Jidi Majia, jedna od najreprezentativnijih savremenih kineskih pjesnika, sa velikim međunarodnim uticajem. Njagove pjesme su prevedene na približno četrdeset jezika, uvrštene u osamdeset i više antologija i objavljene u desetinama zemalja. Trenutno je potpretsjednik i član Sekretarijata kineskog udruženja pisaca.
Dobitnik je brojnih nagrada i priznanja u Narodnoj Republici Kini, kao i Homerove evropske medalje za poeziju i umjetnost 2016, Nagrada za poeziju koju dodeljuje rumunski časopis The Contemporari People and Bucharest Vriters Association, Nagrada gradskog pjesništva Bukurešta, Кlemens Janicki International Poljska nagrada, Nagrada za životno djelo Silver Villov na festivalu poezije i umjetnosti Cambridge Кsu Zhimo na Кing's College-u Univerziteta u Cambridgeu, Poljska nagrada za ekspresionizam Tadeusz Michinski iz Phoenik-a, medalja Zigmunta Кrasinski.
Jidi Majia je osnovo Međunarodni festival poezije Кinghai Lake, Međunarodni forum za kamp pjesnika Кinghai, Međunarodnu nedjelju poezije Liangshan Кsichang Кionghai i Međunarodnu nedjelju poezije Chengdu.
Ko je brži, mi ili smrt
(Svima koji su 2020. pobijedili COVID-19)
Smrt je brža od nas,
jer nas je iznenadila
i počela da trči pred startnim pištoljem.
Smrt! Ovaj put djeluje brže,
ali da li zaista može biti Stvoriteljev
najnoviji izum?
Ili je ovo težak test
sa kojim se čovječanstvo danas mora hrabro suočiti?
Smrt ne nosi masku,
i ovaj put može nestati u vazduhu.
Smrt je brža od nas,
i prije nego što su statistike izašle
na djelu je njegova zla ruka
na njegove proklete dodatke!
Brojevi mrtvih se i dalje povećavaju,
kao i sada nadamo se samo oduzimanjima!
Smrt je putovala daleko,
ubijala stare, mlade, povrijeđene,
našu djecu,
pustošila gradove, ulice i parkove,
gdje god stigne, ubija crno gvožđe.
Smrt je brža od nas,
jer nas je iznenadila
i počela da trči pred uperenim pištoljem.
I tako je i ovo vrijeme prošlo!
Takmičimo se sa Smrću, i sada nesumnjivo
to je takmičenje za život i smrt.
Ko će izaći kao pobjednik, tek treba da se vidi.
Uvrstimo ljubav u našu svakodnevnu praksu,
i pošaljimo je u svaki ćošak, u ime čovječanstva.
Sakupimo odlučnost hiljada ljudi
u jednu veliku životnu silu i od kupole gore
ispratimo svjetlost mlađu od drevnog sunca.
Otvorimo sve prozore i pošaljimo svoje snove u zvijezde
i opet podigni nebo plavo poput vodopada.
Kažete da je smrt brža od nas, ali ne!
Ne vjerujem! Jer vidim
da se udaljenost između nas i Smrti smanjuje.
Molimo vas da verujete da ćemo stvoriti novi rekord u ovoj trci,
očima cijelog svijeta koji gledaju!
Naša brzina se povećava za sekunde i minute,
zajedno sa brzinom naših vođa - i to od prvog trenutka
širio se taj nepokolebljiv, samouvjeren i moćan glas
preko zemlje, šuma, neba i okeana,
stvarajući vodeću brzinu koja će uvijek biti ispred.
Ovo je brzina ljudi, bilo u gradu ili na selu,
i svaki građanin će se boriti u ovoj bitci bez pušaka,
dok posao obavlja neko neustrašiv.
Ovo je brzina sistema, požuri u pomoć sa komandama
koje je poslala vojsku junaka muškaraca i žena u Vuhanu.
Ovo je brzina kolektiva, uskosti i sebičnosti individualizma
ovdje nema mesta, jer surova stvarnost
kaže nam, svaki pojedinačni život zavisi od drugih.
