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Distinguished Prof. Dr. Yaw-chien Fang (born in 1958, Tainan, Taiwan) is a leading poet, writer, scholar, and editor in Taiwan. He obtained his Ph.D. degree in Taiwanese literature, National Cheng-kung University. Currently he is Distinguished Professor & Chair of Department of Taiwanese Languages & Literature, National Taichung University of Education, Taiwan. He has been the presidents, publishers, editors-in–chief of several important associations and magazines. He has published 13 books of poetry, and more than 100 literary treatises & articles. His poetry mainly reflects love among human beings and between husband & wife, Taiwanese spirit and history, and a perspective of universal and human existence as well. His poetry has been translated into English, Spanish, Chinese, Japanese, Turkish, Mongolian, Bengali, Telugu, Romanian, etc., and has had read in International Poetry Recitals in severals Countries around the world.
Pan-Tsi-Hue
In the nights in March
I mean to make you hear
Inside my body, the horn
Blowing out the heartfelt voice
Gentle but resolute
The golden will
Whirls by the wind
Though the head is falling onto the ground
The limbs are breaking apart
I shall not let any tears drop
From the deepest, deepest belly
Pain of voicelessness is practicing speaking out
Again and again
Again and again
I want to be named “Pan-Tsi-Hue”
My name is not “Mu-bian–hua”
In the days in March
I mean to make you see
Inside my body, the true statue of me
Sitting on the throne
Dignified and sturdy
The golden will
Shines like the sun
Though the head is falling onto the ground
The limbs are breaking apart
I shall not let any tears drop
With weak fingers
Pain of namelessness is practicing writing the name
Again and again
Again and again
I want to be named “Pan-Tsi-Hue”
My name is not “Mu-bian–hua”
Coming Back to Sakam
Coming to the gate of the Sakam Hall
The sea waves from more than three hundred years ago
Stand up and shout out on the inner sea shore of Taikang
Again and again, they bring out my old and fading memories
Open the long darkness
Borrow a slice of light
Piece together the broken fragments of my mother land
Originally it was a hill by the sea
At dawn hiding in the mist
At night drinking up the moonlight
Red-haired guys liked this lucky land
They built Fort Provintia on it
Koxinga’s army liked this lucky land too
They rebuilt it as Singthian capital
Qing military liked this lucky land too
They made it their own weapon storage
Xianfeng Emperor liked this lucky land too
They occupied it and built the Sea God Temple
Japanese army liked this lucky land too
They rebuilt it as their military hospital
Layer by layer the different bricks were
Layer by layer different dynasties
The mother land in the twentieth century, so post-modernistic
Sitting at the bottom of the valley three meters below, shouts painfully:
“Where are the warriors of Sakam?”
“Where are the spirits of Sakam?”
“Never mention the word Sakam to avoid racial disunion!”
“Never mention the spirits of Sakam to avoid Sakamchauvinism!”
Secretly, my tears drop on People Road
No Sakam people live in Sakam any more
“I’m the only Sakamese! I want to go into the SakamHall!”
“A Sakamese has to buy a ticket too.”
【Note】
Sakam, originally named Provintia, built in 1653, is a first-class historical site of Taiwan, meaning “eternity” in Dutch. Provintia and Anping Fort were both built by the Dutch. They are the most famous historical sites in Taiwan. Provintia was a hill located by the eastern shore of Taikang inner sea facing Anping Fort on the western shore at a distance. It was the residential place of Sakamof the Siraya tribes.
Eager for the South Wind to Blow
Every day for a hundred years and more
The north wind has made me up and rouged me
They say I look more literate this way
Japanese literature is my cream
Chinese literature is my toner
Western literature is my lotion
They are truly right. My body has
Charming cosmetic fragrance of Japan, China and the West
The most charming one is Taipei
The kimono, cheongsam and the western dresses
Walking ruthlessly and peerlessly
We—though children of the land
In plain shirts, plain pants and plain coats
Shy of showing people
I always secretly
Ask myself
How the voice of the land for thousands of years
Has become silent
How the milky fragrance of mother tongue
Has changed taste for hundreds of years
The north wind
Shouts no more
I only look forward
To the south wind
Sleeping with me
Singing with me
