By: Ramesh Raja

Good news is emerging for Sindh and Pakistan’s maritime future. China has shown fresh and serious interest in the development of Keti Bunder Port, opening the possibility that a historic but long-neglected port at the mouth of the Indus Delta could once again become an important maritime gateway. On 24 August 2026, China Harbour Engineering Company (CHEC) presented a Conceptual Master Plan for Keti Bunder Port to President Asif Ali Zardari. The proposal envisages a new deep-water maritime gateway with multiple terminals, logistics facilities and supporting infrastructure. Its proposed Phase-I includes a 500-metre multipurpose quay, with a preliminary engineering cost estimate of approximately US$522.34 million. The President called for continued technical coordination to refine the plan and determine an appropriate implementation and financing framework. It is important, however, to distinguish between a conceptual proposal and a finalized project. Keti Bunder has not yet become a modern deep-sea port, and the US$522.34 million is a preliminary Phase-I engineering estimate, not an announced Chinese financing commitment. The project remains at the conceptual and planning stage, but Chinese technical interest has nevertheless given fresh momentum to the idea of reviving Keti Bunder as a major maritime gateway.

Pakistan’s Coastline and Sindh’s Maritime Potential

Pakistan possesses a strategically important coastline along the Arabian Sea. Commonly cited figures put the country’s coastline at approximately 990 kilometers, extending across Sindh and Balochistan, with about 270 km along Sindh and 720 km along the Makran Coast of Balochistan. This coastline provides Pakistan direct access to the Arabian Sea and the wider Indian Ocean, placing the country close to major international maritime trade routes. Pakistan’s three principal commercial seaports are Karachi Port, Port Qasim and Gwadar Port, of which Karachi Port and Port Qasim are located in Sindh and Gwadar in Balochistan. Sindh also has several smaller fishing harbours, jetties and coastal landing facilities, particularly around the Indus Delta, including Keti Bunder and Shah Bunder. If the proposed development succeeds, Keti Bunder could eventually give Sindh a third major commercial maritime gateway, alongside Karachi Port and Port Qasim. Its strategic importance becomes even greater when viewed in relation to Pakistan’s neighbouring landlocked countries. Afghanistan has no coastline, while Tajikistan, Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan are also landlocked. Pakistan’s ports therefore have the potential to provide these countries with access to the Arabian Sea and international maritime trade.

Keti Bunder’s History and Its Present Condition

Keti Bunder is located in Thatta District, Sindh, at the southern end of the Indus Delta where the river meets the Arabian Sea. It is not a newly conceived port. It is a historic maritime center whose rise and decline were closely connected with the changing channels of the Indus. The Indus Delta has historically produced and destroyed ports as river channels shifted, sediment accumulated and the coastline changed. Earlier ports such as Shah Bunder and Vikkur Bunder declined as navigation conditions changed, while Keti Bunder emerged as an important commercial center. During its prosperous period, Keti Bunder connected the Indus Delta with maritime trade across the Arabian Sea, while agriculture and fishing supported the local economy. But the same geography that created its prosperity eventually contributed to its decline. Changes in the Indus river system, sedimentation, reduced freshwater flows into the lower delta and the rise of Karachi as the dominant commercial port of Sindh all contributed to Keti Bunder’s loss of importance. Today, Keti Bunder is not comparable with Karachi Port or Port Qasim in international commercial operations. It primarily serves the local fishing economy and small-scale maritime activities. Its present significance is therefore largely related to fishing, local coastal activity and maritime security. Yet the location remains strategically valuable because of its direct relationship with the Indus Delta and the Arabian Sea.

From Fishing Harbour to Deep-Sea Maritime Economic Corridor

The proposed revival of Keti Bunder is much broader than simply constructing a new quay. The Sindh Government has been considering a wider maritime and economic development corridor, potentially involving fisheries, seafood processing, logistics, industrial development, energy infrastructure and a future commercial deep-sea port. The proposed development could include modern fishing harbours, fish auction and landing facilities, cold storage, seafood processing, deep-sea commercial berths, container and multipurpose terminals, warehouses, logistics facilities, industrial zones and energy-related infrastructure. Such development would need strong road and potentially rail connectivity. The principal road corridor is Karachi → N-5 → Gharo → N-110 → Keti Bunder. The Karachi–Gharo section follows the National Highway N-5, while N-110 is the Gharo–Keti Bunder Highway, approximately 90 km long. This provides a definable connection between Keti Bunder and Pakistan’s national road network. The concept should therefore be viewed as port + road + rail + logistics + industry + energy + fisheries, rather than simply a harbour project. A successful port is an economic ecosystem in which cargo, industry, transport, storage, energy and maritime services reinforce one another. Keti Bunder’s location could eventually support a trade corridor extending from Central Asia and Afghanistan through Pakistan to the Arabian Sea, providing landlocked countries with an alternative maritime gateway to global markets.

The Engineering and Environmental Challenge

The greatest challenge facing Keti Bunder is also the most important engineering question: water depth and sedimentation. Gwadar benefits from a naturally favourable open-coast deep-water setting, while Karachi has a naturally sheltered harbour that has subsequently been extensively engineered and dredged. Keti Bunder, in contrast, lies within the sediment-rich Indus Delta. Modern dredging can create a deep navigation channel, but the real question is whether the required depth can be maintained economically and reliably year after year. The project therefore requires detailed hydrographic surveys, bathymetric mapping, sediment-transport modelling, navigation-channel design and maintenance-dredging studies. Capital dredging is only one part of the cost; annual maintenance dredging could become a decisive factor in the port’s long-term economics. Coastal protection will also be critical. Depending on detailed studies, the project may require breakwaters, revetments, riprap protection, jetties or other shoreline-protection structures. However, such structures must be designed carefully because altering natural sediment movement in the Indus Delta could transfer erosion or deposition problems to neighbouring areas. Equally important is environmental protection. The delta’s mangroves, tidal creeks, mudflats and fisheries are valuable natural assets that protect the coastline, support biodiversity, store carbon and sustain local communities. Any future Keti Bunder port must therefore be based on integrated coastal-zone management, environmental impact assessment, climate-resilience studies and meaningful consultation with fishing communities. The ultimate test will not simply be whether a deep-water port can be constructed, but whether it can be operated and maintained economically without damaging the ecological and social systems on which the Indus Delta depends.

A Historic Port with a New Strategic Future

Keti Bunder once prospered because of the Indus and the Arabian Sea. History turned it into a small fishing settlement, but its strategic location has never lost its importance. The new Chinese interest could now give this historic port another opportunity. CHEC’s presentation of a conceptual master plan marks an important step in bringing Keti Bunder back into Pakistan’s maritime development discussion. However, ambition must be matched by engineering realism, transparent feasibility studies and careful environmental planning. Before construction begins, Pakistan should establish the exact port location, natural bathymetry, offshore depth contours, approach-channel alignment, required navigation depth, capital and annual maintenance-dredging requirements, sediment behaviour, breakwater requirements, navigation safety, climate resilience, environmental impacts, road and rail requirements, cargo forecasts and the most appropriate financing and PPP structure. Pakistan should also ensure that the development complements rather than unnecessarily duplicates Karachi Port, Port Qasim and Gwadar. If properly planned, Keti Bunder could become more than a revived historic port. It could become an integrated maritime economic corridor connecting Sindh, Pakistan, Afghanistan and potentially Central Asia with the Arabian Sea and the wider global ocean economy. Pakistan’s approximately 990-kilometre coastline, including about 270 km in Sindh, gives the country a significant maritime advantage, while Sindh’s existing two major commercial ports, Karachi Port and Port Qasim, provide the foundation for further maritime expansion. Keti Bunder could eventually become a third major commercial gateway for Sindh. The Indus created Keti Bunder, the sea sustained it, and history changed it. Now engineering, investment and responsible planning may give it a new future.

