Silent Night

Silent Night
by Wen Yiduo
translated by Patrizia Yeung

This shaft of light, by which the walls are decolourized;
these virtuous furniture, as intimate as friends;
the smell from the pages of this ancient book, comes in a gust;
the best teacups, as white as a chaste girl;
the little child being fed, sips in the mother’s arms,
the snores bring me tidings of my elder son Kanjian,
this mysterious Silent Night, this perfectly round peace,
my throat wobbles the tunes of gratefulness.
But the tunes become curses right away,
Silent Night! I cannot, cannot take your bribe.
Who cherishes your peacefulness within the walls,
who cares you this wall within sq. meters peace
my world has wider boundaries!
These walls are incapable of blocking the clamour of war,
and how can you stop my heart from beating?
The best is to fill this mouth with sand
if others only sing for individual weal and woe;
the best is to dig holes for voles with this head,
feed larvae with this bloody flesh;
If it is for a glass of wine, a book of poems,
a sense of leisure from pendulum swings in a Silent Night
that I fail to hear groans around you,
fail to see the trembling shadows of orphans and widowers,
spasms in trenches, mad man sinking his teeth into the sickbed,
and many more tragedies in this mill of life.
Bliss! I, for now, cannot take your bribe,
my world is not within these walls.
Listen! Another cannon boom, the death is roaring.
Silent Night! How can you stop my heart from beating?


This poem, originally written in Chinese, expresses the poet's anxiety and anger for the situation of contemporary China. Wen addresses the Silent Night, begging it to stop his heart from beating as he does no want to live in peace only in his own house. Written when wars between warlords took place, 'Silent Night' showcases strong patriotic feeling of the poet. He claims that he would rather sacrifice the bliss he has or even his life than ignoring the people who were suffering from wars. He wants to stop the peacefulness of a Silent Night from disguising the reality.

Trot

這燈光，這燈光漂白了的四壁﹔
this light, this light bleach/decolourize four walls

這賢良的桌椅，朋友似的親密﹔
this virtuous table/desk chair, friend-like intimacy

這古書的紙香，一陣陣的襲來﹔
this ancient book paper smell, a gust come/assail

要好的茶杯，貞女一般的潔白﹔
the best tea cups, chaste girl like pure/white

受哺的小兒，接呷在母親懷裏，
being feed little son, sip in mother’s arms

鼾聲報道我大兒康健的消息……
snores report my elder son Kanjian’s news

這神祕的靜夜，這渾圓的和平，
this mysterious silent night, this perfectly round peace

我喉嚨裏顫動著感謝的歌聲。
my throat trembles grateful tunes/singing

但是歌聲馬上又變成了詛咒，
but tunes/singing immediately change curse

靜夜！我不能，不能受你的賄賂。
Silent night! I cannot, cannot take your bribe

誰希罕你這牆內尺方的和平！
who cares you this wall within sq. meters peace

我的世界還有更遼闊的邊境。
my world has wider boundaries

這四牆既隔不斷戰爭的喧囂，
this four walls cannot block war clamour/hulabaloo

你有甚麼方法禁止我的心跳?
you have any method stop my heart beat

最好是讓這口裏塞滿了沙泥，
the best is let this mouth filled sand

如其它只會唱著個人的休戚，
if others only sing individual weal and woe

最好是讓這頭顱給田鼠掘洞，
the best is let this head give vole dig holes

讓這一團血肉也去餵著尸蟲﹔
let this bloody flesh feed

如果只是為了一杯酒，一本詩，
If it is for a glass of wine, a book of poems

靜夜裏鐘擺搖來的一片閑適，
silent night within pendulum swing a sense of leisure

就聽不見了你們四鄰的呻吟，
and cannot hear your surrounding moan/groan

看不見寡婦孤兒抖顫的身影，
cannot see widowers orphans tremble

戰壕裏的痙攣，瘋人咬著病榻，
trench within spasms/convulsion, mad man biting the sickbed

和各種慘劇在生活的磨子下。
and all the tragedies in life’s mill.

幸福！我如今不能受你的私賄，
fortune! I for now cannot take your bribe

我的世界不在這尺方的牆內。
My world not in this sq. meter walls.

聽！又是一陣砲聲，死神在咆哮。
Listen! again a cannon sound, death roaring.

靜夜！你如何能禁止我的心跳？
silent night! you how can stop my heart beat

Anthem For Doomed Youth

Anthem For Doomed Youth
by Wilfred Owen

What passing bells for these who die as cattle?
Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.

No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells;
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs,
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
And bugles calling for them from sad shires.

What candles may be held to speed them all?
Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes
Shall shine the holy glimmers of good-byes.
The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall;

Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,
And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.

 

Written during the First World War, the poem expresses the horror of war. In the form of an Italian sonnet, though with a rhyme scheme of of an English sonnet, the poet laments the young soldiers who sacrificed for the war.

This picture here shows casualties lying on stretchers and one can see the undesirable situation of these soldiers. These brave young men were shot dead with guns, rifles. Their bodies being badly mutilated was not surprising. However, think about this: Did they sacrifice for a reason? What or who did they die for? For their countries or for peace?

Ground Zero

Ground Zero
by Hudson Owen

(October 30, 2001)


If it were a god, it would stand tall,
a thousand feet plus from head to toe,
sunk like a pile into the bedrock,
its crown of lattice and twisted steel
poking above the smoldering ruin,


Exhaling the stench of death;
but breathing in fresh flowers
and graciously accepting prayers,
flexing its powers of silence and awe,
as a young god will; and knowing


In its healing heart its purpose:
that cradled in its arms the myriad lost,
once giddy with a soaring view,
will never again, though we replay them,
experience the sensation of falling.

The poem is written after the 911 event in 2001. The poet imagines the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center as a god from the beginning of the poem. The towers, being crashed by two airliners, 'sunk like a pile into the bedrock'. The poet further personifies the towers in the second stanza that it exhales 'the stench of death', breaths in scents of 'fresh flowers' and accept prayers. These three lines depict the scenes after the crash. There was a myriad of deaths, of those on the airliners and those working in the towers. Memorial ceremonies and services were held and flowers were all around the site, from families of the deceased and those who wanted to show care.


The poet goes on to portray the towers as a young god, 'cradled' the deceased in its arms.

This picture enables me to visualise the scene more effectively and one can actually see another airliner about the crash the towers. I remember how horrifying it was when the incident happened and I could not imagine why would people sacrifice lives of themselves and others to archieve these attacks. Then I started to realize the extreme patriotism in some parts of the world, especially Islamic countries, and they regard this way of sacrificing a sacred mission.

'There will be times when nations--acting individually or in concert--will find the use of force not only necessary but morally justified' said Barack Obama, present President of the United States, also the Nobel Peace Prize winner last year. It was part of his prize acceptance speech and he believes that violence is needed in exchange of peace.


Do we really need violence for peace? What about Gandhi?