Wu Ang (b. 1974, Fujian Province, China) writes about fizzled-out love affairs that feel no more mundane than the routine of clocking into work, yet still heavy enough to compel one to pen a poem or ten. Teetering on the edge between melodrama and languid disinterest, the speaker in Wu Ang’s poems is canny in her observation, wry in her humor, and irresistible in her casual charisma, grafting us into her scenes of stagnant domesticity and the nagging desire for more—whether this “more” is for better or worse remains an open question, buoyed only by a distracted yet insistent need to look elsewhere, to let our eye wander. Wu Ang’s poems sit precariously at the precipice of alterity; before we force ourselves to finally separate from each other, she seems to say, let us indulge in the noxious comfort of this fraying cocoon we have weaved for ourselves for just one moment longer.
It will come as a surprise to no one that I discovered and started translating the writings of Wu Ang in the wake of a doomed relationship. Wu Ang’s poems cracked me open and made me—they still make me—feel like “a used rag on the floor,” covered in the muck of my own failed romance but still warm from the phantom touches of its bruising caresses too. And maybe the act of translation itself, then, is my way of clinging to this rapidly cooling warmth. For better or worse.
— Cecily Chen
被窝
冷，但也还可以将就一夜
等伸出第三只手来
打发你，打开你
一旦睡着，开始做梦
就找不到枕头
你在正下方
我是块地道的抹布
然后心开始乱了
然后窗户打开，伸出个拖把来
水多，但还是太顺利了
我们并排躺在地板上
像两颗没甜味的糖
bed
cold, but still bearable enough for one more night
until a third hand reaches out
to dismiss you, to render you undone
once asleep, the dreams begin
the pillows are nowhere to be found
you are right there, underneath
and i, a used rag on the floor
and then the heart goes aflutter
and then the windows open, a mop passes through
there is a flood, but everything still happens oh so smoothly
side by side, we lie on the floor
like two pieces of candy that had lost their sweetness
一个应该做爱的晚上
一个应该做爱的晚上
我们吵架
并且分床而睡
开始的时候
你的侧面还很年轻
天亮后
两人都累了
我跳起来穿好衣服
说我要出门去
得尽快找个地方
比如，像交通警察
站在街口
或者像保姆那样
毫无感觉地
睡着
on a night meant for making love
on a night meant for making love
we quarrel
and sleep in separate beds
in the beginning
you look young from the side, still
in the morning after
both of us, exhausted
i jump out of bed to get ready
and say that i need to leave
in this very moment i must reach my mark
for instance, like the officer
who stands guard at the intersection
or like a governess
who, in slumber
is indifferent to the world
请把我埋葬在镜子里
请把我埋葬在镜子里
让我知道谁在我坟前逗留
久久地逗留
一双惊恐的猫眼 或者
害羞的蜘蛛娘
我允许婴儿指尖
轻如豆角的触摸
允许情人
因为背叛而亲吻
却难于忍受
藤叶上的齿印
被一滴水
打湿
please could you bury me in a mirror
please could you bury me in a mirror
so i will know who lingers before my grave
who lingers there, and lingers
a cat’s pair of frightened eyes or
a girlishly timid arachnid
i allow the fingertips of a newborn
whose touch is as soft as a peapod’s shell
allow lovers
that embrace because of the cut of betrayal
yet i cannot tolerate
teeth marks on the vines
that dampen
from a single drop of dew