Read: Sindh: Maritime Heritage and Economic Potential

__________________

The author of this article, Engr. Ramesh Raja, is a Civil Engineer, visionary planner, PMP certified and literary enthusiast with a passion for art and recreation. He can be reached at engineer.raja@gmail.com  

The post Keti Bunder: Historic Port’s Maritime Future first appeared on Sindh Courier.

Meets another,

One gust and another

Merge into

A greater gust.

Liu Chunchao

Liu Chunchao is a painter‑poet. He currently serves as Director of Guyuan Art Museum in Zhuhai. He is a member of the Chinese Writers Association, the China Artists Association, and the Chinese Society of Music‑Literature. He has won the Second Prize of the National Youth Poets Poetry Competition (no First Prize awarded), the Su Manshu Literature Award, and other honours. His works have been published in periodicals and newspapers including People’s Literature, People’s Daily and Poetry Periodical, and anthologized in publications such as A Century of New Chinese Poetry. He has published four poetry collections: The Empty Chair, Gratitude for Water, Such Are the Facts, and A Four‑Square‑Metre Sea. He completed studies at the 9th Advanced Poetry Workshop of Guangdong Province and the 22nd Ethnic Minority Writers Training Class of Lu Xun Academy of Literature. In 2016, the symposium Things Beyond My Reach — A Symposium on Liu Chunchao’s Poetry was co‑hosted by People’s Literature Magazine, Guangdong Provincial Writers’ Association and other institutions. He was invited to the 2018 Xu Zhimo Poetry & Art Festival in Cambridge, UK, where he held the lacquer‑painting exhibition Lotus and Prajna / Poetry‑Painting Cambridge — Liu Chunchao Lacquer‑Painting Art Exhibition, and received the Xu Zhimo Art Award.

刘春潮，画家、诗人。现为珠海古元美术馆馆长。中国作家协会会员、中国美术家协会会员、中国音乐文学学会会员。获“全国青年诗人诗歌大赛”二等奖（一等奖空缺）、苏曼殊文学奖等，发表于《人民文学》《人民日报》《诗刊》等报刊，入选《新诗百年》等选本。出版个人诗集《空椅子》《感谢水》《事实如此》《四平方的大海》。结业于“广东省第九届诗歌高级研修班” 、鲁迅文学院第二十二期少数民族创作培训班。2016年由人民文学杂志社、广东省作家协会等单位主办“我不能企及头顶上的事物——刘春潮诗歌研讨会”。应邀出席“2018英国剑桥徐志摩诗歌艺术节”并在艺术节上举办《莲知般若/诗画剑桥——刘春潮漆画艺术展》,获“徐志摩艺术奖”。

Translated by Ma Yongbo

The Wind Blows Over Me

One gust of wind

Meets another,

One gust and another

Merge into

A greater gust.

One wind begins in imagination,

One wind ends

At morality.

风吹我

一阵风与

一阵风相遇

一阵风与一阵风

合并成

更大的一阵风

一阵风始于想象

一阵风止于

道德

***

The Official

My elder sister, elder brother and I

Have all built our own families and careers.

Towards my sister and me,

Father still treats us like children,

Scolding and chiding us freely.

My brother is a department‑level cadre.

Father actually has no idea

What this rank really means,

He only knows it makes him an official.

Yet every time after he berates my brother,

Consciously or unconsciously,

he glances at his face.

官

姐姐哥哥和我

均已成家立业

对我和姐姐

父亲依然像对待孩子一样

呵来斥去

哥哥是厅级干部

其实父亲并不知道厅级

是什么职务

只知道这是个官

但每次呵斥完哥哥

父亲会自觉不自觉

看看他的脸色

***

Mango Blossoms

They come in utter silence,

As if overnight,

Crowding every bough.

These surging blooms,

After their surge,

Will at last subside into stillness.

Blossoms born for fruit‑bearing,

They are destined to be passers‑by.

They trespass too early into spring’s forbidden zone,

And shall also be the first to be buried under winter snow.

Look, what lavish sunlight

Spreads over the grass strewn with mango blossoms,

Like my gradually shattered land and rivers —

A riot of blossoms,

Utter desolation.

芒果花开

她们来得悄无声息

仿佛一夜间

站满了整个枝头

这些汹涌的花朵

澎湃之后

终会归于平静

这些为结果而来的花朵

注定都是过客

她们过早的涉入春天的禁区

也将最先被冬雪所覆盖

瞧  多么奢侈的阳光

铺满芒果花的草地

如我日渐破碎的山河

繁花似锦

一片荒芜

______________ 

Read: Tree‑Nest – Poetry from China

The post The Wind Blows Over Me first appeared on Sindh Courier.

Hides within a trembling line of verse

Only the jagged wind sweeps sharply across the lake

Far deeper than the crowns of trees

Liang Xuebo

Liang Xuebo, poet and poetry critic. Born in 1973. Author of poetry collections Broken Knife at Midnight, Book of Rain, and The Lamp mender. He is the recipient of the Jiangsu Biennial Award for Young Poets (2012 2013), the 9th Jinling Literature Award, the 2nd Li Bai Poetry Award, and the 4th Hai Zi Poetry Award, among others. He serves as Executive Deputy Editor of the avant garde poetry journal Fei Fei and Executive Editor of Turbulence. He currently lives in Nanjing.

梁雪波，诗人，兼事诗歌评论。生于1973年。著有诗集《午夜的断刀》《雨之书》《修灯的人》。曾获江苏青年诗人双年奖（2012-2013）、第九届金陵文学奖、第二届李白诗歌奖、第四届海子诗歌奖等。先锋诗刊《非非》执行副主编，《湍流》执行主编。现居南京。

