Chapter 8: The Sorrowful Landscape — Reading Three Landscape Poems by Hai Zi

“Dunhuang”

The Dunhuang grottoes are like under the belly of a horse
hanging one wooden bucket after another
the sound of milk dripping pierces the ears—
like on a distant grassland, on torn ears
flowers are hanging

Dunhuang is, a thousand years ago
a forest that caught fire
in an unfamiliar valley
it is the last mulberry grove—I exchanged
salt and grain there
I built rock caves, before death, and painted you
the image of the last handsome man
for the sake of a female squirrel
for the sake of a female bee
for the sake of letting them become pregnant again in spring

“Himalaya”

The plateau is suspended in the sky
the sky rolls toward me
I have lost everything
in front of me there is only the sea

I am in my own faraway distance
I am at the bottom of the sea of my homeland——
walking through the highest place in the world
Himalaya Himalaya

Who are you
hunger
pregnancy
rolling endlessly
rolling a head through the sky
placing it back into the sky

I came from the sea into the center of sunset
flying across the sky I cannot find a place to land
today there is grain but there is no hunger
today grain flies across the sky
unable to find a single hungry belly
hunger is fed by grain
becoming even more hungry, on the verge of death
the sky above the grasslands is unstoppable

Lips and I embrace the river
the head and his sisters
at the bottom of the great river leading to the ocean
the body whose head has been cut off still exists in the world
the highest mountain
is still growing upward

“Qinghai Lake”

This proud wine cup
for whom is it raised
the desolate plateau

Birds in the sky and salt—for whom are they raised

Waves retreat from lonely fingers
islands of white birds, sons encircle them
in distant filthy towns

A proud wine cup,
Princess of Qinghai, please hold me in your arms
I am so poor, so barren, I am so filthy
a pair of snow-white wings can only grant me a moment of happiness

I see you flying from the sun
blue princess—Qinghai Lake
my lonely fingers transform into snow-white birds in the sky

Among poets on the other shore, Hai Zi (Zha Haisheng) and Gu Cheng are the ones who move me most deeply. Both were precociously gifted poets, yet both chose to end their young lives, like two comets crossing the night sky of the Muse.

Hai Zi was a poet of keen thought and abundant creativity. In his merely eight-year creative career (1983–1989), short poems, long poems, and verse dramas coexisted. In the surviving fragments of his poetic dramas, many passages are “with sight but without words,” suggesting that he engaged in planned creative work. It is possible that certain sudden events led him to lose hope for a moment and step onto the irreversible path of suicide by lying across train tracks. In this commentary, the author will introduce three of Hai Zi’s “landscape poems.”

A “landscape poem,” if it is only a sketch of scenic sites, is no different from tourism advertising. Only when “emotion is expressed through scenery, and feeling is embedded within landscape” can aesthetic fusion be produced. In other words, the author must project emotion onto the scenery so that the landscape poem gains vitality and spirit, rather than remaining a flat and superficial description.

“Dunhuang” is a poem in which the scenery, filtered through the poet’s aesthetic vision, presents not only the cultural relics such as grotto Buddha images:
“The Dunhuang grottoes are like under the belly of a horse / hanging one wooden bucket after another / the sound of milk dripping pierces the ears— / like on a distant grassland, on torn ears / flowers are hanging”

Through two successive similes, associative imagination connects the grottoes with “wooden buckets” and “flowers,” both visual images, while also endowing them with an auditory element, “the sound of milk.” Such imaginative depiction transforms the reader’s established perception of the Dunhuang grottoes, expanding perception through both visual and auditory dimensions.

In the final section, a recollective presentation depicts Dunhuang’s historical foundation:
“It is, a thousand years ago / a forest that caught fire,” indicating that Dunhuang a thousand years ago was once covered by forest. The subsequent scenes are the poet’s imaginative return to that ancient time: within the mulberry grove of the valley, the poet imagines himself as a monk practicing in rock caves, leaving behind murals and traces in that place.

“Himalaya” opens by pointing directly to the Tibetan Plateau and the Himalayan mountain range, whose majestic peaks and surging sea of clouds create a vast, overwhelming scene:
“The plateau is suspended in the sky / the sky rolls toward me / I have lost everything / in front of me there is only the sea”

Faced with such scenery, the poet feels his own insignificance.

“You are who / hunger / pregnancy / placing the endless / rolling heads across the sky / back into the sky”

Here, the “you” should refer to “Himalaya.” The poet uses interrogative spoken language to pose his doubt to the Himalayan Mountains, speaking of its grandeur and its ruthlessness. In the long passage of time, it gives birth to and sustains generations of humans and livestock, in such a cycle of renewal and replacement. It is worth noting the image of “heads”: this refers to “living people,” belonging to the rhetorical device of metonymy, using a part to represent the whole.

In the third section, the author brings time and space back to the immediate scene:

“I came from the sea into the center of the setting sun / flying across the sky I cannot find a place to land”

He imagines himself as a vulture, circling in the sky above the plateau’s rugged peaks, searching for the corpses of humans and livestock. Yet on the plateau, people and animals have sufficient food and have been freed from the burden of hunger:

“Today there is grain but there is no hunger / today grain flies across the sky / unable to find a single hungry belly / hunger is fed by grain / becoming even more hungry, on the verge of death / the sky over the grasslands is unstoppable”

Thus the vulture can hardly find starved bodies to feed on; instead, the vulture itself is confronted with the problem of survival through hunger. This suddenly emerging imaginative sequence indeed gives the reader a sense of novelty.

The final section describes the people living on the plateau, generation after generation sustained by the nourishment of rivers:

“Lips and I embrace the river / the head and his sisters / at the bottom of the great river leading to the ocean / the body without a head still remains in the world”

The image of the “head” appears again, becoming the dominant image of the passage. It suggests that even though generations of people die, the Himalayas—the “highest mountain of all / still continue growing upward,” highlighting that in the vicissitudes of time, the Himalayas persist in existence and continue their upward growth.

“Qinghai Lake” is a saline lake on the plateau. At the beginning of the poem, the author uses a form of metaphor in which the vehicle is stated but the tenor is omitted, describing Qinghai Lake as a “wine cup” raised above the plateau:

“This proud wine cup / for whom is it raised / the desolate plateau”

This metaphor, of course, contains exaggeration, but because the shapes of the lake and a wine cup are similar, it can be accepted through the reader’s sensory experience. Above Qinghai Lake, birds circle, and strong winds scatter salt grains along the shore:

“Birds in the sky and salt—for whom are they raised / waves retreat from lonely fingers / islands of white birds, sons encircle them in distant filthy towns”

This passage depicts the life of local inhabitants living by the lake, where islands in the lake host white birds.

In the following two sections, Qinghai Lake is further personified as a blue Qinghai princess, holding a wine cup:

“A proud wine cup / Princess of Qinghai, please hold me in your arms / I am so poor, so barren, I am so filthy / a pair of snow-white wings can only grant me a moment of happiness”

The poet presents his desire to the princess: “please hold me in your arms” and a happiness that is lasting (not merely momentary). “I see you flying from the sun / blue princess—Qinghai Lake / my lonely fingers transform into snow-white birds in the sky.”

The reader’s vision follows the poet’s imagination. The final scene that appears is the poet transformed into a white bird, departing from poverty and desolation, flying toward the lake, and attaining a happiness like that of the white birds.