The sun at noon

It dizzies

It dissolves all inhibition

A city such as this, where sunlight scalds

Would be but a swamp

Without nightmares and romance 



The sun at noon

I walk ashore

And find my shorts pilfered by crocodiles

How could they have known

That those were my only possession



Noon

So silent

It makes you muffle your ears

Flowers and troops in afternoon slumber

Tightly nestled

Against childhood delusion



A wall of regret

A pile of junk mail

Yellowing clock face

And aborted children



The sun at noon

A sun less severe than the flood

Still, we drown

At the drawbridge

Wreathed in rings, vows still unsaid 

For others to grieve



Noon

I no longer believe there is a sun

This is entirely a bout of my own paranoia

I plummet at noon into midnight

Through the endless tunnel

Where the pale moon glows

A pack of wild horses skulks

Searching for grass



Had I one more ounce of strength

I would stand tall

And help them



Who knew instead

As I open my eyes

That I would return again to that desolate afternoon

That decrepit old horse

Suspended above my eyes

Infects my vision with hoofs

Making me into

A careful, timorous nut



Following a staircase to the ground

Greeting everyone that isn’t a basket case

Fortuitously

As their midday feast comes to a close

In their mind

I am a picture missing a label

Best to leave it be

At the other end of the hallway



The sun at noon

Is now the love of my dreams

More enchanting, more resplendent

Than even Marilyn Monroe

I have swallowed the medicine

But still cannot wilt

This sprouting desire



What use could it possibly have

This handful of little white pills??



Oh, noon

The sun pours into the soles of my feet

Like fava beans, hard as stone

And underneath that shell

A small, strange imp



I gnaw until my teeth are ground to the bone

Yet in the end it is I who is consumed

Oh, noon

I walk in the streets next to a car

I go

Wherever it goes



I encounter an old friend

He throws a wink my way

Just last night, we talked on the phone

He had sold a bootlegged CD

And asked if I would like

Some cold water at noon



The end to this gun fight

Has been declared

Because the horses are on strike

I soak in some cold water at noon

And dream that a crocodile has stolen

My only pair of shorts


****

Before tonight

I had been a virgin

But war erupts

And women scurry across mountains and moors

Like a thorned rose

It makes me sick



Before tonight

I had penned my will

And bled every bargain dry

Placing a portrait of my ancestors atop the control panel

A loose cannon, ready to launch

Any day now



Before tonight

My hands could still brush against the couch

My nose could still smell the steaming bath

Its lascivious scent



I want to contrive tall tales

And learn how to flirt  

And run faster than ducks on a telephone line



I suddenly remember that my mother favors

A white lily

But nowadays

The flower shop no longer opens

I sign in their guest book

In jet-black ink

“I was here—”



Come and find a soldier’s lonesome soul

On the moon

If I run out of time

To profess my devotion

To the one that I spend my life adoring

Please take her

To witness the gloom of moonlight

And the arrogance of gods



Placing an inflatable bottle

Beneath my seat

If the aircraft explodes

Let me lay to rest right here

The lush flora of the Fiji islands, fecund and in bloom



I want to come close to death

And live close to water 

How very humiliating

To spend a lifetime in the place of one’s birth   



I leave behind my distant home

For the war

The otters and blades of grass

Never grabbed hold of my feet

And so I begin to fade

In rays of light



I once saved all my money

At the bank nearest to her

So she could see me waiting in line

Each time she walked out the door

I dial back my father’s watch

To laze in bed

And escape the toil of heading to the zoo

On a Saturday morning



All the foolish choices I have made in this life

More infinite than a swarm of grasshoppers

And Aladdin’s magic lamp

But no one ever begrudges me

They might even entrust me to

A pocket full of rusting, corroding filth



A gun

Can kill

A pair of keys

Can open a door

A knife

Can crack open a watermelon

A slap coming right for your face

Can

Awaken a mind that wanes, deprived of drink


****

I see the darkness of the world

Not because I worship an ideology of darkness

I am a baby sparrow on the patio

The only dissidence I care about is the one between my feathers

I was born for a war that drags on endlessly

From the very beginning

I had struggled for eighteen hours at my mother’s door

Rousing the doomed soul trapped beneath the earth 

She told me

You are a “disgrace”



