Niu Qingguo 牛庆国

• A Glimpse of Puxing Grade School  |  看了一回浦杏小学
• A Powerful Pen  |  如椽之笔
• The Old Donkey  |  毛驴老了

Zhang Fanxiu 张凡修

• The Spectacles  |  被看见
• A Train Comes through the Sorghum Field  |  火车开进高粱地
• Letter to My Son  |  与子书

Ren Xianqing 任先青

• The Wintry Mix  |  雨夹雪
• The Dream of Siberian Cockleburs  |  苍耳之梦
• I See Myself in the Chrysanthemum  |  从菊上看见自己

Sha Ma 沙马

• Aboard the Ship  |  上了船
• I Can't Dawdle on Like This  |  我不再这样耗下去
• At the Cafe of California Sunshine  |  在加州阳光咖啡馆里

Yan Meijiu 颜梅玖（玉上烟）

• Conversation with a Stranger  |  其实我们从未相逢
• Untitled  |  无题
• Five Glasses  |  五只玻璃杯

Yi Hu 亦乎

• Summer Days, 1 The Difficulty of Being Free of Thoughts  |  啥也不想真的是很难
• Summer Days, 2 The Horror of Perpetual Sunshine  |  天天阳光好其实是一种恐怖
• I Want to Lean Toward You  |  我想向你倾斜

Yang Kang 杨康

• Golden Rice  |  稻子黄了
• I Don't Like Windy Days  |  我不喜欢有风的日子
• Bliss  |  幸福

Meifu Wang 王美富

• Bird within the Range of an Arrow  |  惊弦之鸟
• Dirt Road  |  土路

From 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 4

• It stands there like a loose tooth
• peeking through a mountain gap.
• The broken glass has been patched up with a newspaper
• and I wonder if it‘s the Capital City Newspaper,
• and could my name be in it.

— Niu Qingguo, A Glimpse of Puxing Grade School

• Some hubbub is going on
• in the redwood forest by the cornfield.
• People file into the woods
• for the forester’s funeral.

— Zhang Fanxiu, The Spectacles

• Below the antiquated city wall,
• a Chrysanthemum is still open, all by itself,
• as if autumn has left us with an unspoken word.

— Ren Xianqing, I See Myself in the Chrysanthemum

• You are a romantic lady, sitting in California Sunshine
• and talking to me about birds, otters, giraffes,
• African zebra,
• their behaviors and habitats;
• it reminds me of Mr. Zhao’s TV show “Man and Nature”.

— Sha Ma, At the Café of California Sunshine

• The kungfu of being invisible was lost
• before the Song Dynasty, a modern scholar claims.
• The truth is that in our beautiful country
• there are still many who practice this art.

— Yan Meijiu, Seeing and Being Seen

• Today's sunshine is prettier than yesterday's,
• but there is something horrific about it.
• Yesterday, I lay down nude in the sun
• pondering how to compose a murder story,
• but today’s sunlight seems murderous
• for its own sake.
• It’s too bad
• if things continue this way
• without a drop of rain or a wisp of wind
• to stir my hair.

— Yi Hu, The Horror of Perpetual Sunshine

• The wind blows, sending the crickets up the rice stalks,
• flowering and ripening;
• in no time, the rice will be golden.
• Starting with a few stems,
• next, a few paddies, then, almost infectiously
• every single stalk in the valley will look shy,
• bending its head.

— Yang Kang, Golden Rice

• When I close my eyes, I hear footsteps—
• in groups of threes or fives, light and lively,
• a chorus of footsteps, like a song with wings
• that lifts me out of despair.
• I would listen to it in the morning.
• I would listen to it in the afternoon.

— Meifu Wang, Dirt Road