Chapter 10 Selected Poems of Ai Qing - Reed Flute

-------In memory of the late poet Apollinaire from your colored europa brought back a reed flute, i was by the ocean walking as if at home, now Your collection of poems "Alcool" is in a patrol room in Shanghai, I've "sinned" it's here The reed flute is also forbidden. I think of that reed flute, It is my fondest memory of Europa, Monsieur Apollinaire, you are not only a polish because of you In my eyes, It's really a story that spreads in Montmartre, that lengthy deceitful, The faded lips trembled by Marguerite The story of Viola spit out. who shouldn't head there

The territory of Briand and Biss spit scornful saliva --------- That eyes filled with greed, Europa of the vile thief! but, I love you Europa, Europa by Baudelaire and Lamb. there, i was hungry Blow the reed flute proudly, People laugh at my gestures, Because that is my posture! People don't like my songs, Because that's my song! get out You who sang the Marseillaise And now it's filthy Glorious victory stuff! Nowadays, I was in the Bastille, No, not the Bastille in Paris. The reed flute is not by my side, Iron chains are louder than my song, But I swear ------- to the reed flute,

For it is painfully humiliated, i will be like 1789 Stretch my hand into the burning flames! on the day it came out, will blow out to the world that has insulted it Song of the curse of destruction. And I'll lift it up high, With tragic Hymne send it to the sea, to the waves of the sea, rough hissing Waves of the sea! March 28, 1933