Ovo je posvećenosti koje nema u deklaracijama,
ali u porodicama koje nestrpljivo čekaju svoj oporavak,
i njihova svakodnevna borba sa Smrću je žestoka.
Kad jagodične kosti jauču i utihnu, život i smrt su tanji od papira,
i to postaje bojno polje, gdje se ne može odustati od naleta,
jer ono za šta se oni i Smrt bore je jedan život za drugim.
Ne vjerujem u Boga, ali verujem da među nama postoje anđeli.
Juče je jedna plakala spašavajući drugi život,
pa čak i i kroz njeno hermetičko zaštitno odijelom, mogao sam da vidim
ako joj suze teku iz velikih očiju.
Da, ispred televizije gledali smo bezbroj takvih očiju
iza štitnika za lice, i iako ne znamo njihova imena,
možemo biti sigurni da ćemo videti u svakom paru očiju
beskrajnu nadu i budućnost.
Ovo je brzina života, od opštinskih specijalista za zarazne bolesti
redovnih medicinskih sestara, od gradske uprave do svakog
komunalnog radnika koji se još uvijek pojavljuje u zoru da očisti lice grada.
Njihovo poštovanje prema životu ogleda se u svakom poslu,
i zahvaljujući samo njihovim naporima možemo da održimo smirenost i staloženost.
Ovo je brzina nacije, ili bi se trebalo reći brzina Kine -
izgradnja planine Mt. Huoshan i Mt. Leishenshan bolnice
nije bila naređena od planinskih bogova i brzina njihove izgradnje
nesumnjivo izazvalo divljenje i čuđenje.
Te toranjske dizalice nijesu maske od gvožđa, već ljudske kičme,
dok čvrsto udaraju nokte nade u prazninu.
Ovo nije iluzija, to je neupitna stvarnost.
Njihova konstrukcija bila je poput plesa na ivici smrti noža.
Na televiziji sam vidio ruke jednog od radnika i činilo se da postaju veće,
dok je zglob gdje se nebo susreće sa zemljom ispuštao nisku notu kosti.
Tako da mogu da potvrdim da postoji mnogo tako hrabrih vrijednih ruku,
i naša sreća, sudbina i mir neće biti u tuđim rukama -
te ruke kineskog radnika, a ne ruke Isusa Hrista ili Bude ili Alaha,
grube su i tamne, ali pune samopouzdanja.
U smrtnoj smo trci sa Smrću,
još jedan sinonim za virus.
U još nepoznato vrijeme, hrabro ga uništimo,
ne grubošću ili brzopletošću, već racionalnošću i naukom.
Odvojimo naše vazdušne struje, nevidljive pare,
ali ne dozvolimo da iša utiče na toplinu i udobnost među nama.
U trci sa Smrću postoji vođa, ali progonitelj može postati predvodnik.
U trci sa Smrću nema gledalaca, svi smo učesnici.
To nije Rubikova kocka u dečijoj ruci, u današnjoj Kini
svaka ulica je ratni rov, svaki dom tvrđava.
Oh, ova promjenljiva bolest, ova nevidljiva smrt!
Vi ste komšija čovječanstva, sjenka sjenki, koja prati život.
Niko nam ne može reći koliko dugo postojimo.
Kad se probudite iz sna, crvena koplja katastrofe zabiće vam se u rebra.
Nevidljivim bodežom pokrenuli ste napad na najslabije područje ljudi.
Oh, Smrti bez maske, ovog puta ponovo koristiš svoju nevidljivost
da uđeš u naše bespomoćne domove.
Naša borba je već započela i znam da je to i odbrambena i ofanzivna bitka.
U našim laboratorijama, naši najbolji vojnici idu vam pravo u srce,
i naći će oružje koje vas može ubiti.
Za nas ostale, crveni signal se širi u našoj odbrambenoj liniji
već su nebrojeno puta osvetljavali kineske gradove i mjesta.
Oh, ovo su prvi borci u narodnom ratu
borilo se 1,4 milijarde ljudi.
Moramo istrajati, jer je smrt već zamorna.
