A butterfly from the State of Zhao
fled war turmoil and famine, drifting all the way to the State of Chen…
Li Ziguo
Li Ziguo, pen name Xicun, is a poet and First-Class Writer. He works as a Senior Editor at Stars Poetry Journal and has been awarded the National Honorary Medal for Thirty Years of Service in Periodical Publishing.
His poetry collections include The Third Eye, Salt of Life, Walking Forest, My Book of Soul (2018–2019), Deities of the Rider-Herdsman (Chinese-English bilingual edition), and The Crow’s Enclosure. His works have been anthologized in more than one hundred selected volumes, won dozens of literary awards of various kinds, and translated into multiple foreign languages.
He is a Member of the Chinese Writers Association, Director of the Chinese Poetry Society, Vice Chairman of the Sichuan Provincial Poetry Society, Vice Chairman of the Sichuan Provincial Association for Literary and Art Communication, and Vice Chairman of the Sichuan Youth Literature Association.
李自国，笔名西村，诗人，一级作家，《星星》诗刊编审，获国家从事期刊出版工作30年荣誉奖章。著有诗集《第三只眼睛》《生命之盐》《行走的森林》《2018一2019我的灵魂书》《骑牧者的神灵》（中英文）《乌鸦的围墙》等。作品入选百余种选集，获各类文学奖数十次，被翻译为多种文字。中国作家协会会员，中国诗歌学会理事，四川省诗歌学会副会长，四川省文艺传播促进会副会长，四川省青年文学协会副会长。
Translated by Ma Yongbo
Laozi and the Butterfly
A butterfly from the State of Zhao
fled war turmoil and famine, drifting all the way to the State of Chen
Along the winding endless road, it met Laozi, breathless and weary
Laozi fell for the butterfly’s silhouette at first sight
The chill butterfly slipped into Laozi’s dream, pouring forth endless gratitude
before it knew it, it became an indentured bride betrothed to the autumn wind
The Tao Te Ching, laid high on a shelf
murmured soft drizzling whispers from an armchair
Laozi jolted awake from his somniloquy, letting his two arms fall limp
arms that once soared over a stretch of green mountain ridges
Recalling his oft-chanted maxim: “Cultivate virtue within yourself, and true integrity shall abide.”
Laozi’s face burned crimson, the unruly butterfly filled him with overwhelming regret
老子与蝴蝶
一只赵国的蝴蝶
为躲避战乱和饥荒，飘泊到陈国
在蜿蜒不息的路上，遇见气喘吁吁的老子
老子与蝶影一见钟情
冷蝴蝶撞入老子梦中，不停的感恩戴德
不小心作了秋风的童养媳
束之高阁的《道德经》
从太师椅上，流出喃喃细雨声
老子从梦呓中惊醒，无力地垂下两只
飞翔过一脉青山的手臂
想到自己念念有词的“修之于身，其德乃真”
老子满脸酡红，出格的蝴蝶使他后悔万分
Du Fu’s Thatched Cottage
The lowly thatched cottage, through the midnight wind’s howl
utters the hardship of wandering exile, like an old rustic farmer from the fields
the cottage cranes its neck to gaze afar, longing for
the imperial troops to return after recapturing Henan and Hebei, yet it only greets
the Mid-Tang Dynasty sliding from prosperity to decline
The cottage endures wind and dew, catching fleeting glimmers of hope
the cottage totters amid storms, its inner spirit tossed and unsettled
the cottage greets the joyful spring night rain, and again and again cries out to the sky
“Chengdu now rests safe from peril,” “All things in Chengdu go well.”
