Ten volcanoes in sleep. Nice
that you are by my side
From all corners, pitter-patter
goes the rain, in solitude and in crowds
Doors are locking themselves out
We search, in doors’ fickleness, and
in whisper of bed and foreign land
I come, from the isolated shore
with no volcanoes, like black poppies
lying on the coast But beacon’s light never dies
Nice that you wait for me at night
On the window, heavy rainfalls Lighter are my footsteps They left no trails Apollo’s window, Dionysus’ bed
Hydrangea shakes wavy hair
with hue that children shall possess
The old deserted inns, the strange dreams
The wars, quakes, and broken coffee beans
They are the outdated, the past, so nice poses of eyes, the lightning eyes
and volcanoes’ belly tyre
Roofs sloping, in response to rain that plays all night
— Translated from In Between(之間) by Chen Yuhong (陳育虹)
I worked on the translation last year when I was working with a creative writing poetry translation workshop in NTU; the workshop was led by editors George O’Connell and Diana Shi. We worked on the translation of Taiwan poets and would make an anthology afterward.
This piece was not further discussed and rendered by the workshop at the time, so I refined and published it here under my own name.
For works that are collectively discussed, rendered and published, you’re welcome to have a look at the journal . More works will be published soon, so stay tuned!