Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Qin Xiaoyu

NORTHERN ‘JOURNEY TO THE WEST’

Hardship seemed the fifth disciple in the entourage.
The village lights of Uliastai Agui shone throughout their journey.
Tripitaka begged alms from Uzheseklen Lotus Blossom.
Lotus Blossom, who always respected lamas, gave two gold hairpins.
 
Pigsy carried the shoulder pole,
Monkey-King Hu held the hairpins between his fingertips. At the fair,
by chance, Tripitaka was peddling the hairpins
to Lotus Blossom’s husband, who was a pinhead himself:
“If you want them, give me 12 ounces of silver.”
 
Times like a hailstorm. Pain of rebirth, crossing-over.
“With habitual wife-beating, leaving is the best choice . . . ”
Lotus Blossom, sutras under her coat,
violently connected her neck to the rafters.
Children asleep.
Agony like boiling oil.
 
Her husband, beset by regrets much too late,
felt the rooms and courtyards held no meaning,
he wanted to hide on her grave
from this world suddenly made void.
Her son and daughter prayed, “Oh, mother,
wherever you are, become the wind and fly!”
 
Uzheseklen Lotus Blossom
has stepped on to the beautiful Lethe Bridge.
Smoke . . . Gone . . .
Demons . . . Death’s fan . . .
Cold in the grave’s dark night, a silver bridge, the great river.
That’s the journey the journeying monk brought to her.

NOORDELIJKE REIS NAAR HET WESTEN

Beproeving lijkt de vijfde discipel van het gezelschap.
Onderweg glinstert het stadje Ulastoe op.
De monnik Xuanzong vraagt Lotus Uzheseklen om een aalmoes.
Haar verering voor de lama indachtig geeft ze twee gouden haarspeldjes.
 
Bajie draagt de draagstok,
Sun Wukong houdt de haarspeldjes vast. Op de markt
probeert Xuanzong ze te slijten
bij Lotus’ echtgenoot, die een hart als een speldenknopje heeft:
‘Voor twintig taël zilver mag je ze hebben.’
 
Een periode als hagel. De pijn van reïncarnatie.
‘Ik ga maar beter voor ik afgeranseld word . . . ’
Lotus stopt de soetra’s bij zich,
bindt dakbalk en nek stevig samen.
Slaapkinderen.
Lijden lijkt op kokendhete olie.
 
Haar echtgenoot op zijn witte drakenpaard voor wie spijt te laat komt
vindt dat huis en haard niks meer te betekenen hebben,
hij wil in haar tombe ontsnappen
aan deze wereld die plotseling een leegte is.
Haar kinderen bidden: ‘Moeder, alstublieft,
waar u ook bent, verander in wind en vlieg!’
 
Lotus Uzheseklen
stapt op een mooie brug.
Mist . . . gaan . . .
Kwelgeest . . . waaier . . .
In de donkere nacht is het koud, zilveren brug, rivier.
Dit is de reis die de reizende monnik haar geeft.

北西游记

磨难像第五位随行的弟子。
旅途中,呼拉斯图阿贵村闪烁。
唐僧向乌哲斯古楞·莲花化缘。
一向礼敬喇嘛的莲花,布施了两只金钗。
 
八戒挑着担子,
胡悟空手捏金钗。集市上的唐僧
恰巧向莲花那心眼如钗中一点的丈夫
兜售金钗:
“你若想要,就给我十二两银子。”
 
冰雹一样的时光。轮回的疼痛。
“与其遭受毒打,还不如离别好……”
莲花揣着经书,
把房梁和脖颈剧烈地连接在一起。
睡孩子。
痛苦犹如滚烫的油脂。
 
她那骑着白龙马也追悔莫及的丈夫
觉得屋子和院子都没有意义了,
他想在她的坟里躲避
这个突然被架空的世界。
她的儿女祷告:“母亲呀,
您无论在哪里也要变做风飞驰!”
 
乌哲斯古楞·莲花
已踏上一座漂亮的桥。
烟……去……
罗刹……扇子……
冥夜里冷,银桥,江河。
这是旅行的和尚带给她的旅行。
Close

NORTHERN ‘JOURNEY TO THE WEST’

Hardship seemed the fifth disciple in the entourage.
The village lights of Uliastai Agui shone throughout their journey.
Tripitaka begged alms from Uzheseklen Lotus Blossom.
Lotus Blossom, who always respected lamas, gave two gold hairpins.
 
Pigsy carried the shoulder pole,
Monkey-King Hu held the hairpins between his fingertips. At the fair,
by chance, Tripitaka was peddling the hairpins
to Lotus Blossom’s husband, who was a pinhead himself:
“If you want them, give me 12 ounces of silver.”
 
Times like a hailstorm. Pain of rebirth, crossing-over.
“With habitual wife-beating, leaving is the best choice . . . ”
Lotus Blossom, sutras under her coat,
violently connected her neck to the rafters.
Children asleep.
Agony like boiling oil.
 
Her husband, beset by regrets much too late,
felt the rooms and courtyards held no meaning,
he wanted to hide on her grave
from this world suddenly made void.
Her son and daughter prayed, “Oh, mother,
wherever you are, become the wind and fly!”
 
Uzheseklen Lotus Blossom
has stepped on to the beautiful Lethe Bridge.
Smoke . . . Gone . . .
Demons . . . Death’s fan . . .
Cold in the grave’s dark night, a silver bridge, the great river.
That’s the journey the journeying monk brought to her.

NORTHERN ‘JOURNEY TO THE WEST’

Hardship seemed the fifth disciple in the entourage.
The village lights of Uliastai Agui shone throughout their journey.
Tripitaka begged alms from Uzheseklen Lotus Blossom.
Lotus Blossom, who always respected lamas, gave two gold hairpins.
 
Pigsy carried the shoulder pole,
Monkey-King Hu held the hairpins between his fingertips. At the fair,
by chance, Tripitaka was peddling the hairpins
to Lotus Blossom’s husband, who was a pinhead himself:
“If you want them, give me 12 ounces of silver.”
 
Times like a hailstorm. Pain of rebirth, crossing-over.
“With habitual wife-beating, leaving is the best choice . . . ”
Lotus Blossom, sutras under her coat,
violently connected her neck to the rafters.
Children asleep.
Agony like boiling oil.
 
Her husband, beset by regrets much too late,
felt the rooms and courtyards held no meaning,
he wanted to hide on her grave
from this world suddenly made void.
Her son and daughter prayed, “Oh, mother,
wherever you are, become the wind and fly!”
 
Uzheseklen Lotus Blossom
has stepped on to the beautiful Lethe Bridge.
Smoke . . . Gone . . .
Demons . . . Death’s fan . . .
Cold in the grave’s dark night, a silver bridge, the great river.
That’s the journey the journeying monk brought to her.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Ludo Pieters Gastschrijver Fonds
Lira fonds
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère