Seven Poems by Zhao Xuru:

"Let them fart. If it stinks, they will know their ideas are shit" - Someone or Other

I wholeheartedly agree with what's-his-name. We've been smelling you shitty American poets for too long. How long? Too long. Fuck it; we are on to new shit. Joyless House is now a conduit for the best poetry and political ideas the far east has on offer. Cathay, Bernie or Bust! Call it the Hundred Chinese Poets Campaign. Dig in or try dying. 7 poems from Zhao Xuru:

The Dying

I may be dying in this mood: Vast Apathetic Sharp pain in the heart Boundless memories about youth and love Vacillating Broken Incomplete life Angst and nonchalance About time Darkness Anger Despair In the future not too far, I might bid farewell

To the passed time In this mood If it is so Please casually bury me On a beach With pebbles

The Afternoon

I was grumpy in the afternoon Broke a pile of white Porcelain bowls Later on the weather turned bright While still cloudy Tigers scattered A sound of vendor hawking bamboo-ware vanished A man in a round-neck shirt drying turnips appears on the roof

Self Portrait

Midnight I hear you drinking soup alone next door Speaking of politics You know nothing about it

Youthful Dogs

Those dogs We usually See: Running on the streets With shiny fur - They are all Youthful dogs In the very best time Of their Lives


We live in such a desolate place Without knowing.

Thought We were living at The center of the city.

We live in the center of life without knowing. Thought we were living in Some Desolate place Far from the mundane world.

Dawn Or Dusk

A doctor A poet And a part-time pet shop owner They live next to each other And often at different moments Of the day, they overlook the same River in the distance A same cloud At dawn, or dusk

An Hour Away From This World

Now I intend to sleep for an hour I intend to leave this world for an hour I intend to leave the socialist system For an hour I intend to leave the China history and the world history for an hour I intend to leave All the men and women in this world For an hour - You all, please be good - I, now, intend to sleep for an hour

Author: Zhao Xuru, was born in Hunan, China; an established Chinese poet, essayist and book curator; writing since 1988, has published three books (China): poetry collections Days Living On The Mountain Was Shameful and Silver Goblet Kicked Over Last Night, and poem-and-essay collection A Record: Unreliable Time In Lhasa.

Translator: Li He, currently works an editor for the monthly bulletin of

China Education Association for International Exchange.

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