The Cantus Of The Infinitely Compassionate Poem by Jiang Haizhou

Back home (the quanta) , wife and kids
are not there; step out (the metagalaxy) , don’t know where should live in…
-Noted by the Cathayan lad

Walking ahead, there is a human-shaped lamb (I used to suspect it’s I myself) ,
Facingthe feast that is requested by the ghosts of the kith and kin through a dream to tend towards
A vast expanse of whiteness, where is really a clean world (on the top, there is a shining altar) :
Around the necks in pillories, as a string of red prayer beads, there have left blood marks of the rising sun.
The beads have been turning the varied doubts and suspicions around between life and death-until we wake up.

After that …… I have seen time:
There are mixed vassals and stand-ins ambulating on the blurry screen wall facing the gate,
Fugaciously and continuously. Involved in it sideways, I am a little impossible, because
I can’t help laughing while I am answering a call of nature.
(The laughter is usually flooded by tears before been evoked)

See how I am the “spacing” being in that alignment having fresh air or after them:
Insects, figures, birds, beasts, manikins, speculative peddlers, kings, corpses, shamans, plumed flamens, harries,
Eminem’s, cloned leads, masks, assassinators, cross carriers, scholars, x’s and y’s, executioners, prisoners,
Startling dead souls, tyrants, pirates, political rogues, animals, spies, translators, celestialbeing, no to things,
Things like non-free, atom, “? ”, defendants, class dissidents, prepared plaintiff,
Mr.Wu has the most stealth of darkness, dense ambassadors, handkerchief sisters, demons,
Darkest stealth practitioners, clowns, mechanics, traveling monks, witches, pianists playing bad music,
The shocking, goblins, ones non-human, etc....
They each are carrying a star on their head and a chair in their hands (there’s nobody wants to give up)
In dream or out, were always heard the clutter of their walking around
(Some are charming poisesand exquisite bearing, ……more are with disheveled hair and barefoot;
Some are not born yet, ……more already approach death) .
They are from back of X-ray - walk through circumgyrating malpositioned ladders
Then get through the gloomy and cold underground and the thundering overbridge.
Oh, the future journey is full of frustrations and far away, but there is only one goal-
Voila–to go to the center of the metagalaxy to attend a round-table conference for scrambling for seats and say.

This is an open touching pitch mystery: Bright nights and dark nights stretching,
The sunlight is like bolts from the blue, this is a moment must be sure that can’t be forgotten,
Endless struggling, a congruence of innumerable vivisectional despiritualized films (waiting for being developed) .
……as the terrestrial projection this decade is again an even longer inexorable doom, being
Putrefied to become an swarm exploding, flooding over a mountained plaza, and scrambling for a seat
Once honoured as scrambling for being a big news. To be contract hereby concluded and filed for future reference,
Give a halloo of “long live” then, - oh, how touching a scene, now, it will be recurring in a mirror on the memoir
Treasured-up as a cultural relic every time be opened, like continuously flaming black smoke
(glinting demoniac faces) , floating back and forth along with sighing -
Now going on hand I am ridden, like a slave with sweated spirit full of thanks and suspicions to the saviour……

Today, standing on the last page of the century we look ahead and look back(you can always find-) :
Still the same alignment, still I am walking in the alignment.
The different from that is the happened subtil order-change of the position (some died flesh appear in that
By changing their appearance or wearing fur and horns) by permeating the flappy earth I catch a glimpse of
The varieties of the Hadean spectacle, I see all my past and waiting for the arrival of the ferry.
I see my gone father just walking with me like a speechless conclavist being afraid of
The same inconceivable two worlds silently and the future of them.

Moreover, I will give up all or let all give up me,
Because on my lonely footsteps I start to feel pity for the fabricated accusal of the time,
Also for my father, amongst the rain-spreading in riotous profusion and amongst the big waving
Of pious prayers, -the past, the present, and the future, the grief of the people's hard livelihood,
I too feel pity for everyone in the “worm-led” endless alignment. Carrying a star on their head
I feel pity for myself getting old in this ring of fire:
All materialistic beings and immaterial ones.


drafted in 1992, revised many times til 1997 in Huafeng housing estate