Translated by Ma Yongbo

Tree‑Nest

The snow‑cloaked mountain woods hold a hush too fragile for ink

Metasequoias stand sharp‑erect, as if growth has come to a halt

Ancient secrets stored atop the treetops

Drift like a cloud — to the mortal world below

A half‑finished paradise

Birds are nowhere to be seen. The vanishing they pursue

Hides within a trembling line of verse

Only the jagged wind sweeps sharply across the lake

Far deeper than the crowns of trees

The jay’s heartbeat merges wholly with the snow‑bound silence

Reflections of distant mountains sway inside the cup

In the mythic garden where paths fork apart

For that electric, jolting gaze shared with a jay years ago

Snow falls thicker still

Burying all footprints left by the visitor

Far mountains: pills exchanged between my eyes and the jay’s

That jagged wind rips open my disquiet too

The wind blows, and the tree‑nest sways

As though the heart of the world lies on a doubter’s sickbed

Unrelenting, the reckless wind

Blows through crabapple, black locust, withered willow and plum

Drawing the jay’s cry into a vaster darkness

树巢

雪后的山林有不忍落墨的空寂

水杉峭立，仿佛停止了生长

蓄积在树顶的古老的秘密

如一朵浮云——相对于尘世来说

那是完成一半的天堂

飞鸟不知去向，她们追求的消逝

像隐身于一行颤栗的诗

只留下锯齿形的风，急掠湖面

在比树冠更高的深处

松鸦的心跳与雪的寂静合二为一

杯中晃动着远山的倒影

在小径分岔的玄圃，为多年前

与松鸦的一次电击般的对视

雪下得更密了

覆盖了造访者来时的足迹

远山，是我与松鸦眼中互换的药丸

这锯齿形的风也割开了惶然

风吹过，树巢摇晃

仿佛世界的中心陷入怀疑者的病榻

风不停歇，它孤注地

吹过海棠、刺槐、枯柳和梅

把松鸦的鸣叫纳入更广阔的黑暗中

***

Eaves‑Snow

They catch the grace descending out of heaven

With patience more enduring than the trees

When I wake from the cold night under the frigid moon

I push the window open; snow gleams toward me

Revealing the crisp, cool depth of time

I watch several grey finches on the sloped roof

Plunging down in glee

Like a troop of schoolchildren refusing their breakfast

And the darkness drunk the night before, almost ashamed

Becomes the most sunken hollow in the garden

Snow holds the elasticity of language. It shapes

One thing out of another

Inside the snowman’s frame lie people’s dramatized inner lives

As snowballs are rolled bright

Someone long‑lost reappears within the scenery of the season

All winter long I have nothing to do

The boughs stand bare, as if brooding

On how to carry a fall of snow northward — carrying snow to fill a well

Across the undulating roof tiles

Good and evil hasten each toward their native home

Yet one who gazes up at snow upon the eaves will still, for long

Take root within the dark

檐雪

它们接住了从天空降下的美意

用比树木更为持久的耐心

当我从寒宵冷月中醒来

推开窗，迎面的雪闪着光

显示出时间甘冽的厚度

我看见几只灰雀在屋顶的斜坡上

欢快地俯冲

像一群不肯吃早饭的小学生

而昨夜饮下的黑暗，几乎羞愧地成为

花园里最凹陷的那个部分

雪有语言般的弹性，用一种事物

塑造另一种事物，在

雪人的身体里，藏着人们戏剧化的内心

当雪球搓亮，一个失踪多年的人

重新出现在季节的风景中

整个冬天我无所事事，枝条光裸

仿佛酝酿着

如何将一场雪运往北方，担雪填井

起伏不定的屋瓦上

善恶都在奔赴各自的故乡

而一个仰望檐雪的人，仍将长久地

在黑暗中扎根

***

Rain in the South

Rain has played all through July night in the South

I wake from dreams, loosely holding an empty cup

My breath sinks into darkness. Piled‑up books

Still keep the thickness of paper and the secrets of words

Frog croaks drift in from outdoors

Steady and urgent, like a telegram out of memory

Solitary raindrops hanging over olden days

Have dampened my temples, I know not when

In truth nothing can be clearly heard: stations, sleep‑talk, the eyes of trees

Truly, this July rain

is but cool fingermarks gliding over black piano keys

Shards of glass cutting close to the inner weather of the heart

Everything slows down in the rain

Low‑humming cargo boats, an emperor’s rebuke, and time’s white bones

Within the folds of rain, a young horse still slumbers

He breathes warm vapours onto my face

Amid the rising chirp of birds

His lifted hooves bear mud from last night’s thunderous downpour

南方的雨

雨，在南方的七月弹了一夜

我从梦中醒来，虚执空杯

呼吸沉入黑暗，堆积的书

还保持着纸的厚度和词的秘密

屋外传来的蛙鸣

持续而急促，像一封记忆的电报

对应于陈旧时光的孤悬的雨滴

不知何时弄湿了耳际

其实什么也听不清：车站、梦呓、树的眼睛

其实一场七月的雨

只是滑过黑色琴键的微凉的指痕

切近内心气候的玻璃碎片

在雨中一切都慢下来了

低鸣的货船，皇帝的呵斥，与时间的白骨

在雨的褶皱里，年幼的马仍在熟睡

他朝我的脸喷着热气

在渐起的鸟鸣中

他翘起的足尖嵌着昨夜轰响的泥

__________________

Read: Half of Spring – Poetry from China

The post Tree‑Nest – Poetry from China first appeared on Sindh Courier.

Preserved from the ravages of all-destroying time clad in sharp armour.

Tianjie

Tianjie, born in Huangyan, Zhejiang Province in 1969, is a medical worker and member of the Chinese Writers Association. He embarked on literary creation in 1986 and had his works published starting in 1988. He attended the 24th Youth Poetry Session and the 10th Reminiscence of Youth Poetry Session hosted by Poetry Periodical under the Chinese Writers Association. He has brought out three individual poetry collections, alongside numerous co-authored anthologies and critical essay collections. He is the recipient of multiple Annual Excellent Creation Awards issued by Zhejiang Writers Association. He serves as Editor-in-Chief of Zhejiang Poets and Chairman of Huangyan District Writers Association of Taizhou City.

天界，1969年出生，浙江黄岩人，医务工作者，中国作家协会会员，1986年开始写作，1988年开始发表作品，曾参加中国作协《诗刊》社第24届“青春诗会”、《诗刊》社第十届“青春回眸”。出版诗集三本，著有合集、评论集等多部。多次获浙江省作家协会年度优秀创作奖等奖。《浙江诗人》主编；台州市黄岩区作家协会主席。

Translated by Ma Yongbo

Ancient Road of Song Dynasty Charm

The pavilion halfway up the mountain stands like a solitary mystical gate,

dividing heaven and earth into two realms. —

We take seats inside the pavilion.

A surging force rises, like a colossal whirlpool of years.

It is like a massive mirror,

automatically unfolding the cycle of mortal life and death before our eyes.

Flowers on the hillside sway gently in the breeze,

blossoming more gorgeously, yet steeped in silent sorrow.

The ancient road stretches eastward, weathered and proud,

preserved from the ravages of all-destroying time clad in sharp armour.

Our eyes at this moment rule over heaven and earth in their stead,

surveying this empty yet beguiling mortal world.

宋韵古道

半山腰的凉亭，像一座不二玄门，

分割整个天空和大地。——

我们坐在凉亭里面。

似乎有汹涌的力量，如岁月巨大漩涡。

如一面巨大镜子。

在我们面前自动演绎人世间生死。

山坡上的花，轻轻摇曳着。

越发地艳丽。又带着某种沉默的殇。

古道通向东方。沧桑，睥睨。

从披坚执锐，毁灭一切的时间里留下。

我们此刻的眼睛，替代天地主宰，

巡视虚无又充满诱惑的世界。

***

Car Window

Does the sunset secretly foretell some possibility?

Through the car window, that breath-taking face is still crystal clear.

Is turning around meant for a finer reunion?

The sunset lies shattered.

Shattered by window glass,

shattered by a hoarse, farewell uttered with every ounce of strength.

It is a pair of rough palms,

brushing over a delicate face, aching to the core.

No follow-up unfolds. Has the story reached its end?

There must still be words left unspoken —

车窗

夕阳正神秘地预示某种可能？

透过车窗，仍然清晰看到令人窒息的脸。

转身是为了更好遇见？

夕阳是破碎的。

——是被玻璃破碎的。

是被一句低沉，用尽全力的道别。

是一双粗糙的手，

抚摸过精致，无比心痛的脸。

并没有下文。故事是否结束？

肯定还有没说出来的话——

 ***

Start of Spring

The train waking up in the small hours speeds toward a dim tunnel far away.

No red signal lights, no derailment either. —

A sleeping soul casts off wariness and naivety entirely.

On this lovely night, we all clench our own hands,

grit our teeth to survive, never betray a secret to anyone —

Life brims with romance, yet hardship lingers all the same.

Stars hang firm above the vault of heaven.

I pour remorse from the wine flask, also the honey from years gone by.

Beyond the window is nothing but cold wind, the dawn is about to break.

Those who cease chasing the meaning of joy

are fighting against a gilded mask.

Birth shapes who you are, abstraction can alter nothing at all.

In stillness, only sorrowful wild fantasies and ferocity remain.

Like a sorcerer, between you and me,

he schemes tirelessly to bridge two separate worlds.

