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Hsieh San-chin / 謝三進
Nacionalidad:
Taiwán
E-mail:
alan910442@msn.com
Biografia

Hsieh San-chin / 謝三進

Hsieh San-chin (b. 1984)received his M.A. from The Department of Taiwan Culture, Languages, and Literature in National Taiwan Normal University. He is the current editor-in-chief of The Wind Sphere Magazine, and member of The Epoch Poetry Club. He is also a member of monthly literary critic magazine - Secret Reader (http://secret-reader.com). The collection of his poems “Fireworks” was published in 2011. He is also the editor of Golden Anthology of Poetry - Taiwan 1980’s Generation.

 e-mail:alan910442@msn.com

 

     The Wound

 

When Darkness hovers over naked Earth,

The Sea and Rainclouds jointly weave

A conspiracy of sheer black.

Shall the world go slightly further into danger,

Justice will no longer be contained in its sheath.

The tragic thing is we are still perfectly safe,

While the messenger from afar has imparted,

“Our wizards have past away…

Our heroes have weathered and declined...”

 

Is it time to start packing,

Or insert the game disk?

The abrupt rainstorm was slowly tamed;

Now only raging thunder remains.

Heaven above, don’t bother to hold the umbrella for me.

The gusts rage on; I still have my roof.

Shall I go slightly deeper into romanticism,

I will be immune from the harm of our time.

 

All of a sudden, calamities are transforming the far away mountains and rivers.

The smoke of wars, like rolls of cigarette, slowly consumes

The bliss in some corner of the world.

I switched on the doomsday radio,

And even the noises went speechless,

How do I even begin to confess my only faith – words.

They remain perfectly intact…

 

 

 

     I Did Not Call Upon You This Time

 

I did not call upon you this time,

My dear country.

When the sound of winds drowned out

The hustle and bustle of cities,

And tactful State-affairs inadvertently

Put my loyalty to tests,

How am I to love you without holding back?

 

How am I to follow your trail

On this aimless voyage?

I looked up and counted the stars, only to realize

That all of them were imaginary.

Those nightmares that we never dared to dream

Have overruled the night sky,

And blotted out the faded heavens.

 

I used to be rational and cool-headed,

And watched an entire era went cold.

I waited with proper restraint, only to receive

A stunted future that never sprouts.

Shall I continue to be told, “We are -- ”

Um, ready?

 

I can still recall

The blueprint we’ve carefully drawn together.

(Our untainted hearts made of clear glass

Used to glow because of it.)

How steadfast and eternal was the glow

Of our faith, so self-inflammable like hot ashes.

How come, at this moment of reunion,

That it has come to this…

 

(Fear was never my option.

But why has it become

The only thing I was given now…)

 

We have missed so much

That we no longer allow more wrongs to pass.

Dear country,

I did not call upon you this time

Because I recognized your abandoned fireworks

In the eyes of the crowd.

That was a dawn you no longer promise,

A fire from the gods

That only on-lookers could steal.

 

     The Lights-Out Trumpet

 

Darkness has fallen

Why again choose this very moment

To make authoritative commands

Asking us to clear our thoughts

And close our eyes

For there are too many things

That should be kept in reticence

 

In some dark nameless corner

Somebody raises a trumpet

Like some kind of scepter

And smashes the unanswering Night

With low metallic groans

Announcing the coming

Of an End

Or a Victory

Forcing us to lie down

 

As if retreat is the only strategy

The dazzling World in the end

Is only allowed to work the night shift

And carry out ceaseless patrols

 

Someone used to deliver

God’s saying,

“Let there be Light,”

And there was Light.

Who then overshadowed this God-given radiance

And let Darkness befall once more

 

(The Night-Watchers pace back and forth

In a vigilant search for eyes awaiting the Dawn)

 

Deeper into the Night

The fearful rumors have all materialized.

Though we are huddled together

We have to hush.

Yet

The wandering wind

The rustling grass

The restless trees

And the creaking insects

Are all whispering to us,

 

“Dawn is near;

Let us not fall gently into sleep.”

 

 

 

 

 

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