its quietude speechless.
If you dream of it,
Never fear it, please!
It is my loyal companion,
Homesickness over heart does spread;
It longs for that luxuriant grassland —
The rich dark hair on your head.
As the moonlight gently passes,
It gently passes by your side;
It brings your dream from you,
Like a bloom in red dyed.
We Are Now Listening to a Tempest
We are now listening to a tempest,
And feeling so lonely in the lamp-light,
In such a small and small hut where we rest,
There are thousands of miles away despite
The distance of utensils is not wide:
The brass stove thinking of its former mine;
Porcelain kettles of th’ clay by riverside,
They are all like birds flying not in line
In the rain. Close we each other embrace,
As if we ourselves could not keep our place.
The gale blows all things high into the air,
The storm drops everything to the earth’s base,
Only leaving this red light dim and rare
To prove that our life just transiently stays.
[The editor's note:: The above work is selected from 300 New Chinese Poems (1917-2012), a Chinese-English college reader published by Poetry Pacific Press in October 2013.]
About the author:
Feng Zhi (1905—1993), originally named Feng Chengzhi, was a native of Zhuoxian County, Hebei Province. In 1921, he was enrolled in
. In 1930, he went to study in Peking University Germany. After his return to China, he successively taught in Tongji University, Southwest United University and . In 1964, he was the director of Foreign Languages Institute of Chinese Peking University . His major works include The Songs of Yesterday, A Northern Trip and Others, A Collection of Sonnets, and A Collection of Western Outskirt (collections of poems). He also had many translated works. Academy of Social Sciences
(Tr. by Yang Xu)