Xiao Shami Han Shaojun
Tell me about him, he's a kid, once upon a time
The red-faced disciple, with a thick coat of dense floral pattern hanging from his shoulders
Learning to eat Shaanxi potatoes, the little prisoner brought by his father and brother
Smiling and squinting little shami, in the yellow dust, in the thin snow
Inside the wooden fence receives jingling coins
I know it's someone trying to touch your bare head
Someone was embarrassed, the hand was outstretched, and it was withdrawn again
They are all approaching you, and there is some discomfort in your chest
From a height of tens of meters, slowly descend the boardwalk
I can't get past that hurdle, little Shami
I'm behind banana leaves on the southern frontier
Seen you, the day of the resurrection, the early morning
You are sleepy, barefoot, holding a porridge bowl
Hammers struck along the street, on the banks of the Irrawaddy River
You've packed a few eels twisted together in small baskets
Everyone knows that you are a wooden knot in a cloth robe
One day, in my life, it played a role
A smiling star is right in front of you
Excerpt from Poetry Journal
Little Child Monk
by Han Shaojun
A few words about him: a mere child, a rosy-cheeked
novice earlier, but now carries a tapestry shoulder bag
and has got used to Shaanxi potatoes. This little captive soul was brought to priesthood by his father and brother.
Little monk, all smiles, roams the yellow earth and icy land,
accepting coins from pilgrims inside the palisade.
I see that some yearn to touch your tonsured head,
timorously stretching out a hand half way and quickly shrinking back.
Almost there, almost reaching you, but my tight chest
has slowed me down on the path, starting some hundred feet up.
I am not sure I can cross the hurdle, little child monk.
I once saw you behind banana leaves
in the south. On the day of rebirth, too early in the morning,
you kept dozing off, along Irrawaddy River, barefoot,
with a porridge bowl in hand, tapped with a drumstick.
You had a small basket with a small bundle of eels.
Everyone knows you are a son of man in a robe.
But one day you played a part in my life,
appearing before my eyes like a smiling star.
Han Shaojun is a member of the Chinese Writers Association, a member of the Hubei Provincial Writers Association, and the vice chairman of the Jingmen Municipal Federation of Literature and Literature in Hubei Province. In 1983, he began to study poetry, and wrote "Listening", "Chauvinism You Like", "Bathed Working Class", "What Sound Will Be in the Night", "Golden Day", "Another Ray of Sunshine", and won the first "or" Poetry Award, the first Chaoyang Literature and Art Award, the "Yangtze River Literature and Art" Poetry Award, etc.
Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists
Duck Yard Lyricists is a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Michael Soper, & Guy Hibbert.
This poem was written by PATHSHARERS BOOKS
Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists
Editor: Wang Aofei, Second Instance: Man Man, Final Trial: Jin Shikai
"Chinese Poetry to English Translation" is updated simultaneously on the "21st Century Chinese Poetry" website in the United States
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