Cao Shui
Brief Biography of Cao Shui
Cao Shui, also Shawn Cao (born in Jun 5, 1982), is a Chinese poet, novelist, screenwriter and translator. He is a representative figure of Chinese Contemporary Literature. He leads the Great Poetry Movement. His most notable works includes Epic of Eurasia, the already mentioned trilogy and Princess Snow Leopard. So far 50 books of Cao Shui have been published, including 10 poem collections, 5 essay collections, 10 novels, 7 translations, 18 fairy tales and 100 episodes TV series and films. He has won more than 80 literary awards worldwide. His works have been translated into 30 languages. He is also chief editor of Great Poetry, executive editor in chief of World Poetry, Asian coordinator of World Poetry Movement, coordinator of BRICS Writers Association, executive president of the Silk Road International Poetry Festival, Chairman of Beijing International Poetry Film Festival. Currently he lives in Beijing, and works as a professional writer and screenwriter.
Great Dance of Sorrow
You stand center stageThey all push you towards sorrow
Backstage, some play the accompaniment
Behind you, some dance to the funeral music
Standing center stage crying, there's only you
You are on the Pamir plateue wailing
People come from all directions
Asians play funeral marches for you
And Europeans dance along
Wishing for death, you stand there
Yet no one will let you be
They sing for you, dance for you
To aid your sorrow process
Until you give up all hope
Until you depart this world
They'll grieve briefly and leave
To find the next eulogee
Mermaid
I walk along carrying an injured fishThis pot only fits one fish
How was it that the fish was injured?
I too want to know the answer
Only an examination will reveal the truth
I traveled past mountain ranges, bodies of water
I travel through centuries, millenia
Great rivers cut through deep valleys
One night I fell into flooding waters
The fish jumped out from the jar
I could only stare as she left
People say I'm affable
The fish now becomes a mermaid
With servant girls by her side
A waning moon sits upon my head
The mermaid ascends the moon
A drop of fragrant dew drops down
I extended my hands to catch it
And suddenly understood life that's passed, life that comes
Grave Liquor
We buried a jug of liquor in a graveBuried last year under the moon
Dug up this year under the sun
Looking at the girl's name incribed on the tomb
Rising or setting, we aren't sure of the sun
Unaware when burried
Realized when retrieved
We think day and night of empty liquor jugs
yellow and white patterns
reflect the snow mountain.
Sharp claws sparkling with stars,
roars in the wind pass through like a gale.
I think back to years ago,
when I found myself before its blue eyes:
like lights they illuminated space and time.
You, king of beasts, look at your kingdom:
wild yaks are loyal and brave generals,
the Tibetan antelope is a foresighted minister,
the Tibetan wild donkey is a holy Hermit,
white-lipped deer are monks
who see through the red dust.
Wolves can organize armies,
owls are night killers,
black-necked crane is a faithful lover.
Brown bear is a master of camouflage,
falcons control the sky,
snow-fowls are God's poultry.
I crossed the First Canyon of the Yangtze River,
our four eyes looked at each other.
Years later, I always remember the thrill of that meeting.
Why can't I control my tears?
Because I am a prisoner of time and space
and you will be the king of freedom forever.
like rivers flowing back to the Highland,
like souls ascending the stars.
From China, India, Persia,
Greece, Egypt, Judea,
Jerusalem and Varanasi.
We arrived calmly too.
From Dunhuang to Babylon and Samarkand.
We arrived at the round top of the dome.
Tall stone pillars were erected up to the sky.
They entered through six doors,
we descended from the dome.
The Chinese spoke of the Yellow Emperor in Chinese;
the Greeks spoke of Zeus in Greek;
the Indians spoke of Indra in Hindi;
the Jews spoke of Jehovah in Jewish;
the Egyptians spoke of Ra, the God of Sun, in Egyptian;
the Persians spoke of Marduk in Persian.
They argued endlessly.
We couldn’t understand their language,
but we knew what they were talking about.
We read a lyric of the Tower of Babel:
words against people from all over the world.
They were all shocked
under the sun and the moon.
The Sumerians embraced the Akkadians;
Huangdi’s tribe danced with Yandi’s tribe;
the Cretans played with the Mycenaeans;
the Dravidians sang with the Aryans;
the Etruscans toasted to the Latins.
The Archangel Metatron came forward and sang:
“Your words are better than 100,000 books;
one of your poems is better than 100,000 languages;
one of your dreams is better than 100,000 kinds of life.
I'm Mithras, I'm Maitreya,
We saw it from the dome.
The pillars around had a phallic shape;
our soft dome was a vagina.
The Archangel painted the Metatron’s cube:
the secret of everything was in their midst.
People were running on horses with two heads
to tell each other about themselves.
From Babylon,
from Chang'an to Luoyang,
Beijing, Nanjing, Kyoto,
Rome, Byzantium, Moscow, Vienna, Berlin,
New York, Los Angeles,
Machu Picchu and Tenochtitlan.
Our gathering was better than 100,000 meetings.
Everything started from here,
and everything will end here.
Eventually we will see our children and grandchildren
scattered all over the world.
（Translated by Fiori Picco）
（Selected from Flowers of Empire, Fiori D’Asia Editrice）
