The Cry of a Generation
ShuTing
Ido not complain
About my misfortune
Theloss of my youth,
Thedeforming of my soul.
Sleeplessnights without number
Have left me with bitter memories.
Ihave rejected all received truths,
Ihave broken free of all shackles,
Andall that remains of my heart
Is in ruins, as far as the eye can see…
Butstill, I have stood up!
Istand on the expanse of the horizon.
Neveragain will anyone, by any means,
Be able to push me down.
Ifit were me, lying in a martyr’s grave,
Greenmoss eating away the characters on my headstone;
Ifit were me, savoring the taste of life behind bars,
Debating points of law with my chains;
Ifit were me, my face haggard and pale,
Atoning for my crime with an eternity oflabor;
Ifit were me, it would be
My tragedy alone—
PerhapsI might already have forgiven
Perhapsmy grieving and my anger
Might already be at rest.
But,
Forthe sake of the fathers of the children,
Forthe sake of the children of the fathers,
Sothat we no longer need to tremble
At the unspoken reproaches
From beneath the gravestones everywhere;
Sothat we may no longer be faced
Wherever we turn
By the specter of the homeless;
Sothat innocent children
A hundred years from now
Need not guess at the history we leavebehind.
Forthis blank in our nation’s memory,
Forthe arduous path our race must travel,
Forthe purity of the skies
And the straightness of the road ahead—
IDemand The Truth!
1980
