THE BLESSING by Mi Chong

THE BLESSING

by Mi Chong  

If any dopier than this, I'd have to scold myself. 

After the long parting since September, some things  

have returned, but poetry, the other essential, 

remains absent. Fortunately, all callowness and illusions 

will be forgiven here. As in so many nights in the past,  

we sparred with words as in judo, push and shove, 

as in fencing, never let our guards down, throwing darts

and other weapons at each other with terms such as nihilism and revolution,  

making surprise attacks; and occasionally 

we were at a loss, doubting our own agility, 

hoping for an illness, a quick death, to relieve the toil. 

No need to blush, time will sift out true sweetness, 

and you, who aimed for the stars, have guided me, 

told me about a parallel sky, where someone lit a candle high, 

so I paddled my bicycle and visited Wallace, and Paul Celan, too, 

other times we went to a Sichuan noodle shop, where we drank 

the cold hard liquor to quench red hot chili; other times 

you went for broke, going for the stronger bitter-tasting spirits, 

getting rid of all artifice, you held my arm and rested my weary head. 

"Don't exhaust yourself, we need to keep the water trickling!" 

—Now, two distant clouds have met and merged, 

you and you have become you. 

I am excited that lovely people connect 

and weave a strong line across space; I am excited 

that the wings of song are steady to carry the butterfly places! 

But my friends, look, it took many years,  

including some reflection, for me to know your heart, 

and the same with many other friends, 

those perfectionists, cautiously moving ahead, 

those curious, picking flowers in the depths of the cloud, 

yet we know that even far-flung friendships must anchor on something smaller,  

each man is like an island, with a navigation chart for sailing to ports thousands of miles away. 

As strong as you are together, there will be crosswinds and churning seas ahead to overcome. 

But friends, do not worry too early! 

It's now time to depart, to break away 

from the island that has sheltered you, you and I will continue 

to wander the great earth's crust as if peeling a new egg— 

anticipating a new layer of existence. 

As for our friendship, as feeble as messages are, 

I feel the gift of poetry is more likely to be remembered, and 

we may still glimpse each other's shadow wherever we are. 

If we should linger, it will only be for watching tides. 

The ocean will not be a barrier that separates, 

for waves will come up to take a part of us to the other shore.

About the poet:

Mi Chong, a native of Nancheng, Jiangxi Province, is 23 years old and now lives in Shanghai. He won the 4th Southern Progressive Poet Prize.