I have become a cheat that enjoys the smell of coffee

And the fussiness of English

So I’m off to join the war

Because war slakes

My intemperate hatred of noon

When the sky burns with smoke

And the sun never parleys with the shrew

When mobs of rapists and burglars ascend

Draped in scraps, bearing a Red Cross

Checking out, carelessly, the victors and their spoils



Whether foe or friend

All sense has been lost

Thinking only of the warm bed at home

And the ecstasy of a wife

Thinking of toasted pastries and a drooling kitten

Thinking of ending it all, unceremoniously

Of bringing the days of barricades and blood sport to a stop

And converting every enemy to a professional chum



One day

I accidentally

See on the news

The one whose neck I had mangled

Alive and well

Shoveling snow

On the corner of Washington Avenue in a storm

“He gave us a look …”

And all of China cowered



After the war

I want to buy ten kilos of film with my pension

Shoot a porno

And make wads of cold cash

I scout for actors on the main street

Their minds are elsewhere, their bodies coarse

Finally

The hem of Marilyn Monroe’s dress

Flits into view

“That’s her, the female lead.”



I can only afford film in monochrome

Expired and stained

Arranging those tits and thighs

Into trinkets strewn across the room

(I won’t write any more of this, you can die waiting!!!)



After the war

I want to knock back three pounds of the strongest wine

Paired with freshly smoked briskets

And tiny fish, still warm under layers of snow

To curl up in my own bed

Roasted crows and deep-fried cakes

Steamed buns and root vegetables sautéed in vinegar



After the war

Amid grand celebrations

To commemorate this war, the masses

Revoked the centipedes’ right to hang from branches

And braided them into garlands

Slipping them on gun barrels

And the young women’s arms, joyously aloft

How pale they are!!

Dusted with soft tufts of hair



After the war

We finally realize

We aren’t actually consumed by lechery

Only fatigue about the discourse on virtue

Spurring unbidden desires, whorish and wild



12/31/1999

02/2025

正午的太阳（节选）
巫昂  


正午的太阳
让人昏眩
让人控制不住自己
这样一个阳光酷热的城市
如果没有爱情和噩梦
会成为一片沼泽

正午的太阳
我从水中上岸
发现自己的短裤被鄂鱼叼走
它何尝知道
这是我唯一的财产

正午
安静得
让人忍不住捂住耳朵
花朵和部队都在午睡
紧紧依靠在
我们儿时的癔想上

一堵悲痛的墙
一堆垃圾信件
黄色钟表
和流产的孩子

正午的太阳
阳光没有洪水厉害
我们依旧被淹死在
马勒的桥上
套着未婚的指环
供人哀悼

正午
我不相信还有太阳
这完全是我的疑心发作
我直接从正午跌落到午夜
透过长长的隧道
明月当空
一群偷袭的野马
在那里找草

如果还有一分气力
我就要直起身来
帮助它们

谁知道
一睁开眼睛
我又回到了荒凉的午后
那匹老不死的马
悬挂在我眼睛上空
让我眼中长满蹄子
成为一个
小心翼翼的疯子

沿着楼梯走到地下
向每一个没毛病的人问好
正好是他们
午宴欢散的时刻
在他们看来
我像一幅丢了标签的画儿
最适合
扔在走廊尽头

正午的太阳
从此成为我梦中的情人
比妈黎莲·蒙麓
还要眩目耀眼
我服了药
还是冻不死
正在发芽的欲望

那一撮白色的片剂
能管什么用？？

正午呀
阳光倾倒在我脚心里
象硬邦邦的蚕豆
那壳里
有奇怪的小崽子

我费尽牙齿去嚼
却最终被它吞没
正午呀
我和一辆车一起上街
它走到哪里
我跟到哪里

我遇到一位老友
他向我眨了眨眼睛
昨晚，我们刚通过电话
他也才刚贩过盗版光盘
还问我要不要
正午的凉水

这场枪战
因为野马的罢工
而宣告结束
我泡在正午的凉水里
梦见鄂鱼偷走了
我唯一的短裤

***

在今晚之前
我还是一个处男
可是战争爆发
女人漫山遍野奔跑
像荆棘花一样
叫人倒胃口

今晚之前
我写好遗书
占尽便宜
把祖宗的遗像
放在控制面板上
好随时当作炮弹
发射出去

今晚之前
我的手还可以抚摸到沙发
鼻子还能闻到洗澡水
骚人的香气

我要编造谎言
练习情话
跑得比电话线上的鸭子还快

我突然想起母亲最喜欢
白色的百合
可如今
花店已不再开张
我在帐本上签了个
黑黑的
“到——”

