Poems by Cela Xiè

卧 In this light it is not white,

趣 nor is it any other color;

念 it is the clearing that passes the moon
站 for the solitary second when

再 he sees me before he is lost
删 again, absorbed by his screen

伤 of clouds — he does not need me —

坎 he does not want me, he does not want
逆 America, the avenging and

先 ravaging heir, my fatherland,

宰 nothing but land, for this heavenly

霓 body — the circus surrounds him,
龛 cirrus, scars, winds, accumulated

遮 fanfare, so why should he care

渥 for empire? He has the luxury
侃 of the indifference of a child.

我 My subject is not white now, but last
锝 Thursday, Thor’s day,

阎 the fourth day,
演 the day I came on the stage

静 with my English name and far to go —

祟 it was white, only for where
染 there was no stain, there was

盐 a rift of golden snow,

皮 my father’s color, after he wore
度 and perhaps slept in this gift

金 he said he did not want to give me;

胆 in the airport yellow at twenty-one
十 hundred, frantic in line:

日 “You stole my shirt? You stole my shirt!”

光 I said — the shirt as blue
沸 as the flag past the fifty stars,

裸 and across the chest in football letters,

刀 DADDY — “That’s filthy,” he said,

颜 “I have nothing to wear,” I said,

滴 so he gave me the skin off his back,
阴 and I went through security

未 with it unbuttoned unseasonably low,
握 I had no time — in the classroom

幼 last Thursday, I said,

弹 “I lost my DADDY shirt and gained
演 Daddy’s shirt” — there were a few laughs —

披 my father’s white shirt that was no longer white,

卧 or perhaps it was never white?

德 He will never be loved

体 by the white men he loves,
虚 he is a hollow instrument,

代 he wants the west wind through him,
晓 driving out the yellow leaves —

化 he searches for structure —

淡 in the classroom, I said,

龌 “I bleached it, but still
病 I can’t help but feel

煤 it isn’t white enough” —

友 and my four white fellow poets
孝 assured me it was.

rest / interest / read / stand / again / erase / wound / pit / rebel / first / slaughter / rainbow
/ shrine / conceal / rich / gossip / I / technetium / underworld / silence / ghost / stain / salt
/ skin / spend / gold / gall / ten / sun / bare / boil / nude / knife / face / drip / yin / yet /
hold / callow / bullet / act / cloak / lie / virtue / body / hollow / replace / realize / transform
/ fade / filth / illness / coal / friend / piety

I stood on the mountain last year looking at you, and you are looking at me now. Look at
my eyes. Their lids are gilded, but the light has not reached their depths, ‘cause I have
monolids. There’s a joke written on my shirt, but I’m not laughing.

Note: I began by writing a passage about the photo, then replaced each character with
a character that was spelled the same but matched the English line beside it. For
example, 山 shān “mountain” became 删 shān “erase” beside “again, absorbed by his
screen.” The first translation is of the words in the text of the poem, while the second is
the passage I began with.

王者不暴虐，则白虎见而不害。《宋书·符瑞志》

“If the king is not a tyrant, a white tiger will appear but cause no harm.” — Fu Ruizhi,
from The Book of Song

何 My photo, now yours, of the pale
必 color cast from high windows on

俗 given petals on the worn pew
世 of a place I cannot love — can you

仅 hear the fall of its light? You are
记 reading, though not of this, and what

亡 is the verse you turn and return to
神 in the translucent violet evening?

存 You know the verse, though I cannot
命 know you, and you are alive

如 because time holds you like the page
章 beneath your hand, that I cannot turn.

Why should the world only remember your death?
God saves your life like a chapter.

“Celestine Chaney, 65; Roberta A. Drury, 32; Andre Mackniel, 53; Katherine Massey,
72; Margus D. Morrison, 52; Heyward Patterson, 67; Geraldine Talley, 62; Ruth
Whitfield, 86; . . . Pearl Young, 77.”

— Alisha Ebrahimji, Dakin Andone and Amir Vera “Buffalo shooting victims: ‘Hero’
guard and a teacher who was a ‘pillar of the community’ are among 10 killed.” CNN

Translation:

妹名

何必俗世仅记亡？
神存命如章