Huang Xiang / 黄翔
Huang Xiang（b. 1941） began publishing his work in 1958. From 1959 to 1995, he was imprisoned six times in total 12 years for his pursuit of freedom of spirit and expression and human rights advocacy. Huang Xiang is a pioneer of the Human Rights movement in China and was the first to post poems on the Democracy wall in Beijing in 1978. His writing of “An Open Letter to President Carter” brought worldwide attention to the Human Rights movement in China.
Huang Xiang is considered, in contemporary Chinese literature, one of the earliest and most productive liberal poets and writers in terms of "underground literature". His writings cover various forms and styles such as poetry, poetry and literature reviews, poetic philosophy, autobiographical novel, essay and prose, political commentary and autobiography. So far about three million characters of his works have been spared during numerous ransacks and seizures in continuous political movements, and survived until this day. Among them were his poetry and literary collection Huang Xiang-a beast Drinking Wildly but Not Drunk, his commentary collection Naked Wounds, a poetic philosophical piece Meditating Thunderstorms, an autobiographical novel Freedom of Blood-A Soul Under the Sky and His Own Sky (abridged version titled The Sky About the Bayonet—his story of Escaping and Self-immolation will be published in 2007), a prose Dream Nest Jotting, a narrative autobiography Clamor and Silence, and a cultural commentary totaling ten volumes. His work is published in Reviews on Contemporary Poetry Trends –Menglong (Beijing Normal University Press, 2001) and 100 Years of Chinese Literature Classics (Beijing University Press, 2001).
故 里
那少女
在雲衫樹的
黑景裏
皺縮成一個
老婦
她回望
結滿歲月的石榴
裂開
一條空巷的青紗
盤裏
屋背漸滅的日暈
幽深如
壽斑
身後
風積澱
狗吠
睛光裏
若有若無的山籟
佇立
神秘
一樹憂鬱開花
在
凝視之外
Old Hometown
In the cloudy cypress
Shadow
That young girl
Shrivels into an
Old woman
She looks back
The pomegranates of time
Crack open
On the blue-gauze plate of
An empty alley
The sun on the roof ridge is
As dark as
An age spot
Behind her
The wind churns
Dogs bark
Mountain peaks hardly recognizable
In daylight
Stand
Mysteriously
A melancholy tree blooms
Beyond
A steady gaze
Translated by Michelle Yeh
庭 院
一截栽入夢中的從未
有雀鳥落過的
木樁
凋啾如手指
白雪的圍巾鋪開毛絨絨
的溫暖繞住漏雨的神秘
的
天井
太陽的灶火燒紅屋脊
樹影腐爛。記憶的鴿羽
紛紛揚揚落入歲月酒罐
的
深坑
黑暗的掌紋上落葉窸窣
一盞燈吹熄
孤獨
Courtyard
A stump planted
in dreams has never seen
a sparrow’s perch
It chirps now
like a solitary finger
Snow wraps its wooly shawl
around the courtyard
warmed and humid with mystery
The roof ridge turns red
in the fiery stove of the fading sun
the tree shadows lengthen into darkness
Memory’s dove-feathers
flutter, then settle into time
hollow and deep
as a wine jug
Fallen leaves rustle
on dim palm-lines
A lamp goes out
solitude
Translated by Michelle Yeh
EMPTY BOAT ON A RIVERBANK
Early winter river water clear and pure
Clouds in the water deep and vapid
In trees on the river-bank an empty boat
Held firm by an iron chain.
It seems stopped still upon waters of summer
Having never cast off with that pair of lovers;
As though abundant May has not floated along，
Bearing rustling of leaves，and evergreen songs
Above the ship's bow a white crane comes flying，
Now detained in the mist of a hot summer morn;
A full moon o'er the woods books space on the boat，
But is rashly forced out by a violent storm.
Early winter river water clear and pure，
An empty boat ceaselessly rocks in the wind;
As though thinking to cast off its present moor，
To seek good fortune，and to seek calm waters.
Meditation
Tea has a hundred-odd flavors -----
The flavor of a vacant afternoon clear and blank
The flavor of conversation on a fall night
The flavor of snow
The flavor of moonlight
The flavor of a woman simply dressed
The flavor of random flowers and grass
The flavor of peaceful rest on a cool bamboo cot
The flavor of a game of chess
The flavor of mingled tobacco and wine
The flavor of library curtains blown by a spring wind
bringing moist air
The flavor of fragrant wood in a charcoal fire
during a swirling snowstorm
The flavor of thoughts of fall
The flavor of listening to music alone
The flavor of peace and solitude
The flavor of sprawling exhausted
The flavor of mist
The flavor of drizzle and sunlight
The flavor of a mountain sparrow’s song
The flavor of eel grass and fish odor
The flavor of leaves’ season-long
golden light
The flavor of a nameless trembling that
sweeps the body from head to foot
The flavor of awaiting and attending a meeting
The flavor of a contented purring cat
The flavor of dew mysteriously suffused
with the spirit of yin and yang
The flavor of pine-blown mist boiling up in a pot
The flavor of a pure silent hand
The hundred-odd flavors of tea imbibed
While passing from the middle to the later years
In the life book of a man
WILD BEASTS
I am a wild beast hunted down
I am a captured wild beast
I am a wild beast trampled by wild beasts
I am a wild beast trampling wild beasts
This age viciously seizes me
With squinting eyes
Its feet stomp on the bridge of my nose
Tearing
Biting
Gnawing
Gnawing until barely a bone of me is left
Even though barely a bone is left
I want this detestable age to choke on me
English 
Spanish
