Mourning for Those Who Starved to Death "
——To the mortal people who died of hunger

Writer：Wen Qing

Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations, UNICEF and the World Health Organization jointly issued the report "World Food Security and Nutrition Status in 2018". The number of hungry people in the world is rising,had reached 821 millions in 2017, that means, one in nine goes hungry.   
.....Inion

1

The world is boundless. We mourn our distant relatives.
Like a vine grasps the soil
Drawing a dead bone from ancient times
The earth is so grand， the complaining spirit is below.
All the deaths are not enough to offset the hunger.
Let us remember those people who died of hunger
It's the panic hiding in our blood
For this reason, we must find the source of their tremble
And pull out everything their are afraid of
Then join them to be free and lucky people

Sacrifice is the sharpest helplessness
A thorn directly reaching a heart will blossom brilliantly
Its poisonous fruit
Will paralyze one crazy age after another
The love or hatred of later generations will spoil the land
To open the jar of imprisoning devils
The tragedy of cannibalism
Will promote segments of human history going on
And timely predict the destruction of one devil after another

2

To understand one thing, a lifetime is too short
It has to go through flooding, mud sealing, frost and exposure
Sorting out and sacrifice
Its experience is fragile once being touched
The memory stirred to be numb by humiliation and horror
Is slowly dissipating.
Only the ghosts died of hunger
Will wander on the earth for 10,000 years

When I was young
The dead bones were still seen everywhere in this land.
Local labors return from cities
They grow crops with walking steel
The crushing under the caterpillar band bursts out phosphorescence
All lives on earth
Pass on the last faint cry
With cold glow of night moon

Which dynasty do the bones of those people belong to
A yearning for a grain of rice
Makes them persist to this day
We are the blood and bones，muddling along
The hunger gene
Is like hard mottles on withered bones
Which has implanted in the origin of life
Seeing the death of those near the crops.
Is a bitter chill making one’s heart ache

3

Dead bones have strong memories
In a ghostly legend
They crawl to the edge of the field，the lips greened by wheat seedlings
Uncover the fear of famine
For the Cyanosis cannot been warmed
The childish and weak lives
Are cleaned by frozen pond water at the village entrance
The skinny bodies sink in the bottom of the pond
Their prominent eyes can not close even after ten thousand years

The cruelty deeply in mud
Becomes fragrance of human flesh in earthen pots
It exposes profound despair
The moment when human thought and conscience pause at the same time
Destruction is like victory
Death corroborates truth
Almost all human nature is burned by the fire of devils
The whole world has no scruples

The earth reclaims everything
Dead bones keep guarding the soil
All the gentleness and honesty achievements of the names of the dead
Hide in the cold land with the pleasure of suicide
My native ancestors have stop thinking
They all have no doubt about the unexpected tragedy
They keep living to the last breath w
With all tenacity and their remained strength being squeezed by death

4

Soil’s wounds heal in thunderstorms
Only the dead bones that can't be digested by time
Make the hymn of death be so tragic
History is like a ghost, never chatting with reality
The chronological histories of countless families
Have buried in simple graves chosen by posterity
Plants grow and crawl around crazily
They attempt to find neighbors for the scattered souls

What will they talk when they meet?
The empty manor has lost common topic
Its sons and grandchildren have fled
With deep doubt about the land
The terror gene deep-buried is beginning to emerge.
Even the most invincible years
Can not mislead the return of humanity again
The indigenous people who have survived for eight thousand years
Have already pulled their roots out of the ground.

The dead bones， their main roots
Have become part of the land
Which will no longer absorb nutrients after losing its branches and leaves
People who can't load the land
Float in the world
Only the fired Paper Money of Qingming and Spring Festival
Can alleviate the vertigo of losing the foundation

5

Time and space have strange channels
The great sorrow and grief of nations are deep in netherworld
The humiliation and shame of nations have pretended to be noble
The weathered bone mixed with hot blood
Is about to light a phosphorus fire
Numerous villages have disappeared for a long time
In the phantom of broken walls and ruins
There must be a world of thunder which will burst at regular intervals

The monument lies in deep earth
It's a irony lotus seed，not bending
There is no need to distinguish heroes from common people
Or abnormal death from great sacrifice
That boundless gulf
Is an unpredictable death of millions of hungry people

A wandering soul with high spirit and weak body
Lies in the fragrant wheat fields and pillows green rice fields
In a corner of the earth
By the runaway light smoke
It draws the death and dormancy of human nature in the blue sky

6

The crazy breaking of the embankment of human civilization
Is the blood that countless people talk about
When immortal sins that cannot be forgiven become delicacies
The mighty light of the river swallows the death.
Dead bones live in the bottom of the water
Eventually the multiplying slim grass will grow from generation to generation.
The endless swimming fish
Invade the red stamp on every contract
As despair is skipping in the world

