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CHEN XIUXI

(1921–91)

Born in Xinzhu in northwestern Taiwan, Chen Xiuxi (Ch’en Hsiu-hsi) published her first volume of poetry, written in Japanese, in Tokyo in 1970. After realizing with a shock that her children could not read her Japanese poems, Chen began writing in Chinese and published four volumes in a short period of time, which secured her reputation in poetry circles. An English translation of her work, On Love, was published in 1978 by the Bamboo Hat Poetry Society.

Chen’s poetry is admired for its characteristic simplicity in language and unaffected style. Affectionately known as “Auntie Poet” to her colleagues, Chen served as president of the Bamboo Hat Poetry Society. After she passed away in 1991, an annual poetry prize was established in honor of her contributions.

GRAVE SWEEPING THIS YEAR

I want to hold my father and sob

but all I touch is

a cold hard tombstone

A familiar name

adorned in gilded letters, made strange

some clutch it and wail

yet it stuns me

My back to the tombstone

the mountains of my home

so majestic

push me away, into the winds of Grave-Sweeping Day

I kneel by the hyacinths

a melancholy purple

I break up the morning dewdrops with my lips

in my heart a refrain:

the tombstone is not my father

the tombstone is not my father

(published 1970)

(translated by Wendy Larson)

LOVE

A wondrous bird soars in

no set course

no one knows when or where it comes from

it flies here not to seek a nest

the tree never takes a stance of refusal

its hands toward the skies as if wanting something

if that bird flies onto the tree

the branches willingly bear

this most beautiful ornament

and even hope the bird will lose its wings

the tree longs to become a strong lock

because the marvelous bird on its branches

glitters more than a medal

an existence even more solid than the setting sun at the treetop

the tree awaits a wondrous bird

(published 1971)

(translated by Wendy Larson)

TAIWAN

Shaped like a cradle, the flowery island

is Mother’s

eternal loving bosom

Proud-boned ancestors

scrutinize our steps

nursery rhymes are

their oft-repeated caution

rice straw

banyan trees

bananas

waft the scent of Mother’s inexhaustible milk in the air

however high the waves of the straits

however fierce the whirling typhoons

we won’t forget their earnest words

as long as we march in step

as long as the cradle is sturdy

the cradle is eternal

who doesn’t love the cradle Mother has left for us?

(published 1974)

(translated by Wendy Larson)

MY PEN

Eyebrows are the colony of the eyebrow pencil

round lips the territory of the lipstick

I am happy that my pen

outlines neither eyebrows nor lips

“colony,” “territoriality”

each time I see these words

the sorrow of having been colonized rises in me again

count tonight’s sighs

caressing my veins

surging blood moves my pen

on paper moistened by tears

it fills the page:

I am Chinese

I am Chinese

We all are Chinese

(published 1976)

(translated by Wendy Larson)

MAYBE IT’S THE WEIGHT OF A POEM

Lofty trees worry about peals of thunder

trodden grass does not envy big trees

the grass rallies its roots and leaves, awaits the call to stand up

The plum flower does not sigh over its smallness, but is happy with its fragrance

it envies not the glorious colors of the thorny rose

At ease with themselves, the ancients learned from nature lessons of peace

it is nothing unusual for dawn to shine after darkness

after frustration the age of wisdom arrives

Poetry has a powerful source of energy, a sincere loving heart

maybe a poem can topple the earth

maybe a poem can save all the people in the world

maybe a poem can release energy

to let us hear freedom and peace, live together and flourish

like the echo of an angel’s call

(published 1978)

(translated by Wendy Larson)