立春

 下半夜醒来的列车，从远处开向灰暗隧道。

没有红灯也没有脱轨。——

一个沉睡的人，卸下警惕和幼稚。

美好的夜晚，我们都是握着自己双手，

咬紧嘴唇活下来并从不告密——

生活充满浪漫，而艰辛。

星星始终悬于天穹。

从酒壶里取出后悔，取出多年前的蜂蜜。

窗外除了冷风，天色即将发亮。

停止寻找快乐意义的人，

正在对抗黄金面具。

生是你的人，抽象也改变不了什么。

安静时，只剩下悲伤的疯狂想象和暴力。

像一个巫师，在你我之间，

费尽心机沟通两个世界。

___________________

Read: Harbin Reminiscences – Poetry from China

The post Ancient Road of Song Dynasty Charm first appeared on Sindh Courier.

yet the city’s tale begins amid throngs of suffering.

Wang Xinbiao

Wang Xinbiao, born in Harbin in 1964, is a member of Heilongjiang Writers Association. He once served as Deputy Editor-in-Chief of Today Consumer News, where he authored and published more than one thousand news articles of various genres. He wrote the 300,000-word biographical reportage China’s Sugar King. He has penned documentary scripts for CCTV and Harbin Television Station. He worked as literary editor for the film Chang Longji, and co-authored the full-length film novel Deadly Strike. He began publishing poetry in 1983. His poems have appeared in periodicals including Young Poets, Poetry Forest, The Poet, Poetry Newspaper, Flying Apsaras, Northern Literature and Poetry Exploration. His essays have been published in South Reviews and Japan’s New Overseas Chinese News. His play Positive Publicity won the Second Prize at the National Short Play and Sketch Competition organized by the Ministry of Culture. He scripted the ice acrobatic dramas Ice Show • Dream-Seeking and Encounter • Harbin, both funded by the National Arts Fund of China. As a core creative team member, he was awarded Heilongjiang Provincial Annual Cultural Award (Acrobatics Category). Ballads of Drivers, an album featuring eleven lyrics written by him, was published and distributed by Huasheng Audio & Video Publishing House. He has published Watching Clouds Drift By, a selected poetry collection from his youthful years, and many of his poems have been included in various anthologies.

王鑫彪，哈尔滨人，1964年生，黑龙江省作家协会会员。曾任《今天消费报》副总编辑，撰发各类体裁新闻逾千篇，曾创作30万字传记报告文学《中国糖王》；曾为央视、哈尔滨电视台撰写专题片脚本；曾为电影《常隆基》文学编辑，与人合作创作长篇电影小说《绝杀》；1983年开始发表诗歌作品，散见于《青年诗人》《诗林》《诗人》《诗歌报》《飞天》《北方文学》《诗探索》等；有杂文发表于《南风窗》、日本《新华侨报》等；剧本《正面宣传》获文化部全国小戏小品大赛二等奖，所编冰上杂技剧《冰秀•寻梦》、《遇见•哈尔滨》获国家艺术基金资助，曾作为团队主创人员获黑龙江省年度文化（杂技类）大奖；作词11首的《司机谣》，由华盛音像出版社出版发行；曾刊行青春期诗歌自选集《看云去》，有诗作被收录于不同选集。

Translated by Ma Yongbo

Harbin Reminiscences (Suite of Poems)

《哈尔滨往事》（组诗）

1. 1. Central Street

To travel back a century, and

to freeze time, is less difficult than imagined.

Break open the shell; the sky has brightened.

Memories pave the dark brown cobblestones.

Dark brown souls stretch, unfolding postmodern agony.

It is a chaotic morning; horse hooves shatter the silence.

A white horse, and a noblewoman

in a long white dress reeking of foreign flesh.

Buildings and trees are steeped in sorrow.

A past from ten thousand miles away is transplanted in parallel,

alongside suffering, planted in the dark brown late autumn.

The dispossessed, now dispossess others once more.

A vicious cycle of immorality finds its footing in another land.

Generals and soldiers are not yet fully decayed,

yet the city’s tale begins amid throngs of suffering.

1、中央大街

回到上一个百年 并且

定格 未如想象中困难

敲开蛋壳 天空 已亮起来

记忆 铺满深褐色的面包石

深褐色的灵魂伸展后现代痛苦

这是混乱的早晨 马蹄声碎

一匹白马 和一袭白色长裙的

腥膻贵妇 建筑和树都在悲怆

万里之外的曾经 平行移植

连同痛苦 种于深褐色的深秋

被剥夺的剥夺者 再行剥夺

失德的循环 在另一个国度落笔

将军与士兵 尚未完全腐烂

而城市故事 已从一群痛苦开篇

2. Old Harbin Railway Station

Blurred tear-filled eyes, drunken eyes, drowsy eyes.

The drifting remaining life docks in an alien land.

The elegant station draws near, embracing you like an infant held tight.

It is a toxic mushroom, bursting forcibly from the earth —

breathtakingly beautiful, yet capable of killing in moments.

All that admiration is paler than a sun drained of blood.

We know the devil’s nerves, sturdy as oak,

often sink bloodthirsty deep roots within frail bodies,

even adorned with every strange novelty of this world.

This is foreshadowing of a paradox laid a century ago.

A bloodsucking mouth, kissing time’s lips deeply.

The entanglements destined for dust bloom into eternal flowers.

2、老哈尔滨火车站

泪眼 醉眼 与睡眼 朦胧中

漂浮的余生 于陌生之地停靠

漂亮的车站 亲近你恰如紧抱婴孩

这是毒蘑菇 强行破土而出

美得让人窒息 却分分钟夺命

那些欣羡 比失血的太阳更苍白

我们知道 魔鬼粗壮如橡的神经

往往于孱弱之躯扎下嗜血的深根

哪怕点缀这世间所有新奇的玩具

这是百年前 埋下的悖论的伏笔

一张吸血的口 深吻时光的嘴唇

归于尘土的纠结 幻成传世之花

3. Impressions of Soviet-style Apartment Blocks

A soft quilt of snow, blinding white.

The earth lays down its rigid frame.

An all-pervading hush, yet death remains unconfirmed.

Sturdy timber frames uphold an alien way of living.

Branches beside chimneys lift a streak of rose warmth

toward the sky, where Volga gloom surges.

The shapes of houses and bridges matter no longer.

Strangers long to belong, yet strangers can never belong.

We cannot reconstruct those

lives enclosed within these buildings: wine and sausages,

bayan melodies and dancing steps, guns and hearths,

shared joys, or separate misfortunes.

On this cold, oppressive day,

you can hear the footsteps of wandering souls.

3、苏联房印象

松软的雪被 耀眼的白

大地放平僵硬的 身躯

一派死寂 但不确定死亡

坚固的木架撑住陌生的生存

烟囱的枝条 将一抹玫瑰暖色

举向天空伏尔加河涌动的阴沉

房子和桥 如何造型已不重要

陌生想要融入 陌生难以融入

我们无法还原 那些

建筑之中的生活 酒精和香肠

巴杨和舞步 枪和壁炉

相似的幸福 或各自的不幸

这个寒冷而压抑的 白天

你会听见灵魂流浪的跫音

4. Winter Square

The sky blazes; bare

crowns of trees veil the multicoloured banners.

Large patches of blood lie abandoned upon the snow.

Unusual-shaped buildings are daubed with long-absent passion.

Whether it is dawn or dusk,

light flickers restlessly on gleaming windowpanes.

The wind has stilled. Restlessness

yawns, suspended for a while.

Everything turns into still lifes.

Each silent object brews its own mood.

At this moment, one may wonder

what state of mind confines these foreign men and women.

A sorrow always clings to wanderers,

be it dusk, or dawn.

