In the bar, we were separated by a table You said: ‘I, as a sincere poet...’ I lowered my head, noticing a strawberry that was half ripe In the bar, we were separated by a table You said:‘When I face the great and rich Chinese language...’ I extended three fingers, to quietly pick up this strawberry In the bar, we were separated by a table Your cropped hair was rather neat but your fat chin was mirror-shining, oily I chewed the strawberry, tasting its strange ulcer In the bar, we were separated by a table I suddenly recalled having read one of your poems, ‘In July, the icy fire Was ablaze with the sea as I witnessed a lightning that refused to be revised...’ In the bar, we were separated by a table Quietly, I spat out a squash of the chewed stuff on the table As I thought: it’s an absolute mistake putting the strawberry in my mouth -- translated from Chinese by Ouyang Yu
(originally published by Vagabond Press : Poems of Yi Sha, Shu Cai & Yang Xie) -- photo by Nguyễn Man Nhiên