Chris Hynes
M.A.Sc.
PhD Candidate
Student Member of IEEE
School of Engineering Science
Faculty of Applied Science
Simon Fraser University
8888 University Drive
Burnaby, BC, V5A 1S6, Canada
Work desk location: ABS-10840
e-mail: c_h [at] sfu [dot] ca
Poetry of Xu Lizhi
I recently watched a play in the Push International Performing Arts Festival by Njo Kong Kie and set to the poetry of Xu Lizhi. I was touched by the poignant poetry by Xu Lizhi, who sadly committed suicide while working at Foxconn. I went to the Foxconn factory in Shenzhen a couple of times when I worked at Nokia. After watching the show, I hunted down some of his poems and reposted them below.
Rented Room
Xu Lizhi, (2 December 2013)
A space of ten square meters Cramped and damp, no sunlight all year Here I eat, sleep, shit, and think Cough, get headaches, grow old, get sick but still fail to die Under the dull yellow light again I stare blankly, chuckling like an idiot I pace back and forth, singing softly, reading, writing poems Every time I open the window or the wicker gate I seem like a dead man Slowly pushing open the lid of a coffin.
I Swallowed a Moon Made of Iron
Xu Lizhi, (19 December 2013)
I swallowed a moon made of iron They refer to it as a nail I swallowed this industrial sewage, these unemployment documents Youth stooped at machines die before their time I swallowed the hustle and the destitution Swallowed pedestrian bridges, life covered in rust I can't swallow any more All that I've swallowed is now gushing out of my throat Unfurling on the land of my ancestors Into a disgraceful poem.
My Life’s Journey is Still Far from Complete
Xu Lizhi, (13 July 2014)
This is something no one expected My life’s journey Is far from over But now it's stalled at the halfway mark It’s not as if similar difficulties Didn’t exist before But they didn’t come As suddenly As ferociously Repeatedly struggle But all is futile I want to stand up more than anyone else But my legs won’t cooperate My stomach won’t cooperate All the bones of my body won’t cooperate I can only lie flat In this darkness, sending out A silent distress signal, again and again Only to hear, again and again The echo of desperation.
The Last Graveyard
Xu Lizhi, (21 December 2011)
Even the machine is nodding off Sealed workshops store diseased iron Wages concealed behind curtains Like the love that young workers bury at the bottom of their hearts With no time for expression, emotion crumbles into dust They have stomachs forged of iron Full of thick acid, sulfuric and nitric Industry captures their tears before they have the chance to fall Time flows by, their heads lost in fog Output weighs down their age, pain works overtime day and night In their lives, dizziness before their time is latent The jig forces the skin to peel And while it's at it, plates on a layer of aluminum alloy Some still endure, while others are taken by illness I am dozing between them, guarding The last graveyard of our youth.
A Kind of Prophecy
Xu Lizhi, (18 June 2013)
Village elders say I resemble my grandfather in his youth I didn’t recognize it But listening to them time and again Won me over My grandfather and I share Facial expressions Temperaments, hobbies Almost as if we came from the same womb They nicknamed him “bamboo pole” And me, “clothes hanger” He often swallowed his feelings I'm often obsequious He liked guessing riddles I like premonitions In the autumn of 1943, the Japanese devils invaded and burned my grandfather alive at the age of 23. This year i turn 23.
A Screw Fell to the Ground
Xu Lizhi, (9 January 2014)
A screw fell to the ground In this dark night of overtime Plunging vertically, lightly clinking It won’t attract anyone’s attention Just like last time On a night like this When someone plunged to the ground
Conflict
Xu Lizhi, (7 June 2013)
They all say I'm a child of few words This I don't deny But actually Whether I speak or not With this society I'll still Conflict
I Fall Asleep, Just Standing Like That
Xu Lizhi, (20 August 2011)
The paper before my eyes fades yellow With a steel pen I chisel on it uneven black Full of working words Workshop, assembly line, machine, work card, overtime, wages... They've trained me to become docile Don't know how to shout or rebel How to complain or denounce Only how to silently suffer exhaustion When I first set foot in this place I hoped only for that grey pay slip on the tenth of each month To grant me some belated solace For this I had to grind away my corners, grind away my words Refuse to skip work, refuse sick leave, refuse leave for private reasons Refuse to be late, refuse to leave early By the assembly line I stood straight like iron, hands like flight, How many days, how many nights Did I - just like that - standing fall asleep?
On My Deathbed
Xu Lizhi, (30 Sept 2014)
I want to take another look at the ocean, behold the vastness of tears from half a lifetime I want to climb another mountain, try to call back the soul that I’ve lost I want to touch the sky, feel that blueness so light But I can’t do any of this, so I’m leaving this world Everyone who’s heard of me Shouldn’t be surprised at my leaving Even less should you sigh or grieve I was fine when I came, and fine when I left.
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