"Every noble man with a seal on his waist"
Controls an irony bed made of disgrace
Fish and shrimp swallow up each other with the following tide
It creates a monster who makes tough waves
In a land of great misery
The wandering procession grows longer and longer
All the people who are full of vigour
Are competing for a glorious death

The sound of broken bones and flesh
Becomes the drum points of ceremony in the world
It's not just a hero's greatness or narrowness.
It's also the fragments of gene deletions of one nation
When all people throw themselves away
Disclosure, delation, tracking and framing will come
The whole world will worship destruction and killing.
And push all meanness, nobility and indifference to the extreme
And then leap down
Joys and sorrows of a lifetime will be buried by the broken ground

7

The age when landscapes grow alone
Fate is mercilessly reversed by one sentence
“The world is in my hands，everything is driven to be a dog”
All the paused nerves corner people
And go deep into the picturesque world.
The heroism of “I am the only Superman”
Has depicted a fantastic extraordinary absurdity
The hot blood unifying the whole world
Control thought space which is a little smart

So the earth is on a fire
Food and life are used as fuel
War smokes rise in the hearts of nations
The shock and incomprehension of the whole world
Can not reach insanity
The ambition to control a country of tigers and wolves has reached the horizon.
And become symbols of nations
The world watches this through the night

So the earth catches a fire
Taking the last remained miscellaneous grains
And last flesh and blood as fuel
The dead bones of hunger have been thrown away
The heavy ancestral precepts have been put aside
It goes to the heaven with insane dreams

8

Carrying a stiff bun made of different flour
A guilty teenager traveled on hungrily at night
He sneaked back to the village
He saw his starving father spread out hands in the dust
He could not cry.
He broke the bun into pieces
To his mother and sister
After drinking winter water in the pond he turned around and went away
The tough night of death was filled with dark stars
There was no fear in his heart
From then on
He has been walking that long road for tens of millions of miles.

"Mum"
Please don't eat my face first."
"Dad
Please keep my legs and stomach for my brother."
Many years later
A ragged teenager
Is listening to some old ladies talking about that calmly
In the leeward of the village，facing the sun

"Which part of the human body is the most tasty part?"
Some people say “ The penis”
Some people say "The nipple"
The dead bone is speechless, and the years cannot open their mouths
The sharpest, coldest and calmest details of the world
Will pierce this devastated earth

9

This is the last section.
The bones being burned up
With the last white hair, go gradually into graves
The village is getting old
The face of the land is so vague
We are survivors of the starvation
We can only record this with our own blood
The bloody lands have riveted into history in a tragic way
At the despicable and cruel peaks
It drives the whole human being, look back frequently

Let death grow out of the ground
May freshmen grow out of the ground
May the national altars
Comfort he last section of hungry bones
And send the millions of the starved souls home
You will see hundreds of millions of people will wave to them
In the same homeland of mankind
May all wrongdoers rest in peace
This grand land is shared by the survivors and the wronged souls


Author's Profile:
Wen Qing, was born in 1970s in Xixian County, Henan Province，a member of the Chinese Writers Association and vice chairman of Xinyang Writers Association Henan Province. He has published poetry collection “A Soul in a Finger”、“The Natural Snow”、“Water-like Color”、“ Clouds in the Heaven”、“A Book about the Time”、“A Note for My Cases ”。
He had won the First and Second He Jingming Literature Award、the First Annual Creation Award for Henan Poets、 the Second and Third Henan Literature Award、 the Second Du Fu Literature Award of Henan Province、 the Second Gold Prize of Henan Province for the Yourh、the Third and Sixth Award for Excellent Achievements of Literature and Art of Henan Province、the first award of the Fifth Network Literature Competition of Army、the Twelfth Army Excellent Literature and Art Works Award、100 Most Powerful Poets Award of Chinese New Poetry in one Hundred Year, etc. He had participated in the earthquake relief work in Yushu, Qinghai Province, and attended the 20th Senior Research Class for Young and Middle-aged Writers of Lu Xun Literature Academy and the 1st Writers Research Class of Henan Literature Academy.

