Mu Ting, Real name: Yang Dongbiao. Pen name: Qiyue, Mu Mu, Mu Yi, etc. Member of China Writers Association, Executive member of Beijing Essays Association, Deputy secretary general of the Poetry Institute of China.
Mu Ting was born in 1967. He began to publish literary works in 1976. A lot of his literary works were published in newspapers, magazines, and other periodicals. His collected works include July, July & 3rd Season, Spring and other collection of poems, as well as collections of poems illustrated with pictures. As the editor-in-chief, he compiled several selected works of poems. He is a member of the judge panels for a series of major literary awards, such as Ai Qing Micro Poems Award, Hsu Chih-mo Poems Award, and Beijing Nationwide Reading Season. He is the author of poems collected in Chinese Poems & Paintings, which is part of the publishing project Beauty of China.
Only when entering the middle age
can I know missing
is a thing brought about in an instant
Father chose to talk to me in my dream
I called him in an open space
But, to my surprise, I couldn’t make a sound
Since then, I knew that paper money burned to ashes
can be used to buy wine for my father who lives in the other world
One glass of wine
is for my father missing me and my mother
Two glasses of wine
represent my father’s tears
attacking my face
Last night in my dream, I was still a child with a book-bag on my back.
I asked my father how to fill in the family background in the resume.
My father carefully wrote down on a piece of white paper the word – worker.
From then on, as long as I had to fill in a form,
I would write down this most glorious class with no hesitation.
Today, I have been thinking all morning about how many forms did I fill in to indicate my family background
since I was in school?
That is to say, how many times did I write about ‘worker’?
I skillfully put a very large class in China into a very small square with only several strokes.
So that’s why my calligraphy teacher often praised me for the writing of the word ‘worker’.
I forgot when resume did not have family background again.
I lost for a long time, just like I lost some treasures.
Did the little square get lost?
From then on, I began to miss the time when I went to the factory with my father on vacation.
At that time, I always met many uncles and aunts, who always gave me a lot of delicious foods.
So the word ‘worker’ in my memory is a few preserved plums, a few loquats, a handful of peanuts, a meat zongzi just out of the pot, a lot of simplicity and love.
Even when I reached middle age, what I couldn’t forget is not a few strokes, not a small square, but a great thing.