Imajmo strpljenja! Budimo jaki! Tek tada možemo pobijediti neprijatelja!
Kina u svijetu, svijet u Kini,
kada se borite da dišete, zemaljska druga polovina
osjeća da joj lice pocrveni. Postoji neka vrsta bitke koja nema nikakve veze
sa drevnom religijom, nema nikakve veze sa međunarodnim sukobima ili politikom.
Oh, svijete! Danas se Kina suočava sa borbom
da zaštiti dobrobit čovječanstva; rotirajuća zemlja
je jedna porodica, a kada dođe katastrofa, nema prolaznika.
Svaka čast razumevanju, pomoć ili moralnu podršku
daće izvor velike moći onima kojima je potrebno.
Oh, svijete! Kina je uvijek bila dio tebe,
ona učestvuje u vašoj patnji i nikada nije odbila odgovornost.
Drevni narodi Istoka i njihova žilavost, iskrenost i pristojnost
su uvijek davali mudrost i kreativnost svim kulturama.
Oh, Kina! Nikada niieste koristili svoju odgovornost i obaveze kao značku,
ali da zaštitite mir u svijetu, vaše žrtve, čuvari i vojnici,
a na njihovim plavim zaštitnim kacigama rađaju se golubovi vječni.
Kada je teror od ebole okružio Afriku,
idoli su vijest o smrti prenijeli brže od gazele.
U Republici Gvineji, Liberiji, Sijera Leoneu,
više od stotinu kineskih medicinskih timova se pridružilo borbi,
i radeći zajedno sa lokalnim stanovništvom, zaustavili su širenje epidemije.
Uprkos velikoj udaljenosti, afrički bubanj je pozvao Kinu!
Pružili smo žute ruke za pomoć našoj afričkoj braći,
i vjerujte da u najgorim vremenima nikada nećemo manje misliti na vas.
Ovo je naša praksa internacionalizma i naša humanitarnost.
Nema boju, ali kada je prisutna, postoji boja sunca
i boja neba, zemlje i okeana,
boja krvi, boja suza, boja ljudskog duha.
Oh, svijete! Pridruži se kineskoj borbi već danas
da bi uuništila virus, kineska bitka je svjetska bitka!
Brojevi se i dalje povećavaju i nijesu samo hladni brojevi,
kako svaki broj iza sebe ima život.
Možda se panika neće proširiti među nama,
ili ćete se možda naći u panici u privremenoj nemoći.
O, prijatelji, drugovi, morate vjerovati u našu kolektivnu moć,
ali moramo se sjetiti i svoje individualne odgovornosti.
Oh, Smrt! Ukrcava se u avione, ukrcava se na brze vozove,
ukrcava se u sve vrste vozila, ali prijatelji -
da li ste shvatili? - Smrt nas često prati.
Ne dajte joj priliku! Nosite svoje maske,
kao jedan vojnik koji započinje napad, ličnu bitku,
i to tek kad su svi postali vojnici
hoćemo li konačno imati magično oružje za pobjedu Smrti.
Blokiraj je! Udari je koliko možeš! Ne daj joj da diše,
ne daj joj priliku da napadne naše lobanje ili ruke,
dok traži sitne otvore na kojima smo postavili stražu.
O, prijatelji, drugovi, ako se otvori,
naše gubitke će biti teško izmjeriti,
i još života će biti povučeno u orbitu Smrti,
a oni koje volimo biće nam zauvijek oduzeti.
Danas Duh smrti još uvijek putuje zemljom,
koristeći svoju nevidljivu glavu da udara o svaki prozor,
njegova usta proizvode zvukove koji se mogu čuti samo u drugom svijetu.
Kidnapuje vazduh, manipuliše materijom, uvlači se u gomilu,
i drži ključ od pakla. On je nesumnjivo
glasnik iz donjeg svijeta, parazit koji uništava život.
Smrt je pratila ljude kroz istoriju.
To je činjenica, nepromenljiva logika.
Ali, smrti! Ovaj put vaš iznenadni napad na čovječanstvo
je izbezumljeniji nego ikada ranije, odsijecajući živote usred znoja.
