Cao Xiaohang (Poetic cycle)
Moderator 
Cao Xiaohang
About Author: Cao Xiaohang, a member of the Shanghai Writers’ Association and part-time professor at Shanghai University. Her poetry has been published in magazines such as Poetry Journal, Poetry Exploration, and Caotang. She has publicly published poetry collection "One Meter Away", documentary work "Crazy New Aristocracy", novellas "Death of the Prosecutor", "Little Nanny in the Prosecutor's Home", and so on.
MAGIC HAT
They gave me a big hat,
Made me wear it walking every day.
The hat covered my eyes.
I can't see my own face
Nor their expressions.
The hat hooked under my nose,
I couldn't breathe.
I tried to cry for help
But the hat closed my mouth.
I don't know who made the hat
In that time when hats flew everywhere
Masking the face, controlling the Monkey King
Like a clown face in ancient opera.
A monkey bathes and makes a crown,
A hero becomes the opera's villain.
Some men are crushed by their hats,
Some sleep their lives in their hats' embrace.
A gale blew away our hats
Revealed everyone's true form.
In fact, some people had no head, no face.
Horrible hat!
I crushed my hat,
Laid bare my white curls.
Many people see only their hats,
Make others tie them on.
See, the people still flee in panic
Under the spell grabbing others' hats
Unaware that Dante's eyes are on their heads.
( Tr. by Thomas Blackadar & Melissa Li )
AUTUMN’S HALF FACE
Coffee's hot, vagabonds listen to songs outside.
Their stolen voices mix with the exciting night.
My autumn was also stolen.
Woven from that story- its whisper.
Doomed to parch in the wind.
You see the pomelos hanging like a yellow breast
Seducing us to borrow spring's seeds.
Wild foxes steal by. Plundering birds
Feed on summer's rice paddy,
The scarecrows shed tears.
Men offering tribute on the roof
Urge me raise two hands in surrender, abandon coat and conscience.
Take it, I am naked like a stone in the wind.
The winding river in your palm
Enslaves me, that too is your fruit.
Take it away. Your fingers part before a hidden cloud
Betraying the dawn.
( Tr. by Thomas Blackadar & Melissa Li )
ANCIENT CHINESE LANE
In ink and wash
The gaze hurls into void-
Night’s shadows carve themselves in reliefs
A half-ruined wall sketches a doorframe
Leaving history an escape route
Leaning on Ming-Qing bricks,
Reeds stand tall, breathing strength through mist
Yet vision blurs
Unaware what truth is weaving-
In a breath, forging a new dynasty, aging a bowl of tea
Fishing up the past with black and white-
The inkstone cries in burnt-black veins
（Tr. by Jian Jian & Melissa Li）
Prepared for publication by Anna Keiko
