Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Zheng Xiaoqiong

Iron bird

Time is like a grey iron bird fluttering against the window,
Moonlight treading on distant memories saunters into my room.
Mysterious reticent frost scatters, white seeds covering the ground
Have grown into tranquil trees, standing in the North,
Their leaves falling.  I am in the South, looking into the distance, those happy times
Restored in dreams.  The iron bird disappears into silence.
Those made-up faces flash past in-between the trees in the North,
Those imaginary loves of mine, each resembles
A grey iron bird, flapping its wings.

Ijzeren vogel

de tijd slaat als een grijze ijzeren vogel tegen het raam
maanlicht loopt over oude herinneringen door de kamer
mysterieuze, zwijgzame vorst valt neer, dat witte zaad op de grond
groeit uit tot stille bomen, die in het noorden
hun blad laten vallen, in het zuiden zie ik uit over het geluk
dat tijdens de slaap door dromen is hersteld, de ijzeren vogel verdwijnt in de stilte,
de kuiltjes in de wangen die fonkelden tussen de bomen in het noorden
de liefdes die ik ooit verzon, elk daarvan slaat
als een grijze ijzeren vogel met zijn vleugels

铁鸟

时间有如灰色的铁鸟只扑打着窗户
月光踏着久远的记忆踱步室内
神秘而缄默的霜撒落,满地白色的种子
长成一棵棵沉静的树,它们在北方
落叶,我在南方,眺望,那些在睡眠中
被梦恢复的幸福,铁鸟消逝在静寂之间,
那些在北方树木间闪耀而过的面靥
那些曾被我虚构的爱,它们像一只只
灰色的铁鸟,扑打着翅膀
Close

Iron bird

Time is like a grey iron bird fluttering against the window,
Moonlight treading on distant memories saunters into my room.
Mysterious reticent frost scatters, white seeds covering the ground
Have grown into tranquil trees, standing in the North,
Their leaves falling.  I am in the South, looking into the distance, those happy times
Restored in dreams.  The iron bird disappears into silence.
Those made-up faces flash past in-between the trees in the North,
Those imaginary loves of mine, each resembles
A grey iron bird, flapping its wings.

Iron bird

Time is like a grey iron bird fluttering against the window,
Moonlight treading on distant memories saunters into my room.
Mysterious reticent frost scatters, white seeds covering the ground
Have grown into tranquil trees, standing in the North,
Their leaves falling.  I am in the South, looking into the distance, those happy times
Restored in dreams.  The iron bird disappears into silence.
Those made-up faces flash past in-between the trees in the North,
Those imaginary loves of mine, each resembles
A grey iron bird, flapping its wings.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Prins Bernhard cultuurfonds
Lira fonds
Versopolis
J.E. Jurriaanse
Gefinancierd door de Europese Unie
Elise Mathilde Fonds
Stichting Verzameling van Wijngaarden-Boot
Veerhuis
VDM
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