Zhan Bing (Chan Ping) was born Zhan Yichuan in Zhuolan, a township near the northeastern city of Miaoli. After graduating from high school in 1942, he went to Tokyo to study pharmacy at Meiji Pharmacy School and was certified in 1944. For most of his professional life, he taught physics and chemistry at junior high school in his hometown. He retired in 1981 and moved to Taizhong in 1987, where he lives with his wife.
Zhan Bing published his first poems in Japanese in 1941. He started learning Chinese after the war in 1945 and joined the literary society Silver Bell in 1948. He not only is a prolific poet but also has published fiction, essays, film scripts, children’s literature (both drama and poetry), and even an opera. He has won numerous awards for children’s literature; a well-known example is the 1963 poem “Planting Rice Sprouts,” which was included in standardized textbooks for primary schools in 1989.
(published 1943)
(translated by Michelle Yeh)
May,
Green blood cells swim
In transparent blood vessels.
May is just such a being.
May is walking naked.
On the hills: breathing through golden hairs.
In the wilderness: singing through silvery light.
So May wanders, sleeplessly.
(published 1943)
(translated by Michel Hockx and Jim Weldon)
The paddy field a mirror
reflecting the blue skies
reflecting the white clouds
reflecting the dark hills
reflecting the green trees
Farmers plant their rice sprouts
planting in the green trees
planting in the dark hills
planting in the white clouds
planting in the blue skies
(1963)
(translated by Michel Hockx and Jim Weldon)
In an instant,
the feeling of being newborn,
swimming in a transparent body,
no resistance at all.
At this moment,
like reading new poems I want to read
fresh sceneries
wrapped in cellophane.
For instance,
under the algaelike acacia, the tree of love,
a young girl turned fish
waving the fins of her fan.
And after that,
the poésie of the morning
rises toward the world of clouds
like bubbles of CO2.
(1965)
(translated by Michel Hockx and Jim Weldon)
The new season has hatched.
Plants’ clothes begin to breathe.
Loudly vibrating the vitreous atmosphere,
Novalis’s blue flower blooms.
Like musical notes,
splendid photons drip down the corolla.
Like a solar spectrum,
seven-colored time flows from the stamen.
Ah, now
is the time for the poet to adjust the second hand of his watch.
(1965)
(translated by Michel Hockx and Jim Weldon)
LIQUID FLOWS INTO THE CUP OF THE HEART
Like looking for white snakes in green grass
I seek out the white hairs in my wife’s black hair,
carefully plucking them, strand by strand—
wanting to bring back her youth
Her fragrant hair once black and lustrous
strand by strand is turning white because of the toils of life
as I pluck out the white hairs strand by strand
my tears keep flowing into the cup of my heart
I pick up the white hairs that I cast aside lay them out on my palm
strand by strand those white hairs glisten with a silvery sheen
suddenly their silver needles pierce my breast—
blood from the wounds once more flows into the cup of my heart
(1969)
(translated by Michel Hockx and Jim Weldon)