Razbijaš porodice, rastavljaš voljene, držiš one koji bi trebalo da idu kući.
Oh, Smrti! Bez obzira gdje se nalaziš,
moramo skupiti snage i ponovo te pobijediti!
Ko je brži, mi ili Smrt?
Iako je počela da trči prije startnog topa -
vidiš li? —možemo jasno vidjeti
kad slobodni vjetar šušti crvenim rtom junaka, kad sunčeve
strelice probijaju mračne litice, kada se tečnost svjetlosti vrati u univerzum
i izbjegne potez zemlje, kada ženske materice ponovo zatrudne zemlju,
jezik biljaka postaje trostruki sjaj krijesnica,
kada sve životinjske oči mogu sastaviti višedimenzionalne filozofije,
u grudima svake osobe će niknuti stabljika spasonosne heljde.
Kada svi postanemo drugi, kada svi obratimo pažnju na najmanji život,
iza glasa svake osobe biće glas zajednice i iz glasa jedne osobe
čućemo bezbrojne glasove.
Da, jasno vidim, našu trku sa smrću
stići ćemo do posljednjeg sprinta, i prestići ćemo Smrt.
Ovo je najteži trenutak, a onaj ko istraje biće heroj.
Vjerujte! Mi ćemo pobijediti! Kina će pobijediti! Čovječanstvo će pobijediti!
Već smo počeli da pretičemo Smrt!
1-2. februara 2020.
Jidi Majia
Jidi Majia, one of the most representative contemporary Chinese poets, is a poet of extensive international influence. His poems have been translated into approximately forty languages, filed into eighty plus poem selections and published in tens of countries. He is currently vice-president and member of the Secretariat of China Writers Association.
His works include poem selections The Song of My First Love, Eagle’s Wings and the Sun, Identity, Flame and Words, I, Snow Leopard…, From Snow Leopard to Mayakovsky, Twenty Sonnets to Mum, Poems of Jidi Majia, Long River, etc.
He was awarded the Best Poetry Anthology Award in the 3rd China National Prize for Poetry, Honorary Award of Guo Moruo Literature Prize, Zhuang Zhongwen Literature Prize, Sholokhov Memorial Medal for Literature, Honorary Award of Rou Gang Literature Prize, Gold Award for Master Soul of Chinese Poetry awarded by the 16th International Chinese Poets Pen, Mkhiva Humanitarian Award of South Africa, Homer European Medal of Poetry and Art 2016, Prize for Poetry awarded by Romanian magazine The Contemporary People and Bucharest Writers Association, Bucharest City Poetry Award, Klemens Janicki International Prize of Poland, Silver Willow Lifetime Achievement Award at the Cambridge Xu Zhimo Poetry and Art Festival at King’s College of Cambridge University, Tadeusz Michiński Expressionism Phoenix Award of Poland, Zygmunta Krasiński Medal.
Jidi Majia founded Qinghai Lake International Poetry Festival, Qinghai International Poets Tent Roundtable Forum, Liangshan Xichang Qionghai International Poetry Week and Chengdu International Poetry Week.
Who Is Faster, Us or Death
To all who beat against COVID-19 in 2020
Death is faster than us,
because he took us by surprise
and began to run before the starting gun.
Death! This time he seems faster,
but can he really be the Creator’s
most recent creation?
Or is this a severe test
that humankind must bravely face today?
Death doesn’t wear an obvious mask,
and this time he can disappear into thin air.
Death is faster than us,
and before the statistics even came out
his evil hand was at work
at his accursed additions!
Death’s numbers are still increasing,
as now we hope only for subtractions!
Death has traveled far,
killing the elderly, the young, the injured,
our vulnerable children,
ravaging the cities, streets, and parks,
everywhere he goes, he beats black iron.
Death is faster than us,
because he took us by surprise
and began to run before the starting gun.
And so this time is just like the last time!
We are competing with Death, and now undoubtedly
it is a life and death competition.
Who will come out victorious has yet to be decided.
Let us knit love into our daily practice,
and send it out to every corner, in the name of humanity.