到月亮上
来寻找军人的孤魂吧
如果我再也来不及
向心仪已久的人儿
示爱
就请她
目睹月光的暗淡
和神灵的骄横

把充气的瓶子
放在座位底下
万一飞机爆炸
就让我直接埋葬在
红花绿叶的斐济岛上

我要临近死亡
也要临近水库
一辈子呆在家乡
多没出息

我为了战争
离开了遥远的故乡
河狸和青草
从来没有缠住我的双足
我就在光线中
渐渐消失

我曾经把所有的钱
都存在离她最近的银行里
她一出门
就可以看见我在那里排队
我把父亲的表拨慢
为了呆在床上
在周六上午
免去上动物园的劳顿

这一生做过的蠢事
远远多于蝗虫
和啊辣叮的神灯
可是无人记恨我
也许还将发给我
一口袋破铜烂铁的东西

一把枪
可以杀人
一把钥匙
可以开门
一把刀
可以开西瓜
一个照面而来的耳光
可以
清醒缺乏酒精刺激的神经

***

我看到这个世界的黑暗
不是因为我崇尚黑暗哲学
我是院子里的小麻雀
只关心羽毛的杂乱与否
我天生是为了一场漫长无比的战争
而出来的
在母亲家门口挣扎了十八个小时
把地底的幽魂也惊动了
她告诉我
你是一个”逆种”

我变为一个喜欢咖啡的香气
和英语的矫情的小人
只好去参战
因为战争满足了
我对正午极端的厌恶
那时侯硝烟漫天
没有太阳和母夜叉的交易
那时侯轮奸与抢劫的人群上空
挂了红十字布条
好早点人货两清

无论是敌人还是我军
都丧失理智
惟独想着家里的温床
和老婆的狂喜
想着麻花馅饼和流口水的猫
想草草了事
结束围场和打猎的时光
把每个敌人转化为生意上的伙伴

有一天
我不小心
在新闻上发现
那个被自己打歪脖子的人
依旧健在
在下雪的华盛顿街道拐角
铲除积雪
“他看了咱一眼
……”
整个中国为之战栗

战争结束后
我想用抚恤金买十公斤胶片
拍一部四级片
狠挣一笔
我到大街上物色演员
他们心不在焉，身材拙劣
终于
妈黎莲·蒙麓用裙摆
扫了一下我的视线
“就她了，女主角”

我只买得起黑白胶片
过期的，焦黄的
让那些乳房和大腿
成为房间里的小摆设
（偏不往下写，急死你！！！）

战争结束后
我想一口气喝三斤老白干
外加新焙的牛肉条
被雪捂热的小鱼崽
躺在我的被卧里
烤乌鸦和炸豆饼
绣球馒头和醋溜黄花菜

战争结束后
正逢一次盛大的晚会
大家为了纪念这场战争
取消了蜈蚣挂在树上的权利
把它们编成花冠
套到枪口
和姑娘高举的手臂上
多白呀！！
上面还有一些小绒毛

战争过后
我们才发现
自己其实并不好色
只是懒争辩是非
所以偶然好色轻狂
12/31/1999

translated from the Chinese by Cecily Chen

(1974~) is a poet, writer, and former dating advice columnist based in Beijing, China. She is loosely associated with the “Lower Body Poets,” a group of experimental poets who explored the relationship between language and carnal desire.

is a writer and translator from Beijing, China. You can find her translations in The Poetry Project Newsletter, SARKA, the tiny, mercury firs, and DISCOUNT GUILLOTINE. She is also the poetry editor of Chicago Review.