Dr. Zhang Zhi (China) – President of IPTRC

Dr. Zhang Zhi (China)
President of IPTRC
Editor-in-chief of THE WORLD POETS QUARTERLY (multilingual) &
Editor-in-chief of WORLD POETRY YEARBOOK (English Version)
Diablo, born in Phoenix Town of Baxian County, Sichuan province in 1965, is an important poet, critic and translator in contemporary China. His original name is Zhang Zhi, English name is Arthur Zhang. He is a doctor of literature. He is the current president of the International Poetry Translation and Research Centre, executive editor of The World Poets Quarterly (multilingual), editor-in-chief of the English edition of World Poetry Yearbook. Some of his literary works have been translated into more than thirty foreign languages. He has ever won poetry prizes from Greece, Brazil, America, Israel, France, India, Italy, Austria, Lebanon, Macedonia, Kosovo, and Japan. His main works include poetry collections such as RECEITA (Portuguese-English-Chinese), SELECTED POEMS OF DIABLO (English), POETRY BY ZHANG ZHI (German-English-Portuguese), Selected Poems of Diablo (Chinese-English), and A Jigsaw Picture of the World (Albanian), خُصْلةٌ مِنْ شَعْرٍ عَلَىْ وَرَق(Arabic)collection of poetry criticism entitled Series Essays on Avant-Garde Chinese Poets, etc.. In addition, he has edited Selected Poems of Contemporary International Poets (English-Chinese), Selected New Chinese Poems of 20th Century (Chinese-English), The Book Series of World Poets (Bilingual), A Dictionary of Contemporary International Poets (multilingual), Chinese-English Textbook 300 New Chinese Poems (1917—2012), World Poetry Yearbook (English edition, 2013, 2014 & 2015), and Century-Old Classics·300 New Chinese Poems(1917-2016), etc.
The World Is Swaying in a Binoculars
The world fouled by
trash, semen, nuclear waste, heroin, blood and AIDS
can never be cleaned
Look! The world has entered KTV chartered room
Who knows which beautiful beast
delightfully moaning under his hips again
Tonight, the damned world will surely play rough
— It is also OK
if you image the scene
to be the Third World War
Rivers run east
Prostitutes go west
The world is like a lost lamb
standing at a crossroads
asking robots going north and south
“To whom I should bow, sir?”
The world is applauding for politicians with its feet
The politicians bathe the world in blood
The world cannot see clear our faces
maybe we have no face
“We can be shameless since we have no face”
a certain damned artist said so.
The world is waving its penis
howling on the top of the UN Edifice
“Behold, it is great”
In fact, last night
this fellow whispered to me in the dream
“Sir, my penis is of no use”
The world is unhurried
The world is not frightened
The world has gone under the wheel of history
but no blood is coming out
Who has ever seen the real blood
Whetting the knife, the world
is gouging out its own flesh
day and night. Dearth
is singing an everlasting song in a drop of blood
“Breast-fattening cream fattens the breast, not the waist”
Birds’ Language
Birds’ cry cannot be higher than the sky
Just like human beings
Never able to see themselves clearly
Those pupilla, bones and blood
Hidden in the concrete
No longer wake
Even if I say the world is like a picture
Even if I put up a sign to purchase testimony
Even if I hold babies’ hands
And gaze at the newborn tiger
Even if every day we read aloud
De luxe name, fairy tales and birds’ language
Who can believe from tonight on
Eagles should fly downward
Star light never dims
Or, snowflakes are lit for warmth
In the days when the land is covered with incantations
The moon walks together with the corpse
In Memory of a Butchered Chicken
Yesterday afternoon
I went out to buy a chicken
In the farmer’s market
It is moist all around the ground
In the air
The smell of rotten vegetables filled …
The chickens were put into
A big wire cage by a chicken trafficker
Beside it was a hair removal machine
Their feather on the ground around it
When I approached to the cage
They crowded around in horror
I pointed one of them I wanted to buy
Ask him to weigh it
When he reached
His hands stuck with a few pieces of feather
Into the wire cage
Faced with the extinction the chicken
Was actually motionless
It confirms
A familiar Chinese idiom
—Dumb as a wooden chicken
After weighed
He held
A gleaming knife
Aligning it’s neck
To force a touch
A surge of blood
Was instantly gushing…
The chicken
Was thrown into the machine
And then
He fetched a scoop of
Scalding water pouring down —
It screamed again and again
That also sparked those chickens in the cage
A scene of screaming …
Weakened finally
Until it disappeared in the chilly wind —
He had
Already opened
His machine to stir…
After a moment
A naked chicken
Right under my nose
Was chopped into pieces
At the same time
The chickens in the cage
Had also calmed down
Began pecking at the feed
Feeding by their master
Some began to smooth their feather
Some crowed
Some were fighting for food
What a peaceful and happy scene it was
As if their fellows’ fate
Did not link together with them at all
Just now what had happened
Also seemed to be a nightmare
All was calm again…

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