The Poet:
A Hua, born Wang Xiaohua, is from Weihai, Shandong province, China. Her poetry appears in journals such as The People’s Literature, Poetry Magazine, Mountain Flowers, Flying Apsaras and October, as well as in various poetry anthologies. A Hua has several collections of her own, published through Shandong Publishing House of Literature and Art Co., Ltd., among which are Cattails, and What Makes My Heart Swell. A Hua participated in Poetry Magazine’s 25th Youth Poetry Conference, is a student of the 31st Advanced Research Class of the Lun Xun Academy, and is a contract writer for the Shandong Writers’ Association.
The Translators:
Xuelan Su is a Chinese literary translator in Seattle, Washington. She fell in love with A Hua’s poetry during the pandemic, reading virtually with friends to stay connected in an isolating time. Xuelan’s translations of A Hua are published in Alchemy, Lunch Ticket, Ballast, Mad Persona and Iterant; soon to appear in The Ilanot Review, Cordite and Keeping The Flame Alive. Her work with co-translators Ziying Fan and Kexin Song have appeared in anthologies and journals including LIT, Book of Matches and Rhino. Ziying’s and her translation of A Hua was long-listed in the 2023 Stephen Spender International Poetry contest.
Ziying Fan (also, Kathy Z. Fan) is a graduate of Princeton and Oxford Universities, a Google software engineer and Chinese literary translator. At Princeton her focus was 19th Century French literature, as well as classical and contemporary Chinese texts. At Oxford, Ziying obtained a Masters in comparative literature and critical translation. In 2024, she showcased the challenges of translating contemporary Chinese poetry at the Translating Minority Voices seminar series in Toulouse, France. Ziying currently lives and works in Seattle Washington.
About the poems:
From ancient questions of philosophical weight to the quiet, immediate mysteries of wind, birdsong and dusk, these three poems explore humanity’s search for meaning and solace. Against the backdrop of the natural world, they juxtapose intimate, personal longing against vast, sometimes indifferent, landscapes, and suggest true understanding is not found in intellectual or cosmic answers, but in personal, sensory connection. Duality is a recurring theme: beauty coexists with sorrow, stillness is surrounded by turmoil, abundance reigns alongside a sense of emptiness. In the end, each poem returns to the solitary self yearning for recognition, whether through a moon that promises fullness, a special song, or a moment of freely loses oneself in life’s turbulent, beautiful flow.
Blooming Like Flowers, Full Like the Moon
In quiet times I ripen leaning against a locust tree.
At home in Pear Tree Town*
time has the force of dripping water to hollow-out stone.
Rocks tumble. Ribbons of rust bloom.
A raspy horn sings songs of the grasslands.
And yet, with want and sorrow in my heart
I travel home,
silent, alone.
The truth is, I’ve always loved
summer in this backwater place —
the threat of storms; smokey mist blanketing the slopes;
scrawny creeks that swell;
the green mountains’ secret splendor;
how those bugs hiding in grassy hummocks
begin the nightly serenade.
That’s summer, August.
Along the road osmanthus blooms.
Hanging in the sky is a bright bright moon.
Inspired by such such beauty
people say, it’s life blooming like flowers, full like the moon.
*Pear Tree Town is an imagined “paradise” where there is freedom to think and feel.
花好月圆
岁月宁静，我倚着槐树长大
在那个叫做梨树镇的乡村故土
时间有滴水穿石的力量
石头奔跑，锈弦开花
沙哑的小号吹出青草的乐章
而我怀揣着清贫和忧伤
走在去往老家的路上
沉静、落寞
事实是，我一直都爱
这个李节的穷乡僻壤
风雨欲来，烟岚满坡
瘦小的河流走向饱满
绿色的山岭暗藏着锦绣
藏在草丛里的那些昆虫
开始在黑夜里歌唱
那是夏天，那是八月
路边的秋桂树开花了
亮堂堂的月亮，它挂在天上
人们把这些美好的事物
叫做世间的花好月圆
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Questions
Qu Yuan* once wondered, Who fathomed the heavens —
so Herculean a feat? At its genesis, how was it formed?
How were the sun and moon set in place, the constellations arrayed?”
I never ponder questions so profound.
I only want to ask you how the sky grows dark,
how the autumn winds turn cold?
And, the sheep, horses and yaks
dotted across the lush, green steppe, on what do they rely
to find a way home?
If the water is fouled, where do they go to wash?
A lonely soul who loves stark, cold landscapes,
knows too that life is ever cruel; needles hide in silk.
I don’t want to say why joy and sorrow,
in concert, flicker in a heart.
I only want ask about those birds weaving in and out of the thickets along the bank.
What are their names?
In the mountains, fine songbirds abound.
But whose throat sounds a triumphant song for me?
*Qu Yuan (340-278BC): renowned poet and statesman.
疑问
屈原曾经提问，九重之天，是谁测量的
如此巨大的工程，最初又是如何人造它的
日月怎么悬挂，众星又如何陈列
我从来也不思考这么深奥的问题
我只想问问你，天是怎么黑的
秋风是怎么凉的
葱郁的野草间，散落着
绵羊、牦牛和马匹，它们依靠什么
找到回家的路
如果水也脏了，它们去哪里洗濯
一个寂寞的人，喜爱冷峻的山水
生活也总是有，绵里藏针的残酷
我不想说，痛苦与幸福，为什么
会在一个人的心里同时燃烧
我只想问问你，岸边稠密的树丛间
疾闪穿掠的两只飞鸟，叫什么名字
山地里到处都有优质的歌手
哪一个的喉咙里，才带着为我吹奏的小号
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Flowing Water – Time’s Record
Rolling hills cloaked in thatch-grass. Flowing water
rippling with gentle waves. In this joyous moment I’m so in love
the despair in my heart hardly matters.
In September. I climb high and gaze into the distance.
From Wutong Town I look out on the vast landscape, an ocean of pine forests.
A few clouds dot a peach-colored sky.
The land in autumn brims with fruit.
But I saw blazes,* fierce and dazzling,
casting a veil across the fields, eerie yet bright.
This world of dust is at times cool and gentle,
accessible, at times abysmal and foul —
each with its own tally.
Only you can hear the voice in my heart,
that tempest. I’m willing to lose myself
once in a while in the whirlwind of life.
In September. I climb high and gaze into the distance.
In Wutong Town I look out at the mountains, the water, the fading yellow daisies.
I look at how turning around, it all becomes nothing…
everything like still water,
all of it thrills the heart, takes my breath away.
*refers to the practice of burning rice chaff in the fields after the harvest
A Hua, poet; Su Xuelan & Fan Ziying, translators
(All poems featured on this page: Original Chinese poem from “Cattails” © 2016 Shandong Publishing House of Literature and Art Co., Ltd.)
流水。时光记
山峦披着茅草的外衣，流水带着
小簇的波浪，我迷恋这片刻的欢愉
内心的怅惘，可以忽略不计
九月，登高望远，我在梧桐乡
看天地空旷，松林如海
几朵云彩，铺满桃色的天空
秋天的大地，到处都是果实
我却看到了燃烧*，浓烈、炫目
映照着原野，诡异而妖艳
这尘世，偶尔温柔、清凉
触手可及，偶尔凝滞、幽深
各有各的算计
只有你能听见，这内心的声音
汹涌极了，生命的水涡里
我愿意偶尔这样，迷失方向
九月，登高望远，我在梧桐乡
看山，看水，看枯萎的旋覆花
看转头成空，一切都如止水
一起都动魄惊心
作者：阿华 / 王晓华
作品：《香蒲记》2016 © 山东文艺出版社有限公司
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