The Artist 艺术家

The Artist 艺术家

一个红卫兵打死了
我的叔公
在四十二年
以前的
昨夜。

A Red Guard shot
my great-uncle
last night,
forty-years
ago. 

这发生在
太阳刚开始向
层层叠叠又
沙沙作响的春天的树丛
诉说纹理时。 

It happened as
the sun started to
speak veins into
the spring thicket
whistling through, layer by layer. 

红卫兵开枪了
两次射向他的病榻
一次在腿上
有一次
在他的腹部

The Red Guard opened fire
twice toward his sickbed,
once in the leg,
and again
in the stomach. 

他 开了腔的腹部
涌出挑衅
在地上
一巴掌煽出的
深红， 仅仅 

His opened stomach
poured forth defiance
onto the ground
slapping out
dark crimson, only 

凝结又被掩埋
在阴暗
泥泞的土地，
红卫兵抽了只烟，
扔了牌， 离开。 

To congeal and be covered
in the shade
on some muddy ground.
The guards smoked a few,
played cards, and left.  

妹妹用膝盖
将自己
搜出橱柜
她呆立了
许久  才能去拾捡 

His sister used her knees
to pull herself
out from the cupboard
she stood transfixed
for a long time
only then able to gather

他所写的诗句
被红卫兵撕碎的
小说稿本
和他
用偷来的一撮鬓毛 

The verses he had written,
ripped up by the guard
the outlines of stories
and his
stolen tufts of paint brushes 

绘成的四美人图，
红卫兵说这是大毒草
毒害人民群众
于是那在烈焰中燃着的诗文，笔墨，
字画，烧断了这民族
的脊梁。

He used to paint the Four Beauties of China
the Red Guard said they were poisonous weeds,
corrupting the people,
among the raging flames burned his poetry, brush, ink,
paintings, consuming the nation's
backbone.

This poem was from an anthology of modern Chinese poetry sitting in a Coffee shop in Qingdao. It just so happened to be the fourth of June, anniversary of the Tiananmen Square protests. Reading the poem "The Artist", it reminded me of the healing powers of art.

I was well aware of the world's spotlight gazing on China over the anniversary date, most international news sites carried some historical summary and a report on the vigil held in Hong Kong. But the majority Chinese themselves didn't notice. The day passes like any other. It's almost as if the Tiananmen massacre has come to mean more to the outside world than it does to China, where there is only a vacuum of information about the event.

Words thrown into the vacuum this year included 'big yellow duck' (after the famous image of tankman was altered so he faced down three giant yellow ducks), 'black shirt' (as mainland Chinese marking the date surreptitiously wear black) and '6 4'(short for June 4th).

History, no matter how ugly, leaves an indelible mark upon the face of a nation. The CCP have put a plaster over the top of Tiananmen and hope that everyone will forget it was put there. I hope one day it will be possible to fill this void with poetry, film and art. Art can help people reconcile with the Tiananmen massacre on their own terms and begin the healing process as a nation. One day Tiananmen might be looked upon as a lesson never to be repeated, rather than an unsightly stain to be swept under the carpet.