Translator：
Lin Qiaoer, female ,pen name Lina-Moon，is from Guangzhou , English translator.She mainly writes modern poetry、lassical metrical poetry 、literary criticism and translation between Chinese and English. Her modern poetry、archaic-style poetry、literary criticism and translation works had partly published in “People's Daily”、“Shenzhen Daily”、“Happy English Newspaper”、“Selected poems Journal ”、“Poetry Trend” 、”Mangzhong ”、“Huohua”、“Chian’s Financial Culture”，and so on， more than 40 newspapers and magazines.
She had won prizes many time in poetry competitions at different levels such as the first national poetry competition of Jiangxi “Jiebo Cup” and so on，had published “Short Poems of Lina-Moon" (Chinese and English），“Ten Female Poets in South China”（Chinese collection）。




饿殍祭
——献给尘世因饥馑而死的人们
         
       温青

    联合国粮农组织、儿童基金会、世界卫生组织等联合发布《2018年世界粮食安全和营养状况》报告称：全球饥饿人数正在上涨，2017年达到8.21亿人，即每九人中就有一人在挨饿。
    ——题记


1

尘世无边，我们哀悼远亲
像蔓草抓住泥土
从远古牵引一截枯骨
大地之大，怨灵在下
所有的死亡都不足以抵消饥饿
让我们的灵魂记住那些饿殍
是躲藏在我们血液里的惊恐
为此，我们必须找到他们颤栗的灵根
拔出他们畏惧的一切
和他们一起，成为自由酣畅的子民

祭奠，是最为尖锐的无奈
直达人心的刺，会开出艳丽的花
它有毒的果实
将麻痹一个又一个疯狂的年代
后世的爱恨情仇败坏土地
把囚禁魔鬼的瓶子打开
一次次人吃人的悲剧
推动一段段人类的历史
及时预告着一个个魔鬼的覆灭

2

想明白一件事情，一生一世太短
它必须经历水淹、泥封、霜冻、曝晒
拾拣和祭奠
它一触即碎的身世
被屈辱、惊悚刺激到麻木的记忆
已在慢慢消散
只有那些饥饿修成的鬼魂
还要在大地上游荡一万年

年轻的时候
枯骨在这片土地上还随处可见
自从城里回来的打工仔
用行走的钢铁捉拿庄稼
履带下的粉碎迸射出磷光点点
大地上所有的生命
以夜月亮的冷辉
传递那最后一声隐约的哭喊

这是哪一朝子民的骨头
对一粒米粮的渴念
让他们坚持到今天
我们是一丝苟活的骨血
饥饿的基因
如同枯骨上坚硬的斑驳
早已锲入生命的原点
看到那些挨近庄稼的死亡
是一阵阵刺痛人心的恶寒

3

枯骨有着强直的记忆
在一个幽灵般的传说中
爬行到田边被麦苗染绿的嘴唇
暴露了饥荒的疑惧
一个个幼稚而羸弱的生命
因那不能暖热的青紫
被村头结冰的池塘直接清洗
沉于塘底的皮包骨
凸显的眼睛，一万年都不能关闭

深入淤泥的残忍
变成瓦罐人肉的天香
暴露了未世的绝望滋味
人类思维与良知同时停顿的一刻
毁灭如同胜利
死亡印证真理
几乎全部的人性被恶魔之火焚烧
整个世界已毫无顾忌

大地回收一切
枯骨带给泥土守望之礼
所有的温良淳厚成就亡魂的名字
以自杀的快感，隐于冰冷的土地
我土生土长的祖先们
都停止了思考
他们对天降的横祸毫不置疑
用死亡压榨剩余的一丝气力
让所有的坚韧决绝都活到了最后一息

4

泥土的伤口在雷雨中愈合
只有满世界的时光都不能消化的枯骨
让死亡的赞歌如此凄厉
历史如同鬼魅，与现实从不搭讪
只有无数家庭的断代史
埋葬在后人草拣的坟茔里
疯长的植物，四处爬行
企图为散落的孤魂，找回邻居

他们相聚会说起什么
空旷的庄园，已经失去了共同话题
逃离土地的子子孙孙
满怀对这片土地的深深狐疑
深埋了恐怖的基因开始显现
就连最无敌的岁月
也不能再次误导人性的回归
熬过了八千年的土著们
早已从地下拔出自己的根须

枯骨是他们的主根
已经变作了这片土地的一部分
失去枝叶之后，将不再吸收养分
无法背负土地的人们
漂浮在人间
只有清明和年关的火纸
才能减轻失去根基的眩晕

5

时空有着诡异的通道
一个个民族的大悲大恸深入黄泉
一个个国度的耻辱与羞愧装成崇高
枯骨拌以热血
即将燃起磷火
无数消失已久的村落
断壁残垣的魅影里
必有旷世惊雷定时而爆

纪念碑在泥土深处
同样不会弯腰，它是一枚铁莲子
无需分辨英雄与百姓
非正常死亡与壮烈牺牲
那道无边无垠的鸿沟
是深不可测的千万饿殍

精神饱满肌体羸弱的游魂
在泥土的一隅
醉卧浓香的麦地，头枕青翠的稻田
以偷偷飘逸的缕缕轻烟
在蓝天绘出人性的死亡与休眠

6

人类文明决堤的疯狂
是无数人挂在嘴边的血腥
当永世不能赦免的罪恶成为美食
大河浩荡的光波吞咽了死亡
枯骨活在水底
世代繁衍的细草终要生长
生生不息的游鱼
伴随流窜人间的绝望
侵入每一张契约上的大红印章

