Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Zang Di

PRIMER OF MY BROTHER ANTS

Whenever I wore black clothes
in places where color was most elated
your little silhouette was everywhere.
The sigh of black silk is always lurking in
the secret stitching. Never
is there a lack of delicate black veils
dedicated to bone hard work. In dream country,
black muscles bar the brawny
star-vault of love. Even my demanding heart
did not imagine my final escape would be
so primitive. I don’t know if I should
apologize a bit because for so long
I have had these strange feelings
for you. I want to step over the chasm
between us. Suddenly, strangely,
and for no reason I publicly declare
you my brother. Around me, the spring wind
decimates; now, there are few ideal
specimens left to observe.
There is something in you
blacker than a specter.  All year long,
there is not one day you are not rehearsing
the epitome of life. Your tenaciousness
is so black, it makes frightening specters
feel a nameless sadness. Some petals
have started to fall, but the landscape in April
still reminds me of immense breasts.
You are blind, but it is your blindness
that draws you to your purpose.
When you move, you are like strokes of calligraphy
writing the encyclopedia of heaven under my feet.

INLEIDING TOT MIJN BROERTJE MIER

In de zwarte kleren die ik heb gedragen
op de plaatsen met de levendigste kleuren
was overal jouw kleine silhouet geregen.
Zuchten van zwarte zijde verschuilen zich steeds
in geheime naden. Nooit
ontbreekt het aan zachte zwarte sluiers
opgedragen aan harde botten. In het dromendomein
smoren zwarte spieren de goed ontwikkelde
sterrenhemel der liefde. Zelfs mijn vastbesloten hart
had totaal niet gedacht dat de allerlaatste uitgang
zo primitief kon zijn. Ik weet niet of ik
me niet een beetje zou moeten verontschuldigen,
want sinds lang koester ik over jou
voortdurend ongezonde gedachten.
Ik wil over onze kloof stappen,
vreemd, plotseling, zonder enige reden,
in het openbaar jou mijn broertje noemen.
Om mij heen dunt de lentewind flink uit,
er blijven maar weinig ideale studieobjecten over;
maar er is iets aan jou dat zwarter lijkt
dan een schim; het hele jaar door
is er bijna geen dag dat je de microkosmos van het leven
niet repeteert. Jouw hardnekkigheid
is zo zwart, het laat angstaanjagende schimmen
een naamloze verlorenheid voelen.
Sommige blaadjes gaan al verwelken,
maar in april doet moeder aarde me nog altijd denken aan
een gigantische borst. Jij bent blind,
en door die blindheid nader je een doel:
in beweging lijk je op de gebroken, zwarte ledematen van het schrift,
maakt het hemelse boek onder mijn voeten af.

我的蚂蚁兄弟入门

我穿过的黑衣服中
凡颜色最生动的地方
无不缀有你小小的身影。
黑丝绸的叹息,始终埋伏在
那隐秘的缝合部。任何时候
都不缺乏献给硬骨头的
柔软的黑面纱。来到梦境时,
黑肌肉堵着发达的
爱的星空。甚至连横着的心
都没有想到最后的出口
竟如此原始。我不知道我
是否应该表达一点歉意,
因为长久以来,我对你
一直怀有不健康的想法——
我想跨越我们的鸿沟,
陌生地,突然地,毫无来由地,
公开地,称你为我的兄弟。
身边,春风的淘汰率很高,
理想的观摩对象已所剩无几;
而你身上仿佛有种东西,
比幽灵更黑;一年到头,
几乎没有一天不在排练
人生的缩影。你的顽强
甚至黑到令可怕的幽灵
也感到了那无名的失落。
有些花瓣已开始零落,
但四月的大地看上去仍像
巨大的乳房。你是盲目的,
并因盲目而接近一种目的:
移动时,你像文字的黑色断肢,
将天书完成在我的脚下。
Close

PRIMER OF MY BROTHER ANTS

Whenever I wore black clothes
in places where color was most elated
your little silhouette was everywhere.
The sigh of black silk is always lurking in
the secret stitching. Never
is there a lack of delicate black veils
dedicated to bone hard work. In dream country,
black muscles bar the brawny
star-vault of love. Even my demanding heart
did not imagine my final escape would be
so primitive. I don’t know if I should
apologize a bit because for so long
I have had these strange feelings
for you. I want to step over the chasm
between us. Suddenly, strangely,
and for no reason I publicly declare
you my brother. Around me, the spring wind
decimates; now, there are few ideal
specimens left to observe.
There is something in you
blacker than a specter.  All year long,
there is not one day you are not rehearsing
the epitome of life. Your tenaciousness
is so black, it makes frightening specters
feel a nameless sadness. Some petals
have started to fall, but the landscape in April
still reminds me of immense breasts.
You are blind, but it is your blindness
that draws you to your purpose.
When you move, you are like strokes of calligraphy
writing the encyclopedia of heaven under my feet.

PRIMER OF MY BROTHER ANTS

Whenever I wore black clothes
in places where color was most elated
your little silhouette was everywhere.
The sigh of black silk is always lurking in
the secret stitching. Never
is there a lack of delicate black veils
dedicated to bone hard work. In dream country,
black muscles bar the brawny
star-vault of love. Even my demanding heart
did not imagine my final escape would be
so primitive. I don’t know if I should
apologize a bit because for so long
I have had these strange feelings
for you. I want to step over the chasm
between us. Suddenly, strangely,
and for no reason I publicly declare
you my brother. Around me, the spring wind
decimates; now, there are few ideal
specimens left to observe.
There is something in you
blacker than a specter.  All year long,
there is not one day you are not rehearsing
the epitome of life. Your tenaciousness
is so black, it makes frightening specters
feel a nameless sadness. Some petals
have started to fall, but the landscape in April
still reminds me of immense breasts.
You are blind, but it is your blindness
that draws you to your purpose.
When you move, you are like strokes of calligraphy
writing the encyclopedia of heaven under my feet.
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