Translated by Wenyuan Shao
Qiangrenliu is a post-’80s poet—making him part of China’s first generation to grow up entirely within the reformist era—of the Qiang ethnic group of Sichuan, China. He is the author of the long poem “Birthplace” and the prose collection Bronze Mask.
On a train,
Pitch-dark is kneeling outside the window.
It is like a maiden bathing at riverside
Shyly averting her eyes from my far-off gaze.
Lights along the rail crash against our train;
We are covered with wounds.
What can they say?
Those wearier than I
Fall asleep like stones.
The stars, still in the sky,
Seem to know where I am going.
From the sky, the stars are looking at the train.
Somewhat rash and sloppy,
The train that never turns back
Is especially lonely.
From Chinese Literature Today Vol. 4 No. 1