Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Zang Di

MAPLE SYRUP PRIMER

That whole afternoon, the local maple syrup
wriggles its amber figure
and from all sorts of unfamiliar angles
it hawks its wares to you with sweet ancient fists;

To fight back, must you really   
cover your eyes with the politics
of time again? The target is ready-made,
it has been hidden in your body all along;

When it becomes a clear target, it offers
a match of wits, even prettier than objectivity.
All that must be explained is: here,
ancient has its own connotations.

From shiny to sticky, it doesn’t hide
that the sap was collected from maples
forty meters tall; as for those little holes drilled into trunks
as paths for sweetness, their history

goes back sixteen hundred years. This alone
shows the shortcomings of your memory,
only by pouring this syrup
can one return to the wild –

and there, with primeval absorption,
the violence of the sweetness practices
a perfect restraint, and it is able, from the inside,
to awaken you to your pure original form.

INLEIDING TOT AHORNSIROOP

De hele middag wiegt de lokale ahornsiroop
haar taille van amber,
vanaf allerlei onbekende hoeken
bij jou leurend met een zoete, vertrouwde vuist;

hoe een vuist te maken? Het is toch zeker niet nodig
jouw ogen met de politiek van de tijd
nogmaals te bedekken? Het doelwit is gebruiksklaar,
aldoor verstopt in je lichaam;

zelfs als het duidelijk een object wordt, is er toch wederzijdse
wedijver, mooier dan objectiviteit.
Het enige dat moet worden uitgelegd, hier,
is welke connotaties ‘vertrouwde’ uiteindelijk heeft.

Van transparant naar smeuïg, maar zij verhult niet
dat deze boomhoning is verzameld van wel veertig meter hoge
esdoorns; en die kleine in de boomstronk uitgekerfde gaatjes,
dienen als zoete tunnels, hun geschiedenis

is al zestienhonderd jaar oud. Dit alleen al
wijst op de tekortkomingen die in je geheugen bestaan,
en het schenken van deze nectar is dringend nodig
om terug te kunnen keren naar de vrije natuur –

daar lijkt, via de oorspronkelijke digestie,
de zoete kracht met succes een onvoorwaardelijk fatsoen
uit te oefenen, genoeg om van binnenuit
jou direct te wekken tot je pure oervorm.

枫糖液入门

整个下午,本地的枫糖液
扭动着琥珀色的腰肢,
从各种陌生的角度,
向你兜售一击甜蜜的老拳;

如何出手,难道还需要
用时间的政治把你的眼睛
再蒙上一次吗?靶子是现成的,
一直都隐藏在你身上;

即便明确成对象,也是彼此
较着劲,比客观还漂亮。
唯一需要解释的是,这里,
老,究竟涉及怎样的含义。

剔透到浓稠,但它并没隐瞒
这树蜜是从高达四十米的枫树上
采集来的;而那些开凿在树干的小洞,
作为甜蜜的通道,它们的历史

已有一千六百年。仅凭这一点,
它已指出,你的记忆存有怎样的缺陷,
且亟待通过这些蜜液的注入,
才能重返荒野中的停留——

那里,经过原始的消化,
甜蜜的暴力仿佛已练就了
一种绝对的分寸,足以从内部
将你直接唤醒到纯粹的原型之中。
Close

MAPLE SYRUP PRIMER

That whole afternoon, the local maple syrup
wriggles its amber figure
and from all sorts of unfamiliar angles
it hawks its wares to you with sweet ancient fists;

To fight back, must you really   
cover your eyes with the politics
of time again? The target is ready-made,
it has been hidden in your body all along;

When it becomes a clear target, it offers
a match of wits, even prettier than objectivity.
All that must be explained is: here,
ancient has its own connotations.

From shiny to sticky, it doesn’t hide
that the sap was collected from maples
forty meters tall; as for those little holes drilled into trunks
as paths for sweetness, their history

goes back sixteen hundred years. This alone
shows the shortcomings of your memory,
only by pouring this syrup
can one return to the wild –

and there, with primeval absorption,
the violence of the sweetness practices
a perfect restraint, and it is able, from the inside,
to awaken you to your pure original form.

MAPLE SYRUP PRIMER

That whole afternoon, the local maple syrup
wriggles its amber figure
and from all sorts of unfamiliar angles
it hawks its wares to you with sweet ancient fists;

To fight back, must you really   
cover your eyes with the politics
of time again? The target is ready-made,
it has been hidden in your body all along;

When it becomes a clear target, it offers
a match of wits, even prettier than objectivity.
All that must be explained is: here,
ancient has its own connotations.

From shiny to sticky, it doesn’t hide
that the sap was collected from maples
forty meters tall; as for those little holes drilled into trunks
as paths for sweetness, their history

goes back sixteen hundred years. This alone
shows the shortcomings of your memory,
only by pouring this syrup
can one return to the wild –

and there, with primeval absorption,
the violence of the sweetness practices
a perfect restraint, and it is able, from the inside,
to awaken you to your pure original form.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Ludo Pieters Gastschrijver Fonds
Hendrik Muller fonds
Lira fonds
J.E. Jurriaanse
Literature Translation Institute of Korea
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère