The Cry of a Generation by Shu Ting

Poem originally composed in 1980, and translated by Richard King for Renditions in 1998.  The poetry of Shu Ting first appeared in underground publications in China in the years following the hardships of the Cultural Revolution.

I do not complain 
about my misfortune –
The loss of my youth,
The deforming of my soul.
Sleepless nights without number
have left me with bitter memories.
I have rejected all received truths,
I have broken free of all shackles,
And all that remains of my heart
is in ruins, as far as the eye can see . . .
But still, I have stood up!
I stand on the expanse of the horizon.
Never again will anyone, by any means,
be able to push me down.

If it were me, lying in a martyr's grave,
green moss eating away the characters on my headstone;
If it were me, savouring the taste of life behind bars,
    debating points of law with my chains;
If it were me, my face haggard and pale,
    atoning for my crimes with an eternity of labour;
If it were me, it would be
    my tragedy alone –
Perhaps I might already have forgiven
Perhaps my grieving and my anger 
    might already be at rest.

But,
For the sake of the fathers of the children,
For the sake of the children of the fathers,
So that we no longer need to tremble 
    at the unspoken reproaches
    from beneath the gravestones everywhere;
So that we may no longer be faced
    wherever we turn
    by the spectre of the homeless;
So that innocent children
    a hundred years from now
    need not guess at the history we leave behind.
For this blank in our nation's memory,
For the arduous path our race must travel,
For the purity of the skies
    and the straightness of the road ahead –
I Demand The Truth!