Bei Dao is one of the most influential contemporary Chinese poets, celebrated for his powerful imagery, emotional depth, and quiet resistance against oppression. His poetry blends mystery, memory, exile, and hope, creating verses that resonate deeply with readers across the world. Known as a leading voice of the “Misty Poets” movement, Bei Dao’s work reflects the struggles of identity, freedom, and human emotion in times of political uncertainty. From haunting reflections on loneliness to bold expressions of resilience, his poems continue to inspire poetry lovers, scholars, and modern writers alike. In this collection, explore some of the best Bei Dao poems that reveal the beauty, pain, and timeless wisdom hidden within his unforgettable words.
The Answer
By Bei Dao
Debasement is the password of the base,
Nobility the epitaph of the noble.
See how the gilded sky is covered
With the drifting twisted shadows of the dead.
The Ice Age is over now,
Why is there ice everywhere?
The Cape of Good Hope has been discovered,
Why do a thousand sails contest the Dead Sea?
I came into this world
Bringing only paper, rope, a shadow,
To proclaim before the judgment
The voice that has been judged:
Let me tell you, world,
I—do—not—believe!
If a thousand challengers lie beneath your feet,
Count me as number thousand and one.
I don't believe the sky is blue;
I don't believe in thunder's echoes;
I don't believe that dreams are false;
I don't believe that death has no revenge.
If the sea is destined to breach the dikes
Let all the brackish water pour into my heart;
If the land is destined to rise
Let humanity choose a peak for existence again.
A new conjunction and glimmering stars
Adorn the unobstructed sky now;
They are the pictographs from five thousand years.
They are the watchful eyes of future generations.
Hello, Baihua Mountain
By Bei Dao
The sound of a guitar drifts through the air.
Cupped in my hand, a snowflake quivers lightly.
Thick patches of fog draw back to reveal
A mountain range, rolling like a melody.
I have gathered the inheritance of the four seasons.
There is no sign of man in the valley.
Picked wild flowers continue to grow,
Their flowering is their time of death.
Along the path in the primordial wood
Green sunlight flows through the slits.
A russet hawk interprets into bird cries
The mountain's tale of terror.
Abruptly I cry out,
"Hello, Bai—hua—Mountain."
"Hello, my—child," comes the echo
From a distant waterfall.
It was a wind within a wind, drawing
A restless response from the land,
I whispered, and the snowflake
Drifted from my hand down the abyss.
Pastoral
By Bei Dao
wolves of music weave their way at a run
hawthorns wheeze with clandestine laughter
turning a new leaf, tide's out
young ship-captains high up on balconies
look far away through telescopes
east and west
a single fruit cut into halves
beneath a tree grown from the pit I once spit out
I've hung nets to
trap birds, and waited how many years
Ramallah
Bei Dao
in Ramallah
the ancients play chess in the starry sky
the endgame flickers
a bird locked in a clock
jumps out to tell the time
in Ramallah
the sun climbs over the wall like an old man
and goes through the market
throwing mirror light on
a rusted copper plate
in Ramallah
gods drink water from earthen jars
a bow asks a string for directions
a boy sets out to inherit the ocean
from the edge of the sky
in Ramallah
seeds sown along the high noon
death blossoms outside my window
resisting, the tree takes on a hurricane’s
violent original shape
Declaration
By Bei Dao
Perhaps the final hour is come
I have left no testament
Only a pen, for my mother
I am no hero
In an age without heroes
I just want to be a man
The still horizon
Divides the ranks of the living and the dead
I can only choose the sky
I will not kneel on the ground
Allowing the executioners to look tall
The better to obstruct the wind of freedom
From star-like bullet holes shall flow
A blood-red dawn
Fine Sky
Nocturnal horses gallop past over the streetlights
Sorrowful sound is omnipresent
I sit at the corner of the century
A cup of hot coffee: stadium
A soccer game is on
Spectators jump up and turn into crows
O, the failed scandal
Is like the morning sun
Aging is like climbing high
Bringing me to a higher storey
The sage amid clouds beats the drum
The fishing boats sew seas
Please fold this moment up along the line of the horizon
Let the corn stay close to the stars
God’s despairing arms
Turn around on the watch face
