Cryptic Poem
By Ya Shi
Translated By Nick Admussen
The cardiac bang bang of literary fame and the bruising after,
you bang bang bang, I bruise for no reason at all.
A good guy, perched on the excavator, extends its metal arms
and the moment of exposure, of shame
condensed into a twinkling, lasts almost forever!
The summer dew writes back, says you're still not cryptic enough.
Fury has many categories: flattering, pinned in tight bun,
streaming cat piss, unaggrieved, engrossed by the broken soul . . .
Does the glittering system encourage weakness?
The fish bone chorus erupts, it shatters the land but sticks in the throat.
What's most serious must be prophesied correctly before it happens.
Swashbuckling heroism? Haven't seen it in ages. On heaven and earth's
makeshift chopping block, you can use fir, white oak, red pine . . .
Spirit and the flesh, sliced until they're so lean!
Copyright Credit: Ya Shi, "Cryptic Poem" from Floral Mutter. Copyright © 2020 by Ya Shi, translated by Nick Admussen. Reprinted by permission of Zephyr Press.
Source: Floral Mutter (Zephyr Press, 2020)