Winter through a Mirror
Hang Kang, translated by Sophie Bowman
1.
Peer at the pupil of a flame.
Bluish
heart
shaped eye
the hottest brightest thing
that which surrounds it
orange inner flame
the thing which flickers most
that which surrounds again
half-transparent outer flame
tomorrow morning, the morning I
depart for the furthest city
this morning
the bluish eye of a flame
peers beyond my eyes.
2.
Now my city is spring morning, if you pass through the core of the earth, bore straight through the middle without wavering, that city appears, the time difference there exactly twelve hours behind, the season exactly half a year behind so that city is now an autumn evening, as though silently following someone that city follows behind mine, to cross over the night to cross over winter I wait silently, while my city outruns that one like somebody silently overtaking
3.
Inside the mirror winter is waiting
A cold place
An utterly cold place
It’s too cold
objects cannot tremble
your (once frozen) face
cannot shatter
I don’t reach out my hand
you also
don’t want to reach out your hand
A cold place
A place that stays cold
It’s too cold
pupils cannot waver
eyelids
do not know how to close (together)
Inside the mirror
winter waits and
Inside the mirror
I cannot avoid your eyes and
You don’t want to reach out your hand
4.
They said we would fly for an entire day.
Tightly fold twenty-four hours pop it in your mouth and
go into the mirror they said.
Once I unpack in a room in that city
I should take time to wash my face.
If the suffering of this city silently overtakes
I will silently lag behind and
when you are not peering at it for a moment
lean against the frosty back of the mirror
and hum carelessly.
Until, having tightly folded twenty-four hours
and spat it out nudged with your hot tongue
you return and peer at me
5.
My eyes are two candle stubs sliding drips of wax as they consume the wick, it is not searing nor painful, they say that the quivering of the bluish flame core is the coming of souls, souls sit on my eyes and quiver, they hum, the outer flame swaying in the distance sways to get further off, tomorrow you leave for the furthest city, here I am ablaze, now you put your hands into the tomb of the void and wait, memory bites your fingers like a snake, you are not seared nor in pain, your unflinching face does not burn or shatter
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