A Sad Song of Wenchuan (Two Poems)

Her Little Hand Holding a Pen Is Already Cold

So many scenes are too horrifying to look at

Again and again eyes are blurred with tears

One picture especially pains the heart

A girl student is buried deep in the ruins

Her little hand holding a pen is already cold

Is this a broken arm? No. It’s a tender

Lotus root, a green bamboo shoot

But it’s crushed now before its growth

And it’s scarred and tainted with blood

Her little hand holding a pen is already cold

But she’s still unwilling to give up

She’s still holding tightly a pen in hand

Holding her dream, holding the entire world

With her life that has just departed

Her little hand holding a pen is already cold

With the pen, she paints flowers and butterflies

With the pen, she does mathematics and writes compositions

And will draw her beautiful hometown

But the hometown has become a heap of ashes

Her little hand holding a pen is already cold

Remember her, though you cannot

See her face, nor her eyes

Remember every arm that has fallen down

And every youth that will not blossom

Her little hand holding a pen is already cold

There Is Great Love in Humanity

Wenchuan, a place that can hardly be found on a map

Concentrates the greatest pain, and focuses the greatest love

For you, compatriots’ feelings and humanity’s conscience

Rise high on a sudden, and shine with unusual splendours

In the blood bank, the blood donated almost spills over

And donations are from billionaires as well as beggars

To save life, this is a supreme order

Don’t ask: Who I am? Where I come from

Or say who are saviors and who are the saved

In fact, to save Wenchuan is just to save ourselves

In the dark, we had long agreement and watching

I could have no paradise, if you were in hell

The tiny globe is illumined by myriads of praying candles

Wenchuan has become a vocabulary in different languages

We thank rich countries for their helicopters and field hospitals

But the donation of poor small nations is even more touching

Calamity is equal; calamity has no boundary

Before nature, anyone is so weak and helpless

Yet Wenchuan has confidence, so does China, and the world

Though nature’s cruel sometimes, there’s great love in humanity