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.
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)
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)
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)
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)