I find people already buried alive,
in Zhaotong, Yunnan. I find cul-de-sac and some untrodden paths.
Mirroring the fares of ghosts and shamans.
I find Muslims with fear in their eyes.
I find the darkness of black coal
and deep black coal excavations in the ever-growing shadow of the moon.
I find the center of hell occupied by the interceptors of petitioners.
(I didn’t say I had blocked our Beijing river.)
I find backstabbers. The village of petitioners. Secret security guards.
I find Lin Xiao. Chen Jiaping. Lixiao Lan.
I find lawyers. Dwarves. Or people with amputated limbs.
I come across the trial to Mr. K.
All my life I have wanted
to learn someone’s blood count.
Perhaps to find bin Laden
being pecked by a costumed tuna fish.
I find wizards. Barbarians.
Anti-enlightenment and anti-superstition experts.
I find good times, or their living fossils.
I find times perfect “to buy awards” of national character.
Every day I find Run Tu in Shaoxing,
and Run Tu in the village of Chang’an .
I find my parents at the entrance of the village.
(Their palms extended as those of people buried alive.)
I find Zhou Zuo Ren and Hu Lan Cheng.
I find hypocrites of mediocrity.
I find ... weed ...
but never Lu Xun and Wang Jinfa.
Hui Di (pen name Xin Hui Fan) is a poet, essayist, editor and translator living in Beijing.
Miroslav Kirin is a published poet from Croatia who has written more than ten volumes of poetry, two books of short fiction, a novel and a children’s picture book. He has read and studied contemporary Chinese poetry for almost two decades. He was invited to Beijing’s Home of International Poets within the Shangyuan Art Scene in summer 2014, where he worked with Hui Di and translated several of his poems into both Croatian and English.