The following is a poem translated from the Chinese and published in June Fourth Movement Twentieth Anniversary Memorial Booklet (edited by Brian Hansen & Jiang Pinchao, translated by Teresa Zimmerman-Liu). The Chinese original is found in the book June Fourth Poems, edited by Jiang Pinchao. It was written on June 6, 1989, by students who had escaped from Tiananmen Square on the night of June 4, 1989.
Elegy
By Lian Yang & Cheng Gu
You are dead, but a short time ago you
walked on the plaza under blue sky and
mothers pushing strollers called out to you,
saying how tall you had grown. You were watching
kites floating and dancing in the spring sky.
You are dead, but not long ago, we said
“Let’s go to the plaza to speak,” and with many others
we went to the woods beside the subway.
Not long ago, we shared a bowl of soup
and made instant noodles that we ate slowly.
Then in the rain, holding umbrellas and lanterns,
we went from tent to tent
but now you are dead.
The spotlight illuminated us suddenly,
pinning you to the brick pavement.
Your legs were broken, you crawled,
screaming as you were crushed beneath the steel tank treads.
I cannot forget the instant the guns sounded,
you looked up in surprise and your clapping hands
covered your chest as you all spurted blood.
You had been sitting on the ground
when they began firing guns at your faces.
Then the tanks rolled over your bodies and
your brains were splattered on the ground.
Bullets chased you, death-carts and helicopters chased you,
gasoline spurting flame-throwers chased you.
Your skin turned black and split open as it burned,
the wounded and the dead were burned together.
You are dead, and I cannot forget.
You were just a little younger than I,
you laughed like little children, I cannot forget you.
They killed you without warning,
just because you stood beside the road.
You saw the smoking gun muzzles, so your eyes became criminal.
You said, “Don’t kill anyone,” so your mouths became criminal.
You came out of your houses
to save bleeding persons, so your deeds became criminal.
Volley after volley of bullets
pounded your bodies into bloody masses.
The murderers kept shouting and shooting,
They fired on old people, who protected you in the streets.
They killed you, and they want to kill your classmates, siblings, and parents--
everyone who knew and loved you.
They want to kill all memories so
they cover your bodies with stinking lies.
They are corpse-eating maggots.
They thought by turning you into smoke
and washing away the blood, you would be gone forever,
forever unable to open your mouths,
unable to speak the terrible wrongs you suffered.
With you dead, they can say, “We are victorious.”
They think people can be exterminated, slaughtered,
they think death can hide their life of crime.
By Lian Yang & Cheng Gu
You are dead, but a short time ago you
walked on the plaza under blue sky and
mothers pushing strollers called out to you,
saying how tall you had grown. You were watching
kites floating and dancing in the spring sky.
You are dead, but not long ago, we said
“Let’s go to the plaza to speak,” and with many others
we went to the woods beside the subway.
Not long ago, we shared a bowl of soup
and made instant noodles that we ate slowly.
Then in the rain, holding umbrellas and lanterns,
we went from tent to tent
but now you are dead.
The spotlight illuminated us suddenly,
pinning you to the brick pavement.
Your legs were broken, you crawled,
screaming as you were crushed beneath the steel tank treads.
I cannot forget the instant the guns sounded,
you looked up in surprise and your clapping hands
covered your chest as you all spurted blood.
You had been sitting on the ground
when they began firing guns at your faces.
Then the tanks rolled over your bodies and
your brains were splattered on the ground.
Bullets chased you, death-carts and helicopters chased you,
gasoline spurting flame-throwers chased you.
Your skin turned black and split open as it burned,
the wounded and the dead were burned together.
You are dead, and I cannot forget.
You were just a little younger than I,
you laughed like little children, I cannot forget you.
They killed you without warning,
just because you stood beside the road.
You saw the smoking gun muzzles, so your eyes became criminal.
You said, “Don’t kill anyone,” so your mouths became criminal.
You came out of your houses
to save bleeding persons, so your deeds became criminal.
Volley after volley of bullets
pounded your bodies into bloody masses.
The murderers kept shouting and shooting,
They fired on old people, who protected you in the streets.
They killed you, and they want to kill your classmates, siblings, and parents--
everyone who knew and loved you.
They want to kill all memories so
they cover your bodies with stinking lies.
They are corpse-eating maggots.
They thought by turning you into smoke
and washing away the blood, you would be gone forever,
forever unable to open your mouths,
unable to speak the terrible wrongs you suffered.
With you dead, they can say, “We are victorious.”
They think people can be exterminated, slaughtered,
they think death can hide their life of crime.
We are living and we stand beside you.
They might kill us too, but they do not know
that we already died in our homes in China
the moment the guns sounded on the plaza.
We give our hearts to you, the dead,
so you can live again in us.
We want to lift our hands as you did
to complete your unaccomplished mission
Blood for blood, fire for fire.
June 6, 1989
They might kill us too, but they do not know
that we already died in our homes in China
the moment the guns sounded on the plaza.
We give our hearts to you, the dead,
so you can live again in us.
We want to lift our hands as you did
to complete your unaccomplished mission
Blood for blood, fire for fire.
June 6, 1989
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