4、冬日广场

天空烧起来 光秃的

树冠 遮蔽斑斓的旗帜

雪上 遗落了大块血迹

异形建筑 涂满久违的热情

这个黎明 或是黄昏

在耀亮的窗玻璃 反射不定

风已经停下来 躁动

打着哈欠 暂时停下来

一切都站成 静物

静物们酝酿各自的情绪

此刻 也许可以揣度

怎样的心境框住了异邦男女

总有一种难过缠绕流浪的人

无论黄昏 或是黎明

5. Saint Sophia Cathedral

God slumbers, God wakes,

within the grand building called cathedral,

upon dazzling onion-shaped domes,

amid prayers loaded with hidden agendas,

in dust glowing with radiance,

in the hearth chamber between heaven and earth.

Blazing crimson sunset clouds set off the pale snow.

Scraggly shrubs stand in ragged rows

at the feet of this colossal divine figure,

like soul-less scarecrows

rooted on this broad, complacent field.

Arrogance and humility circle one another tentatively,

yet scorn and animosity can barely be concealed.

God wakes, God slumbers.

5、索菲亚教堂

上帝睡去 上帝醒来

在被称作教堂的大房子

在眩目的洋葱头穹顶上

在各怀心腹事的祷告中

在光彩照人的 尘埃里

在天空与大地之间的炉膛内

彤红的火烧云映衬惨白的雪

奇形怪状的矮树丛 不甚整齐

列队于神祇巨无霸的足下

恰如失去魂魄的稻草人

兀立大腹便便的田野

傲娇与卑微 试探着互动

却难以掩饰鄙薄 和仇视

上帝醒来 上帝睡去

6. Old Apartment Complexes

Without enclosing fences, you

would never tell this is a courtyard.

Last night’s thorough snow bath

leaves the two buildings vigorous and whole.

Stables, or firewood sheds,

a clumsy makeshift combination.

The fusion that spans time and space

evokes a wry smile, like a buffoon’s show.

The tongue-tied residents

can never be friends with outsiders.

Dwellings are far too plain,

just one turned page of life.

Yet shadows scatter chaotically across the snow,

heavy piled clouds are crackling, blazing aloft.

6、老楼群

没有圈起的栅栏 你

不会看出 这是院落

昨夜一场酣畅的雪浴

两座楼宇 精神饱满

而马圈 或是柴房

一次拙劣的混搭

让跨越时空的交融

小丑一样让人莞尔

舌头打结的房主

不会与别宫为友

太简单了居所

翻过的一页生活

然而雪地上的影像纷杂散乱

浓重的积云 正噼啪烧起来

____________________ 

Read: The Moon and Wild Geese

The post Harbin Reminiscences – Poetry from China first appeared on Sindh Courier.

Between heaven and earth, our houses, trees, mountains and rivers glow as bright as day.

Wherever moonlight falls, human figures shrink small and slight.

Han Wenge

Han Wenge, male, born in 1964, is from the mountainous eastern Hebei region and currently lives in Shijiazhuang. He began writing poetry and published his first poem in 1982. He has released numerous poetry and prose collections, including A Auspicious Village, The Fading Summer, Beneath the Clear Sky, All Living Things, Epic of Yan Village, Xugu Ancient Town, Where Blossoms Bloom, and To the Yanshan Mountains. He has received a variety of poetry awards.

韩文戈，男，1964年生，冀东山地人，现居石家庄。1982年开始诗歌写作并发表第一首诗，先后出版诗（文）集《吉祥的村庄》《渐渐远去的夏天》《晴空下》《万物生》《岩村史诗》《虚古镇》《开花的地方》《致燕山》等多部，获多种诗歌奖。

Translated by Ma Yongbo

The Moon and Wild Geese

There is always a bright full moon hanging over nights long gone.

Between heaven and earth, our houses, trees, mountains and rivers glow as bright as day.

Wherever moonlight falls, human figures shrink small and slight.

The smaller these figures drift deeper into my memory, the hazier they grow.

Silvery plumes of the moon drift across the pale blue sky; dreams are older than night itself.

Wild geese drag their own shadows behind them,

Shadows cast over mountain ridges, river bends and ancient temples.

They drift slowly across the Yanshan Mountains, glide past upturned faces, flying south or north.

As they soar over borders, they gaze down upon humankind below,

Watching our aged grandfathers and grandmothers, our young fathers and mothers.

Grandpa and Grandma carry grey clay chamber pots, trundling back to old rooms.

Fathers fresh from work carry shoulder poles to draw water under the moon, watering their vegetables and tobacco plants.

Mothers feed swill to pigs and fodder to sheep in the pens.

Magpies and crows that flitted by day have retreated to treetop nests to slumber.

The geese stretch out their cries, clear as moonlight piercing autumn chill and spring frost.

(As if they are the souls of ancient kin, brushing across the vast night sky.)

My playmates and I dragged our thin, frail shadows too,

Running across this plain yet barren old homeland—back then, not one of us was missing.

月亮与大雁

总有一轮皓月高悬在逝去已久的夜晚

天地之间，我们的房屋、树木、山河亮如白昼

凡月光照临的地方，人们又矮又小

矮小的人越往我记忆深处游走，愈加模糊

淡蓝色夜空飘浮月亮银色的羽毛，梦比夜更古老

大雁拖着自己的影子

那影子投射到山脉丘陵、河湾寺庙

缓慢移过燕山，移过仰起的脸庞，飞向南方或北方

它们一边俯视低处的人类，飞过国境线

一边看着我们年老的祖父祖母、年轻的父亲母亲

祖父、祖母提着灰陶尿盆慢慢走回旧房间

刚收工的父亲们在月亮地里挑水浇灌自家的蔬菜和烟草

母亲们往猪圈、羊棚投喂着猪食、草料

白天的喜鹊、乌鸦都已躲进树顶的窝巢打盹

大雁拉长叫声犹如通透的月光穿透秋凉与春寒

（仿佛总是它们，古老亲人的灵魂，擦过夜晚的长空）

我和我的伙伴们也拖着瘦小单薄的影子

奔跑在简单但贫瘠的旧大陆，那时我们一个也不少

***

Labour

In the terraced orchard, a man trims fruit trees

Gripping his pruning shears, perched atop a wooden ladder.

He bends branches that barely survived the winter,

Humming a song amid thawing winds.

It is early March, a fading morning.

The sun climbs over the eastern hill, half-lighting his face and fully mine.

Behind us, the rising black mountain slope blazes pale white.

Grass shoots in wind-sheltered nooks, sharp magpies, crows and sparrows—

They must listen to him sing often, happier than I am.

Soon sap will quicken inside the tree trunks at the sound of his tune,

Swelling tiny buds upon every bough.

This is a song I long forgot; he must be my contemporary.

It has been years since I heard tunes from our youth,

Years since I saw anyone labouring,

Humming an old song from a distant age.

Spring has come. Try it yourself, just as I do now.

劳动

梯田果园里，那个为果树剪枝的男人

紧握着修枝剪，骑坐在木梯顶上

他一边弄弯越冬不久的枝条

一边在解冻的风里，哼起一首歌

这是三月上旬正在逝去的清晨

太阳越过东山，照着他半张脸也照着我整个脸庞

在我们身后抬升的黑山坡亮得发白

避风处的草芽和凛冽的喜鹊、乌鸦、麻雀

一定常常听他唱歌，应该比我幸福

过不了多久，歌声中的果树树液

就要在树干内加速，催出枝头小小的花蕾

这是一首被我遗忘的歌，他应属于我的同龄人

很久没有听到我们年轻时代的歌了

很久没有目睹，还有人一边劳动

一边哼着一首遥远年代的老歌

春天来了，你也试试吧，就像此刻的我

***

Song of the Accordion

(Dedicated to a village female teacher of my teenage years)

The young woman of yore walks down the old street with a worn accordion slung over her back.

She carries the love of those days, a secret love newly requited.

She hums old songs from that era, stepping in time as if to ancient drumbeats.