This cottage steeped in the grace of regulated verse stands tall
its frame forged by tonal cadence and rhyme
resting upon the thread-bound volumes of Tang poetry
standing firm above the Great Tang shattered by An Lushan’s rebellion
standing firm above the empty satchels left behind after The Three Officials and The Three Partings
The unrestrained, open Cottage of Du Fu
the resilient thatched cottage that bends low to rise grandly again
every straw upon its roof wails wildly as it grows rampant
each tuft of thatch is a wisp of hoary hair. How I wish the whole nation
and ten thousand households sheltered under spacious mansions could live in joy
all dwelling in ease, all bathed in bright light
All night long the Huanhua Stream flows; a stanza forged from bitter sweat and lonely tears
sustains a gaunt, sleepless night. I vow to glorify rivers and mountains through poetic meter
the ancient land of Shu staggers forward with faltering steps
these thatches along the thousand-year-old Shu Road, their cry blazes into sword-like valor
they sprout the pastoral integrity of The Book of Songs’ Picking Vetch
they nurture the boundless heaven, earth and moon born of Chu Ci and Li Sao
杜甫的茅屋
低矮的茅屋，用子夜的风啸声
说出颠沛之艰，如一介田夫野老
一间茅屋伸长脖子仰望，盼等那个
收复河南河北的官军归来，却等来
一个由盛而衰的中唐
茅屋在餐风露宿、片羽吉光
茅屋在风雨飘摇、心旌摇荡
茅屋在春夜喜雨，在不停地仰天长啸
“成都适无虞” “成都万事好”
七律悠然的茅屋，以平仄腰身
挺立在一卷唐诗的线装书之上
挺立在被安禄山揉碎的大唐
挺立在三吏三別后的空空行囊
大大咧咧的草堂
小屈大伸的茅屋
它的每根茅草，都在哀嚎而疯长
一丛茅草，一丛白发，安得华夏
与广厦俱欢颜的万户千家
一齐被悠游，一起被照亮
一夜浣花溪，一阙苦汗与孤泪的
瘦夜无眠，誓言用格律去炳焕山河
古蜀国的步履踉踉跄跄
这些千载蜀道的茅草啊，啸成剑气
长出采薇的诗经，长出楚辞与离骚的
朗朗乾坤与月亮
With a Drop of Bell Chime, I Wait for You in the Covenant of the New Year
I am touched by year-end wisdoms
like fresh green leaves gifted by the New Year
glad prince, you catch loose winds or let them run free
you disregard the yearly pact
which stretches like a lifetime, your fervent words for everyone alike
all souls glow in the old year’s last glow, held by Mother Earth
who watches your twelve months. Cosmic order stands unshaken
sun and moon carve life’s rings. When heart and soul bloom a birdsong rainbow
I glance back. The moment our eyes lock, we plant gold into earth
I have not yet known life’s true shape
each New Year dawn greeting, each dusk tea
guides me home: gentle parents, quiet kitchen smoke
is this warmth worldly simplicity, or hardship’s alien charm
visit no kin in poverty; return not home in wealth. I must learn wisdom
five hundred long stares kindle one fleeting earthly encounter
I ask the village locust not to repeat old tales, nor do I fake hollow closeness
I falter, as the New Year bell bursts wild and unrestrained
I draw away yet keep you etched in mind, a fruit charmed by each passing second
I seek no stolen joy, no vain renown. When time slips away like a fleeting steed
only inner goodness is wrapped day and night in your timeless, precious sanctuary
携一滴钟声，等你在新年的契约里
让我感动于这些岁末的教诲
就像是新年馈赠给人间的每片绿叶
快乐的王子，风被你捡漏、或是传销
你似乎全然不在意，一年的契约
如一生一世，对谁都一样的慷慨陈词
对谁都一样被年末的尾灯照亮，都有大地母亲
回眸你的十二个月份。规律永不动摇
日月撼动年轮，当身心竖起一道鸟鸣的云霓
蓦然回首，目光交会的刹那，去泥土播撒黄金
是的，我还不懂得生活的样子
新年的每滴晨安，每道晚茶
就像故乡的方向，父母慈祥，炊烟安康
是来自世间的外部，还是并肩于年荒的异景
穷不走亲，富不回乡，该涨知识了吧
头颈有五百次凝眸，唤醒今生一次擦肩
没让村口的老槐树翻唱经典，或对错口型
我踌躇着，新年的钟声变得不顾一切
就这样远离你，又记取你，被分秒催眠的果实
不求摘取，不求贪婪殊荣，白驹过隙之后
唯有内心的善行，旦夕间被你珍贵的时光秘境包围
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Read: Book of Heavy Snow – Chinese Poetry