Let us collect the determination of thousands of people
into a single great life force, and from the dome above
send out a light younger than the ancient sun.
Let us open all the windows and snip our dreams into stars
and again lift up a sky as blue as a waterfall.
You say Death is faster than us, but no!
I don’t believe it! Because I can see
that the distance between us and Death is reducing.
Please believe that we will create a new record in this race,
with the eyes of whole world looking on!
Our speed is building by seconds and minutes,
along with the speed of our leaders—and from the first moment
that steadfast, confident, and powerful voice spread
across the nation’s land, forests, sky, and oceans,
producing a frontrunner of speed that will always be ahead.
This is the speed of the people, whether in the city or the countryside,
and every citizen will fight in this fight without gun smoke,
while every job is held by someone fearless.
This is the speed of the system, rushing to the rescue with commands
that sent an army of countless heroic men and women to Wuhan.
This is the speed of the collective, and the narrowness and selfishness of individualism
has no place here, because the harsh reality
tells us, every single life depends on others for survival.
This is the speed of devotion, a devotion that isn’t in declarations,
but in families anxiously waiting for their safe return,
and their daily struggle with Death is fierce.
When the cheekbones groan and fall silent, life and death are thinner than paper,
and that becomes the battlefield, where one cannot let up the charge,
as what they and Death vie for is one vibrant life after another.
I do not believe in God, but I believe there are angels among us.
Yesterday one cried as she saved another life,
and even with her airtight protective suit, I could see
the tears streaming from her big eyes.
Yes, in front of the television, we watched countless such eyes
behind face shields, and although we don’t know their names,
we can be sure that we will see in each pair of eyes
a people’s infinite hope and future.
This is the speed of life, from the county’s infectious disease specialists
to regular nurses, from city management to every
sanitation worker who still appears at dawn to scrub the face of the city.
Their respect for life is reflected in every job,
and thanks only to their efforts can we maintain our calm and composure.
This is the nation’s speed, or one should say China’s speed—
the construction of the Mt. Huoshan and Mt. Leishenshan hospitals
wasn’t gifted by the mountain gods, and the speed of their construction
undoubtedly aroused admiration and wonder.
Those tower cranes aren’t masks of iron, but people’s spines,
as they pound nails of hope firmly into the void.
This isn’t an illusion, it is the unquestionable reality.
Their construction was like dancing on a knife’s edge of death.
On TV I saw the hands of one of the workers and they seemed to be growing bigger,
while the joint where the sky meets the earth let out the low note of a shinbone.
So I can affirm that there are many such brave hardworking hands,
and our happiness, fate, and peace will not be held in anyone else’s hands—
those hands, not the hands of Jesus Christ or the Buddha or Allah,
but the hands of a Chinese laborer, coarse and dark, but full of confidence.
We are in a deadly race with Death,
another synonym for the virus.
In a yet unknown time, let us bravely destroy him,
not with crudeness or rashness, but with extraordinary rationality and science.
Let us separate our air currents, the invisible vapors,
but not let it influence the warmth and comfort between us.
In the race with Death, there is a frontrunner, but a pursuer can become a frontrunner.
In the race with Death, there are no spectators, we are all participants.
It is not a Rubik’s cube in a child’s hand, in today’s China
every street is a wartime trench, every home a fortress.
Oh, this changing disease, this invisible Death!
You are humanity’s neighbor, the shadows’ shadow, tailing life.
No one can tell us how long you have existed.
When you revived from your sleep, the red spears of disaster stabbed into ribs.
With an invisible dagger you launched your attack on people’s weakest area.
Oh, maskless Death, this time you once again use your invisibility
to enter our defenseless, free homes.
Our fight has already begun, and I know it is both a defensive and offensive battle.
In our laboratories, our finest soldiers are going straight to your heart,
and they will find a weapon that can kill you.
For the rest of us, the red signal flares of our frontline defenses
have already lit up Chinese cities, towns, and schools countless times.
Oh, these are the first parries in a people’s war
fought by 1.4 billion people.
We must persist, because Death is already wearying.
