Three poems by Baima Cuomu
I See a Tipsy Hummingbird
By Baima Cuomu tr. Fan Jinghua
Pushing open the window, I see no hollering blue sea
But a hummingbird tipsy in the sunlight
With its needlelike happiness and needlelike pain. I see
Tipsy hummingbirds anchoring in the sunlight, like grains of sand.
Oct. 18, 2009
Luckily I am only a tall tale for you
It is said that I only sing on the midnight sea surface, and never have a drop of tears
If I sink into remembering, I would dance, and there is not a single star
Seeing my pain. There is not a single traveler from a foreign land
Showing his unclouded smile. No eyes gaze at the flower of storm in my palm.
Sept. 12, 2009
By Baima tr. Fan Jinghua
Those flowers that crawl and cry on the ground, I am not among them.
I am an absentee, with a snake-like waist, gnashing my teeth
For the spring that comes late. I am also the beloved of gold, disowned
From the whitefly clan. Such a eulogy is enough to cause deafness.
One day, I struck a piece of luck and lost my way. No one ever looked along the road.
Burying myself in the drunken Orion, peeping at language’s hidden arsenal,
Walking past the summer, and annoying winter, and then seeing the unaccountable
Disquieting spring. Even if my mouth is clogged by rice straw, I would say: I am present.
Baima in Tibet Sept. 2009
About the Poet 诗人简介
Baima, or Baima Cuomu, born in Shandong in 1972, began publishing poems as early as at the age of 16. She had been in the army in Beijing, and lived in Jiangsu, Beijing and Lhasa. She now lives in Linyi, Shandong. She authors a poetry book The Messenger on the Way, and co-authors a poetry book We Seven. Baima is a fiercely confident poet, but chooses to key very low-keyed. I believe she is among the top dozen of women poets of contemporary China.