17 April 2015
is the image the object?
What Voice Is That?
Suddenly
we hear a voice.
Far away, up above.
It is a space stiff, arrogant hands
will never be able to touch.
A radiance
snow and white nights can never get near to.
In the gloomy soul
it has been planted, dazzling.
It is a shining metal thread
someone plucks from the heart.
Only a god
could open its lips on this
dismal night.
Only a god
could make people stuck fast in sickness
feel moved.
Light:
those who have lost their legs
will all pursue it, gliding away
while those who cannot see the lamplight
reach out their hands
joining with it to become a sparkling ray.
What voice is it
what is the name of this god of song
who gently stirs the pain.
Wang Xiaoni
Labels:
chinese poetry,
light,
photography,
poetry,
river,
shadow,
surface,
translation,
Wang Xiaoni,
water
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