Her pace quickens, growing lighter as she passes lines of schoolchildren heading home.

The children sing too, white teeth shining, bright lips parted.

Red scarves tied round their necks, their small heads bobbling.

She blends in with them, passing plain carpenters, bricklayers,

Blacksmiths, bamboo weavers and metal menders.

They wander past cattle and sheep, farmlands, lakes, woods,

And tidy yet impoverished villages and towns.

In an instant, she and the children take flight,

Floating just like their songs. Her white silk scarf drifts like a wisp of cloud,

As tender as her secret love, now finally affirmed.

Now she shifts the accordion to her chest, as if cradling an armful of blooming flowers.

Above plants and livestock, she draws music from the bellows.

Her melody merges with the earth’s steady rhythm, intertwined with her youth.

She soars across the blue sky, the sole lyrical poet of that age.

手风琴之歌

（献给一位我少年时代的乡村女教师）

 那个旧时的姑娘身背旧手风琴走在旧时的街道上

怀着那时的爱情，秘密的爱情刚刚得到回应

她唱着那时的老歌，踩着那时的步伐，像踩在老鼓点上

她越走越快，越走越轻，穿过成队放学的孩子

孩子们也唱歌，白白的牙齿，明亮的嘴唇

他们系着红领巾，晃动小小的脑袋

她和他们成了一伙，穿过朴素的木匠、泥瓦匠

以及铁匠、篾匠、焗锅匠

穿过牛羊、田野、湖泊、树林和干净又贫穷的村镇

不一会，她和他们就飞了起来

像他们的歌那样飞，她的白纱巾她的白云

像她秘密的刚刚得到确认的爱情

现在，她把琴挪到前胸，像抱着一捧盛开的花

在植物与动物的上空，拉响了手风琴

像她的琴音和大地的鼓点，像她的青春

她开始在蓝天上飞，成了那个时代唯一的抒情诗人

____________________ 

Read: Half of Spring – Poetry from China

The post Poetry: The Moon and Wild Geese first appeared on Sindh Courier.

our fates stitched in the same pair of trousers.

Han Yuguang

Han Yuguang, male, born in Yuanping City, Shanxi Province in July 1970. He began writing poetry in the late 1980s and has published poetry collections The Moon of 1970 and Light Catcher.

韩玉光，男，1970年7月生于山西原平市，二十世纪80年代后期开始诗歌写作，出版诗集《1970年的月亮》《捕光者》。

Translate by Ma Yongbo

Half of Spring

Where the qin lies, its melody lingers on, I and Ji Kang

our fates stitched in the same pair of trousers.

I have wandered crashing into the Southern Mountain time and again

certain history books are never worth glancing back at, true enough

I share one straw hat together with Tao Yuanming.

The whole spring is a pair of embroidered cloth shoes

Li Bai took one away for his journey, time will never treat me unfairly

it shall reserve the other shoe for me

only a shoelace is missing, no great matter.

Look at the Hutuo River

rushing forth, coming straight from the north of the county town.

二分之一的春天

琴在，琴声就在，我和嵇康

的确穿着一条裤子。

南山撞了无数回

有些史书不值得回头看，没错

我和陶渊明戴着同一顶帽子。

整个春天是一双绣花鞋

李白穿走一只，时间不会亏待我

会把另一只留给我

还差一根鞋带，不要紧

你看滹沱河

正从县城的北面赶来。

***

Ode to the Zither

I am worthy of but one zither all my life

at least twice each day

when my fingers brush my ribs, the urge to play surges up.

Leanness is undoubtedly an inherited grace

the strings of my zither

are unlike any others beneath heaven.

This ancient qin clad in mortal flesh, untouched by gods or ghosts

I play and sing alone to myself.

What trembles upon the strings

is not my own shuddering.

It is the shadow

I can never shake off through all my years—

this posthumous child of light!

琴赋

我这一生只配有一把琴

每天至少两次

在摸到自己肋骨的时候，生出弹奏的念头。

瘦，无疑是遗传的美学

我的琴弦

不同于世上别的琴

这披着人皮的古琴，神鬼也不能染指。

我自弹自唱

琴弦上泛起的

并非自己的颤抖

而是我

一生都甩不掉的影子——

这光的遗腹子！

***

The Low Ground

Stepping out onto the wilderness alone

all mortal distractions melt away entirely—

Fallen leaves swirling thick may serve for my flesh

the setting sun sinking into the river

may become my heart

Once the horizon

fills my field of vision, I behold the years gone by

Half my life has already been buried deep

no more burying

this is my bottom line

低处

一个人来到旷野上

已然杂念全消——

那落叶纷飞，可做我的身体

那落日沉河

可做我的心

而一旦地平线

成了我的视线，就会看见岁月

已埋了我的半生

不能再埋了

这是我的底线

___________________

Read: Laozi and the Butterfly – Chinese Poetry

The post Half of Spring – Poetry from China first appeared on Sindh Courier.

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

_________________

Read: Book of Heavy Snow – Chinese Poetry

The post Laozi and the Butterfly – Chinese Poetry first appeared on Sindh Courier.

The whole mortal world trembles gently along with you.

Lv Mu

Lv Mu, birth name Zhang Yongfa, was born in Jishishan, Gansu Province in 1988. He serves as an editor for the monthly literary magazine Qinghai Lake, a member of the Chinese Poetry Society and Qinghai Provincial Writers Association, and a participant in the 36th Minority Writers Workshop at Lu Xun Academy of Literature.

His poems have been published in numerous journals including National Literature, Chinese Campus Literature, Contemporary Poetry, Poetry Monthly, Stars Poetry Journal, Caotang Poetry Journal, Feitian Literature, Qinghai Lake and Snow Lotus. His works are collected in anthologies such as Sixty Years of Excellent Xinjiang Poetry, Ten Years of Qinghai Literature (Poetry Volume) and Anthology of Chinese Ethnic Minority Poetry.

He received the Newcomer Award at the 2nd National Rural Poetry Grand Prix and the Third Prize in the 2023 Global Poetry Contest of Qinghai Lake Poetry Festival, and was shortlisted for the 4th China Contemporary Poetry Award. He has published two poetry collections: Songs of Little Birds and I Wait for You by Qinghai Lake. He currently resides in Xining.

绿木，本名张永发，1988年生于甘肃积石山，系《青海湖》文学月刊编辑，中国诗歌学会会员，青海省作家协会会员，鲁迅文学院第36期少数民族作家班学员，作品散见《民族文学》《中国校园文学》《当代.诗歌》《诗歌月刊》《星星诗刊》《草堂》《飞天》《青海湖》《雪莲》等，入选《新疆60年诗歌精品》《青海文学十年选（诗歌卷）》《中国少数民族诗选》等多种选本，曾获“第二届全国乡土诗歌大奖赛”新秀奖，2023“青海湖诗歌节全球诗歌征文”三等奖，入围第四届“中国当代诗歌奖”，著有诗集《小鸟之唱》《我在青海湖边等你》，现居西宁。

Translated by Ma Yongbo

Book of Heavy Snow

From the tinkling of countless mountain streams,

from jagged cliffs split open on barren hills,

from the hush left behind when lunar tides recede…

Ah, this is no shiny panpipe of silver sheen,

this is an age of silver bestowed by heaven.

Freeze over, freeze over—gathering myriad clear new births.

The dull cold ache lodged in the flesh

needs no testimony to prove its existence.

(At what hour shall we melt into blank emptiness?)

When the season bends down to gaze at its own reflection,

the whole mortal world trembles gently along with you.

Birdsong hangs suspended mid-air, never falling to earth;

a faint trail of footprints leads straight to the wooden cottage gate.

Is it the self who once wandered apart and lost its way?

There is no need for anxious brooding.

