LIANG Shengling (China)

LIANG Shengling (China)
LIANG Shengling, is a poet in contemporary China, and he was born in 1958 in Nanning, Guangxi. As a freelancer who began writing poems since 2003, he has published his poems on various literary magazines and newspapers. In 2014 he was invited to attend the “Seminar on Literary Language” which was held at Zhejiang Normal University. He has published four poetry collections such as A Nail Is Advancing.
Climbing to Laghenla Mountain Pass
The sky opened by prayer banners
The mountain is walking on the land of his own fulfilled prophecy
I step over my own body
Fondling, attentive
The blood pressure is no higher than Laghenla Mountain Pass
Laghenla Mountain Pass is not a mountain pass
It is a post built by Buddha in the sky
Add oxygen to pilgrims, to rid distracting thoughts in the mind
In gazing Buddha is gazing
In gazing people see themselves
Here, I reach a beam of light
And see myself fondling my own body
Scoop the clear water of wind in the wind
Clean my own soul with my own soul
It the sky it is clear and bright, without a trace of shadow
Going to Bayanbulak
Travelling, I bring with me a road of 60 kilometers per hour
Enveloped by wafting blue fluorescent ribbon
September, the seasonal golden light has illumined horses and cattle and sheep
White clouds and snow are watching at the height
Bayanbulak is moving the grassland
The herd of sheep advancing, stopping now and then
I approach them with kindness
Approaching, see the eyes of sheep from the black head
The vast grassland is puzzled in the eyes of the sheep
As if winter is free of the shadow of the sheep
Now I am not sorrowful
In the eyes of Bayanbulak I am a docile child
At the advent of winter a skin is presented to me
This is the most precious gift to me by September
The kindest blessing: bliss
This season, between fast and slow
Many leaves manifest their existence by a drooping posture
In search of the warmth of water. Like snow
Which exhibits disappearance by the dissolving process
For purity to be eternity
The years cut by the knife of time
The sacred sun is broken while singing
The missiles pursuing blood are disorderly flying in the sky of the Middle East
The kind moon drowns its sorrow by desolation
Who knows? Is it fate or destiny?
I know that my body is never empty
There are things like leaves and snow passing by
There is black light which illumines the road ahead
We cannot see their color
Only feel a flowing and warmth
Translated by ZHANG Zhizhong

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s