Have patience! Be strong! Only then can we defeat our enemy!
China in the world, the world in China,
when you struggle to breathe, the earth’s other half
feels its face turn red as well. There is a sort of battle that has nothing to do
with ancient religion, nothing to do with international conflicts or politics.
Oh, world! Today China is facing a fight
to protect the welfare of humanity; the rotating earth
is one family, and when disaster comes, there are no bystanders.
Every bit of understanding, help, or even moral support
will give those in need a source of great power.
Oh, world! China has always been a part of you,
she shares in your suffering, and has never refused responsibility for you.
The ancient peoples of the East and their tenaciousness, sincerity, and decency
have always given wisdom and creativity to all cultures.
Oh, China! You have never used your responsibility and undertakings as a badge,
but to protect world peace, your sacrifice guards and soldiers,
and on their blue safety helmets are born everlasting doves.
When the terror of Ebola surrounded Africa, ebony
idols transmitted the news of death faster than a gazelle.
In the Republic of Guinea, Liberia, Sierra Leone,
more than a hundred Chinese medical teams joined the fight,
and working alongside locals, they stopped the spread of the epidemic.
Despite the great distance, Africa’s drumbeat called to China!
We extended our yellow helping hands to our African brothers,
and trust that in the worst of times, we will never think less of you.
This is our practice of internationalism, and our humanitarianism.
It has no color, but when it’s present, there is the color of sunshine
and the color of the sky, and of the earth and oceans,
the color of blood, the color of tears, the color of the human spirit.
Oh, world! Join China’s fight today
to beat back the virus, China’s battle is the world’s battle!
The numbers are still increasing, and they are not just cold numbers,
as each number has a life behind it.
Perhaps the panic will not spread among us,
or perhaps you will find yourself panicked in temporary helplessness.
Oh, friends, comrades, you must believe in our collective power,
but we must also remember our individual responsibility.
Oh, Death! He boards airplanes, boards high speed trains,
boards all kinds of vehicles, but friends—
have you realized?—Death is often following us.
Don’t give him an opportunity! Wear your masks,
as a single soldier launching an attack, a personal battle,
and only when everyone has become a soldier
will we finally have the magic weapon to defeat Death.
Block him! Hit him as hard as you can! Don’t let him breathe,
don’t give him a chance to attack our skulls or arms,
as he looks for tiny openings where we let down our guard.
Oh, friends, comrades, if there is an opening,
our losses will be hard to measure,
and more lives will be pulled into Death’s orbit,
and those we love will be taken from us forever.
Today Death’s spirit still travels the earth,
using his invisible head to beat against every window,
his mouth making sounds that can only be heard in another world.
He kidnaps the air, manipulates matter, cons his way into the crowd,
and on every part of us that can be touched he conceals
key after key to hell. He is unquestionably
a messenger from the netherworld, a parasite that destroys life.
Death has accompanied humans through thousands of years of history.
It is a natural fact, an unchanging logic.
But, Death! This time your surprise attack on humanity
is more frenzied than ever before, cutting off lives amid the sweat.
You break apart families, rip loved ones apart, keep those who should go home
from ever going back again. Oh, Death! No matter where you are,
we must gather our strength and beat you back together!
Who is faster, us or Death?
Although he began to run before the starting gun—
do you see?—we can clearly see
when the free wind rustles the red cape of heroes, when the sun’s
arrows pierce the dark cliffs, when light’s liquid reflects back to the universe
and escapes the pull of the earth, when women’s wombs conceive the earth again,
the language of plants becomes triple the glow of fireflies,
when all the animals’ eyes can compose multi-dimensional philosophies,
in every person’s chest a stalk of lifesaving buckwheat will sprout.
When we each become the other, when we all pay attention to the smallest life,
behind every person’s voice will be the community’s voice, and from one person’s voice
we will hear the voices of the countless many.
Yes, I can distinctly see, our race with Death
has reached the final sprint, and we are about to overtake Death.
This is the hardest moment, and the one who persists will be the hero.
Believe this! We will win! China will win! Humanity will win!
We have already begun to overtake Death!
February 1-2, 2020