Ahead, amid the morning glow, winter plums are blaring forth

a solitary, resounding ode to spring.

大雪书

自众多溪水的叮咚

自荒山破裂的巉岩

自月潮退却后的寂静

……啊，这并非银亮的排箫

这是天赐的白银岁月

冰封，冰封，汇集众多明澈的初生

身体中寒凉的淤痛

未必需要证词

（我们将在怎样的时辰汇入空白？）

当时节俯向自身的倒影

整个人间便随你微颤

空中未落的鸟鸣

一行浅浅的脚印通向柴扉

可是走散的自己

无需多虑

前方晨曦中，梅花正高奏着

孤绝的春曲

_____

Ballad of Late Autumn

I hear the steed from my dreams

has settled on the high hills of hometown.

I hear the wilderness stretch vast and bare;

frost arrives overnight,

shaking the hidden cares of plants and trees

into golden fragments covering the ground.

Autumn deepens.

The deepened autumn is a cold, drowsy pool,

cradling an unseen tiger in its depths.

Clouds chant their own ballad,

water hums its own ballad, wild ducks croon theirs,

forever singing of a world shrouded in pale reeds.

All things dissolve and drift apart in the wind:

some will bloom anew, others vanish forever.

The mere thought of this

fills my heart with sorrow and joy intertwined.

深秋的歌谣

听闻梦中的骏马

已在故乡高高的山坡安家

听闻四野寥廓

寒霜一夜之间登场

将草木之心事

摇落成遍地黄金

秋深了

深了的秋是一泓暝寐的寒潭

怀抱着看不见的老虎

而云有云的歌谣

水有水的歌谣，野凫的歌谣

时时唱颂着一片蒹葭苍苍的人间

万物都在风中爢散

有的还将重生有的永远消逝

一想到这些

我就悲欣交集

_____

Encountering Snow Upon Homecoming

Snow falls on the road, falls on

the farmland, and heavier snow settles deep within my heart…

Past days and future paths

blend into boundless misty white.

Oh, hometown,

I have come back.

Oh, Mother,

I have come back.

I am but a fleeting wanderer,

clutching fervent affection alone,

to embrace you tight.

From afar I behold

mother standing before the old house,

beside the gnarled, lopsided elm tree with weathered bark.

Before I draw near enough to stand beside her,

her voice drifts to my ears: My child,

why has so much snow

landed upon your head?

回乡遇雪

雪落在路上，落在

田野，更大的雪落在心里……

往昔与前程

一片苍茫

噢！故乡

我回来了

噢！妈妈

我回来了

我是个短暂的旅人

空怀一腔热情

拥抱您

远远就看见

老屋门前站立的母亲，与

老皮皴裂的歪脖子榆

还没走到母亲跟前

就听到母亲的声音: 娃啊

咋有那么多雪

落在了你的头上

______________________

Read: Grassland in Mist – Poetry from China

The post Book of Heavy Snow – Chinese Poetry first appeared on Sindh Courier.

She is younger than my own son,

And I am captivated by the poplar breath within her verses.

 We are two raindrops:

One falling to the southern slope of the Tianshan,

One to the northern slope.

Ma Yongbo

Ma Yongbo is renowned for his modern avant-garde poetry and translations of European and American verse. In recent years, he has also composed ancient-style poems and traditional regulated verse. His works weave together the vast, rugged experiences of northern China, the tranquil contemplation of his study in Jinling, landscapes encountered on his travels, and intimate reflections on family life. Meticulously crafted in formal meter and rhyme, his verse carries contemporary thematic threads, free from the stale clichés of old literati, blending ecological lyricism with profound meditations on individual existence.

Cultural Contribution: The first Chinese scholar to systematically translate post-WWII American postmodern poetry, building a bridge for Sino-American poetic exchange and advancing the transformation of avant-garde Chinese poetry.

Poetic Contribution: Introduced postmodern techniques such as meta-poetry, polyphonic narration, and complex individual experiential writing, revolutionizing the aesthetic and intellectual depth of contemporary Chinese verse.

Shared Heritage: He carries forward the same mission as ancient scripture translators. Bridging civilizations across two languages, he revitalizes native Chinese literature with foreign artistic nourishment and unlocks brand-new expressive horizons for the Chinese language.

[Journeying westward into Central Asia, I wandered through the ancient city of Samarkand and the Tianshan Mountains near Almaty. I visited royal mausoleums, explored ancient madrasas, and gazed upon snow-capped peaks beneath endless clouds. Witnessing the rise and fall of the Silk Road across a thousand years, I pondered the convergence of Eastern and Western civilizations. All mighty empires shall turn to dust, yet poetic spirits and civilizations endure in communion. Verses were penned casually along the way and gathered into this collection]

Poetic Traces of the Silk Road

Two Raindrops upon the Tianshan

 I have never stood at the foot of the Tianshan Mountains,

Until Almaty fulfils this long-held longing.

Had I not journeyed here, I would travel west from the Northeast,

To Xinjiang, gazing up at snow on one flank of the Tianshan.

Almaty rests, bathed in light, upon the other.

Here I meet a quiet young woman poet.

She is younger than my own son,

And I am captivated by the poplar breath within her verses.

We are two raindrops:

One falling to the southern slope of the Tianshan,

One to the northern slope.

To cross the mountain range takes only a small plane,

An hour of life, and one precise word.

We may never meet again in this lifetime,

Yet through language and poetry,

This chance encounter

May become an eternal memory for us both.

Still, a quiet regret lingers:

You were not born when I came into the world;

I have grown old when you bloom.

Between morning glow and sunset lies a whole life.

Yet we remain two raindrops,

Landing on the same umbrella canopy.

Brief, intimate patter,

Echoing all night within the poem — or forever.

 (Composed at dawn, 28 July 2026, while walking in Almaty)

Arriving in Almaty, Gazing at the Tianshan Mountains

Clouds line the northern foothills, stretching to distant frontiers;

The apple-hued city leans beneath the boundless firmament.

Heroes through ages are inscribed on these steep ridges;

Layered spruces spread green over rolling hills.

Snow peaks silently witness a thousand years of tales;

Cultural threads still draw through frost ten thousand li afar.

Speak not of worthy souls rewarded for noble fellowship;

Heaven’s wind already bears this verse’s lingering charm.

(Noon, July 26, 2026)

Reflections on Inscribing Verses in the Guest Book

at the Auezov Institute, Almaty

On one sheet inscribed, my message to far borderlands I send;

The endless wind unfurls the chapters of the Silk Road.

Desert clouds surmount a thousand layered mountain ridges;

Poetic words link all lands, sharing the wine of communion.

Through long days, contemplation sees the world’s myriad forms;

With original aspiration bearing truth, I journey to distant shores.

Where Eastern and Western cultural veins converge and meet,

We shall live worthy of mountains, rivers and endless years.

(Almaty, July 26, 2026)

The Ile Alatau Snow Mountains

Ranges of snow loom high, leaning o’er the northern town;

Peaks surge toward the sky, majestic and renowned.

This mountain chain divides the roads to Central Plains;

Clouds link two homelands famed for apple orchards’ gains.

Mists on southern slopes once belonged to Tang domain;

Pine shadows on north hills stand watch by border camp terrain.

Gladly, verse serves as ferry when our paths intertwine;

No need to grieve the journey o’er mountains and seas far-line.

(Almaty, evening, July 27, 2026)

Setting off for the airport to return home

Chance Encounter in Almaty

I had never met Tianshan’s snow until this hour,

The deep spring of Apple city soothes my longing heart.

Our ages differ like sunrise and sunset’s glow,

Our kindred spirits merge as two tears gently flow.

Steel wings span the sky, linking the northern mountain slope,

I tap poetic sparks to send my mood toward the eastern cope.

