Sea Change, Issue 8, 2019
Selections from the Angel Island Wall Poetry
Composed by Anonymous Detainees at a U.S. Immigration Station, And Translated from the Chinese by Jeffrey Thomas Leong
A NOTE FROM THE TRANSLATOR:
Between the years of 1910-1940, would-be immigrants from China to the United Stated carved over 200 original poems into the wooden walls of the Angel Island Immigration Station near San Francisco, California, expressing their deepest feelings of anger, outrage, boredom and loneliness over their incarceration. These working class poets chose to use traditional Tang-style Chinese poetic forms for their writing, literary skills acquired in grade school.
My 2018 collection Wild Geese Sorrow: The Chinese Wall Inscriptions at Angel Island, presents translations from this body of work, worthy of study for our contemporary debates on immigration policy. I’ve tried to reveal the emotional core of the poems and perhaps to reflect the sacrifice and suffering of immigrants and, for some, the deep sorrow of failed dreams.
I hope these poems provide insight into U.S. history, but most importantly, reflect upon that timeless story of peoples who must leave their homeland for a better life in an unfamiliar world.
MY PETITION DENIED ALREADY HALF A YEAR WITH NO FURTHER NEWS
My petition denied already half a year with no further news.
Who knew that today, I would be deported back
to Tang Mountain?
At mid-ship, I’ll suffer waves, and pearl-like tears will fall.
On a clear night, three times I’ll find the bitterness hard to bear.
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LEAVING BEHIND WIFE AND CHILD, I’VE EXPERIENCED HEAVY SEAS
Leaving behind wife and child,
I’ve experienced heavy seas.
Don’t know how much wind and frost I’ve endured.
Because my family was poor, I sought the precious
white jade.
Separated from relatives and friends,
I drifted about, 10,000 li.
It’s difficult to calculate suffering in one slice
of rain and snow,
All due to a purse empty of weighty green coin.
_____________________________________________________________________
CROSSING SONGS NO. 3
after T’ao Ch’ien
Boundless, across boundless, wave-driven miles,
white clad steel groaned against current.
In bitter fifth month fog, I arrived at a different place,
but now, they bid me depart.
Lazy wanderer, empty of speech, the village
home not near nor in sight.
Nothing but a wood house humped up and cold,
and wind moans without meaning.
The ferry will dock hard, edge me
towards heaven.
Once aboard that slow boat home, day won’t dawn
again for a thousand years.
Day won’t dawn again in a thousand years, and
of what use were all my careful lies?
Those here weeping, who wave farewell, they’ll earn
their prerequisites and land.
My own clan will grieve on, but others, with reason,
soon full of small song.
Once you’re dead and gone,
what then?
Trust yourself to the open sea,
it will take you in.
Contributor:
Jeffrey Thomas Leong is an American poet and writer. For two decades, he worked as a public health administrator and attorney for the City of San Francisco. He earned his MFA in Writing from the Vermont College of Fine Arts, and while there, began a project to translate the Chinese wall poems at the Angel Island Immigration Station. His book of translations, Wild Geese Sorrow, was published by Calypso Editions in 2018. Jeff’s new chapbook Writ from Eastwind Books of Berkeley fully imagines the Angel Island detainee experience. He lives with his wife and daughter near Oakland, CA.