He who has never ridden a wild steed
Has never ridden
Any horse at all…
Gu Bei
Gu Bei, was born in Minhou County, Fujian Province in 1965. He is a core founder of the Fanke Poetry Society. He has published six poetry collections including Pure Silver, Disciple of Ecstasy and Notes on Reading Lions. His poems, prose and literary critiques have appeared in domestic and overseas newspapers and periodicals such as People’s Literature, Poetry Journal, Chinese Writers, Poetry Monthly, Poetry Tide and Southern Weekly. His poetic works have been anthologized in numerous selected volumes, namely Chinese Poetry Since 1991, Selected Chinese Poems of the New Century, Anthology of Twenty Years of Chinese Online Poetry, One Hundred Poets of Min School Poetry in a Century, Cross-Strait Poetry Collection of the 21st Century (Wuxu Volume) and Anthology of Modern Poetry of the 21st Century. He has won honors including the Annual Outstanding Poet Award from Selected Poems Journal and Fujian Provincial Excellent Literary Works Award. He has served as an initial judge for the Haizi Poetry Award for three consecutive sessions.
顾北，男，1965年生于福建省闽侯县。反克诗社主要发起人。著有诗集《纯银》《狂喜之徒》《读狮记》等6种。在《人民文学》《诗刊》《中国作家》《诗歌月刊》《诗潮》《南方周末》等国内外报刊发表过诗歌、散文、评论等。诗作收入《1991年以来的中国诗歌》《新世纪中国诗选》《中国网络诗歌20年大系》《闽派诗歌百年百人作品选》《21世纪两岸诗歌鉴藏（戊戌卷）》《21世纪现代诗歌鉴藏》等。获得“诗选刊”年度优秀诗人奖，福建省优秀文学作品奖等，连续三届担任“海子诗歌奖”初评委员。
Translated by Ma Yongbo
The Wild Steed
He who has never ridden a wild steed
Has never ridden
Any horse at all
Between horse and wild steed
I once thought there was but one difference
Horses come in every shade
Yet the wild steed bears only one hue
Crimson red —
Its temper
Its speed
Its longing
Its very being
And even its love
Only red can bear witness to all of it
When it stands still and calm
The gaze it fixes on you is as if it stares
Into a sea of blazing fire.
烈马
一生没有骑过烈马的人
当然也没有骑过
马
马与烈马
我一直以为就一点不同
马有各种各样颜色
而烈马颜色只有一种
——红
它的脾性
它的速度
它的梦想
它的存在
甚至，它的爱情
唯有红色可以证明
它安静站着
看你的眼神，仿佛看着
一片沸腾的火海
***
The Guilty Flesh
I secretly convict my own flesh of guilt
Consumed by shame. Often I dream
I slip down cliff faces, making no effort to survive
Or dream of a great plague yet refuse to accept reality
These are trivial things, the worst affliction is colour blindness
The world is sick, and faith has caught vitiligo
When rain falls, the crowd’s surging longings
Are hollow and false, like scarecrows standing in the fields
They exist only to pretend the future will be pure. I am guilty
Grass blades crawling across the earth cling tighter and tighter to the soil
They too refuse to depart — these artificial gadflies
Just like our forefathers! Ah —
My flesh is guilty. Though I dwell within it, I cannot
Halt the endless flood of hallucinations. O heaven, O divinities,
This mortal world spares no soul
I am the digger of my own grave, and yours as well
身体有罪
因为羞耻，暗暗判决自己的
身体有罪。常梦见自己
从崖壁滑落而不愿求生
梦见大疫却不愿认同现实
这些都没什么，最严重的是色盲
这世界病了而信仰染上白癜风
雨落下时世人升腾的夙愿
多么虚伪，像田野上的稻草人
仅限于保证未来是纯洁的。我有罪
匍匐大地的草茎对土地越抓越紧
他们也不愿离开——这仿生的
先辈一样的牛虻！唉——
我的身体有罪。我跟它在一起却不能
阻止幻觉一再出现。苍天呐，神明呐
这人世就没饶过谁
我是自己的掘墓人，也是你的。
***
Father
Father in the old kitchen
Is like air
Like the years, months and days
That lie plain within this kitchen
I push the creaky kitchen door with effort
As if pushing Father’s hunched back—sour, slow yet steady strong
Often I reach to pull the light cord
But Father waves his hand firmly: No need
This stove room is known to me
As intimately as every stretch of land
Upon your mother’s body
Father in the old kitchen
Has melted into everything here
And I am the extra part
That does not belong to this kitchen
父亲
老灶间里的父亲
像空气一样
父亲就像老灶间的
年月日，明摆在那儿
我艰难推动老灶间的门
像推动父亲的背，酸酸的，缓慢而有力
经常时候，我拉开老灶间的灯泡线
父亲却坚定地摇手：不用
这一间灶堂，我熟悉得就像你母亲
身上的每一寸山河
老灶间里的父亲
已是所有物事的一部分
而我，就是老灶间
多出的那部分
__________________
Read: Father and Mother – Chinese Poetry