This fleeting encounter lives through endless ages,

I mourn no wild geese lost amid time’s changing stages.

 (2026.07.27, Almaty, Kazakhstan)

(Revised at Pudong Airport, July 28, 2026 before departing for Ice City)

Reflections on Visiting Timur’s Mausoleum

The glazed dome traps the glow of evening light;

Six generations’ grand ambitions rest on barren height.

Once his iron cavalry swept o’er Europe and Asia wide;

He built this famed metropolis, where diverse tribes abide.

His wise grandson scanned the heavens, probing starry spheres;

Royal glory and campaign dust linger on stele galleries.

All empires through a thousand years turn into earthly mould;

Only the charm of the Silk Road flows endlessly of old.

(Samarkand, July 23, 2026)

At Gur-e-Amir Mausoleum

Meditation at Registan Square

Three grand madrasas stand against the spacious wall;

Tiered turquoise glaze locks in the heaven’s sprawling pall.

Lord Ulugh scanned the skies, exploring starry spheres afar;

Carved lions grace the walls, defying creed’s strict law.

Gilded domes glow faintly, ghosts of ancient dreams remain;

Weathered ruins breathe cold mist through ages of rain.

The olden chants of learning drift away with wind’s soft tide;

Across desert wastes, the Silk Road stretches far and wide.

(Samarkand, July 23, 2026)

Registan Square

Visiting the Shah-i-Zinda Necropolis

Long galleries clad in blue glaze hold the mist of dusk;

Tombs of the Living King recline beside wild pathways husked.

Shards of enamel glow with hues that mirror heaven’s sphere;

Arched vaults bear carved inscriptions of the ages past and near.

Timur’s enduring spirit dwells within turquoise tiles;

The sacred tale of Qutham turns to clear spring water’s smiles.

Through thousands years of pilgrimage souls find resting ground;

Silk Road’s eternal radiance floods the vale where moonlight crowned.

(Samarkand, July 24, 2024)

Shah-i-Zinda Memorial Complex

 NOTE:

The Shah-i-Zinda Memorial Complex ranks among Central Asia’s most remarkable architectural ensembles. This Samarkand monument (11th–20th centuries) consists of mausoleums, mosques, minarets and madrasas, situated in the necropolis south of the Afrosiab Hill.

 The oldest structure here is the mausoleum of Qusam ibn Abbas, cousin of the Prophet Muhammad, popularly known as “Shah-i-Zinda”, meaning “The Living King”.

 Qusam ibn Abbas (c.624–677) was one of the earliest missionaries who brought Islam to Central Asia in the 7th century.

During the reign of Caliph Ali ibn Abi Talib, he served as governor of Mecca. Together with Said ibn Usman (Governor of Khorasan under the Umayyad dynasty, d.680), he took part in the conquest of Central Asia.

 Shah-i-Zinda has always been regarded as sacred. Every ruler erected buildings here or buried their relatives on this site.

 Scholars call Shah-i-Zinda “an encyclopedia of Eastern Islamic architecture”. Its magnificent buildings embody all architectural traditions spanning the 11th to the 20th centuries.

 The complex was built atop the ruins of an older city destroyed during Genghis Khan’s invasion. It is divided into four main sections: the Lower Group, Middle Group, Northern Courtyard and the Qusam ibn Abbas Ensemble.

 Shah-i-Zinda Memorial Complex is inscribed on the UNESCO World Cultural Heritage List.

Reflections at the Ruins of Afrasiab, Ancient Sogdiana

 Cracked barren mounds lie sealed by camel thorn,

Wild pigeons skim low through thick morning mist.

Scarred gullies mark the old realm’s ruin scars,

Lonely vines brave bitter winds across flat sand.

All grand ambitions fade, leaving only regret,

The ancient city buried, turned to empty land.

I re-read the Western sage’s ode to broken statues,

All rise and fall of a thousand ages rest within sand.

 (9 a.m., July 24, 2026)

O King, may you live a life of boundless greatness

Ode to Samarkand, In Memory of Antiquity

 Camel bells of the Silk Road drift across remote wastelands,

The ancient city of Kangju lies slumbering beneath the sunset glow.

Blue domes stretch like an ocean, frozen through a thousand years,

Glazed brick hues glow like rosy clouds, radiating grace to all nations far and wide.

Ulugh Beg’s observatory once probed the boundless cosmos,

Timur’s mausoleum stands firm amid the vast wilderness.

Clouds and smoke drift past the crossroads of civilizations,

The lingering charm of the prosperous Tang shall forever endure, fragrant and bright.

 (Written July 24, 2026, Hilton Hotel Samarkand)

Ode to the 6th Silk Road International Poetry Festival

Vast is the primal cosmos, yet time flows without pause;

Endless stretches the Silk Road, its cultural legacy ever fragrant.

In days of yore, our forebears forged paths to reach distant lands;

Today, poets bear the Way, soaring beyond the azure firmament.

This ancient trail, spanning millennia, holds the breath of mountains and rivers;

The winds across ten thousand miles unfurl the verses of nations far and wide.

In this enlightened age that reveres culture, a global gathering of elegance is reborn;

Sages and scholars converge, renewing the enduring bond across the vast seas.

Once, Han envoys journeyed westward, braving frost and snow to bridge foreign realms;

Sanskrit scriptures crossed eastward, blending with Confucian and Daoist wisdom to nourish our homeland.

The echoes of camel bells still linger at the foot of the Kunlun Mountains;

The fragrance of brocade letters has long spread across the vast Western Seas.

Through centuries of change, the torch of culture remains unquenched;

The grace of the Nine Provinces shines eternally with the sun and moon.

The old path bears the weight of history’s annals;

New horizons unfold the grandeur of our times.

Now, cherished friends tread the ancient trail to reach distant frontiers,

Carrying pure verses over rugged peaks.

Departing the majestic gates of Chang’an, embracing the misty radiance of the Qinling Mountains;

Crossing the shifting sands and boundless deserts, stepping into the splendid halls of Central Asia.

With translation as our bridge, we span the divides of language;

With sincerity as our covenant, we forge bonds with kindred spirits across the four seas.

Our hearts roam the vast cosmos, breathing in the noble spirit of past and present;

Our pens traverse earth and sky, weaving coolness across the eight wildernesses.

Behold this grand gathering, unbounded by borders, unhindered by mountains or seas.

A single word, touching the soul, can convey the resonance of a thousand years;

A brief letter, sent afar, can melt the frost of myriad hardships.

Gazing upon the majestic landscapes, we contemplate the impermanence of human passage;

Guarding the clarity of our poetic hearts, we transmit the warmth and kindness of China.

Every stroke of ink reveals the embrace of mountains and rivers;

Every rising song echoes the steadfast rhythm of time.

Thus we know:

Civilizations know no barriers, merging through elegance and grace;

Heaven and earth share one heart, thriving eternally through the Way of Poetry.

The ancient path, reborn, blooms again with a thousand years of splendor;

New verses, carried forward, forever illuminate the auspicious harmony of all nations.

The galaxy serves as our preface, unfolding the romance of ages past;

The soul of poetry is our torch, perpetually sustaining the radiant glow of the Silk Road.

In Praise:

The Silk Road flows vast and boundless,

Its cultural current surges on.

Translation bridges East and West,

Poetry crosses oceans wide.

Our hearts embrace the cosmos,

Our spirit pierces the firmament.

Past and present join hands in succession,

Their fragrance endures for eternity.

(July 22, 2026)

(First draft at Xianyang International Airport; revised aboard flight MU855 to Tashkent; finalized in Room 705, Tower Hotel, Tashkent)

_______________

Read: Poetic Traces Along Shan Creek

The post Two Raindrops upon the Tianshan first appeared on Sindh Courier.