“每一位腰揣印章的贵人”
都卧据一张耻辱铸就的铁床
追随潮流涌动的鱼虾互相吞噬
造就兴风作浪的混世魔王
苦难深重的大地
漫游的队伍越拉越长
所有壮怀激烈的人们，争先恐后
赶赴一个光辉灿烂的死亡

骨肉破裂的声音
在人间，成为仪式的鼓点
这不仅是一个个英雄的伟大或偏狭
也是一个个民族基因缺失的片断
当所有的人们扔掉自我
揭露、告发，跟踪和诬陷
整个世界便崇尚毁灭和杀戮
把一切卑鄙、崇高和平淡推向极端
然后一跃而下
用一地破碎掩埋一世悲欢

7

风景独自生长的年代
命运在一句话语里无情逆转
世界在我手中，万物驱为鹰犬
所有停顿的神经
网络芸芸众生，深入如画江山
舍我其谁的英雄气概
绘就如梦似幻的世外荒诞
那一统天下的鲜血
洗劫一丝尚存清明的思维空间

大地就这样着火了
以粮食、以生命作为燃料
在一个个民族的内心升起滚滚狼烟
整个世界的惊愕与不解
无法抵达疯狂
驾驭虎狼之国的雄心壮志已庞大到天边
成为一个个民族的符号
让这个世界，彻夜围观

大地就这样着火了
以仅存的杂粮
以最后的血肉作为燃料
抛下饥饿的枯骨
抛下沉重的祖训
与狂梦一起上天

8

怀揣一个僵硬的杂面窝窝头
负罪的少年空腹夜行
偷偷潜回到村头
看到饿毙的父亲摊开于尘埃的那双手
他不能哭泣
把窝窝头细细掰碎
分给到母亲和妹妹
灌几口池塘里的深冬之水，扭头便走
死亡的夜晚，满天暗星
他内心里没有一丝恐怖
从此
一直在走那千万里的漫漫长路

“母亲
不要先吃我的脸”
“父亲
把我的腿肚子给弟弟留住”
多少年后
一个衣衫褴褛的少年
在村落的背风向阳之处
听几个老太太平静地絮叨——

“人的身上，哪个部位最有嚼头？”
有人说是“鸡鸡”
有人说是“奶头”
枯骨无言，岁月不能开口
人世间最尖利最冷酷最淡定的细节
会扎破这颗满目疮痍的地球

9

这是最后一节
熬尽了油性的枯骨
伴随最后的白发，渐渐进入坟墓
村庄的时光老了
土地的面目如此模糊
我们是饿殍的遗孙
只能用自己的血脉记录
一片片血土，惨绝人寰地铆入历史
在一个又一个卑劣与冷酷的巅峰
带动整个人类，频频回首

让死亡从地下长出来吧
让新生从地下长出来吧
让一个个民族的祭坛
安慰最后一节
饥饿的枯骨
送千千万万饿殍的游魂回家
你会看到亿万人们向英灵挥手
在人类共同的家园
让所有的冤魂安息
这是活下来的人们与冤魂共有的大地



作者简介：
温青，生于上世纪70年代，河南省息县人，中国作家协会会员，河南省信阳市作家协会副主席。著有《指头中的灵魂》、《天生雪》、《水色》、《天堂云》、《光阴书》、《本命记》等，曾获第一、二届何景明文学奖，首届河南诗人年度创作奖，第二、三届河南省文学奖，第二届河南省杜甫文学奖，第二届河南省五四文艺奖金奖，第三、六届河南省文学艺术优秀成果奖，第五届全军网络文学大赛一等奖，第十二届全军优秀文艺作品奖，“华语新诗百年百位最具实力诗人奖”等。参加过青海玉树抗震救灾，曾在鲁迅文学院第20届中青年作家高研班、河南省文学院首届作家研修班就读。

译者简介：
林巧儿，笔名 月芽儿，广州人，英文翻译。主要写作现代诗、格律诗词、文学评论，中英互译（诗歌、小说、文艺理论等）。诗、词、文学评论、英译作品发表在《人民日报》、《深圳日报》、《快乐英语报》、《诗选刊》、《诗潮》、《芒种》、《火花》、《中国金融文化》等国内外四十多种报刊。多次入围或者获得各类诗赛奖项，如第一届“杰博杯-魅力山城”全国诗赛，全民悦读会同主题诗赛，“沈北风”同主题诗赛，以及诗群联赛等，著有《月芽儿短诗选》（中英文），《岭南十女诗人》（中文合集）。

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