编注：清明节终于来临。今年的清明，最让人怀念的是我们在疫情期间失去的亲人和朋友，还有，就是那些因抗疫而倒下的医护人员。被誉为逆行者的他们，冲在最前面，为我们筑起第一道保护屏障，并因此付出了生命，让人心痛不已。本刊特以中英文发表长诗一首，以寄托我们清明时节的思念之情。作品经作者授权由本刊全球首发。
Editor’s Note: Qingming, aka Chinese Memorial Day or Tomb-Sweeping Day, April 4th for 2020 AD, is traditionally the day of remembrance for ancestors and beloved ones passed away. This year, we would like to honor in particular those medical professionals, who lost their lives fighting against the Coronavirus for the rest of us. It is said that the best way to cope with grief and uncertainty is to express your feelings. This poem, in English below, is a rolling tribute to those who died to save others’ futures, a dirge we share for them and those who lost their lives in this Covid-19 pandemic.
清明时节，我们怀念您
作者｜ 严春芳
光明使者
李文亮
梅仲明
朱和平
白衣天使
彭银华
刘智明
江学庆
援鄂战士
王烁医生
在这个特别的清明
我们无比怀念您
那天
是2月7日
凌晨2点58分
李文亮医生
您走了
1500万武汉人
14亿华夏同胞
九百六十万平方公里土地
为您点亮了一排长长的路灯
通向天堂之门
那天
2月18日
上午10点30分
刘智明院长
您走了
您没留下最后的遗言
你生前说的最多的是＂不要⋯⋯＂
＂不要⋯⋯＂
对妻子反复的嘱咐叮咛
＂不要等我吃晚饭
我还在门诊
看完这几个病人＂
＂不要等我睡觉
我还在病房
与同事讨论几例病情＂
您不要同在前线的妻子陪护
您不要插管抢救自己的生命
把插管留给更需要的人
那天
是2月20日
晚上9点50分
彭银华医生
您走了
那么年轻
还没举行婚礼
您已经成为丈夫
只是婚礼没有举行
锁在抽屉里的请柬
再也没发出去
那张结婚照
成为您与妻子
最后的合影
那天
是3月1日
凌晨5点32分
暖医江学庆
您走了
享年只有55岁
春风里
再也不见您高大的身影
阳光下
再也不见您忙碌的足印
病房中
再也听不见您60分贝的声音
再也看不到
再也听不清
您走了 走了
与病毒一起化为灰烬
那天
是3月3日午时
梅仲明医生
您走了
那颗慈善的心跳
在波动不舍中戛然骤停
年仅57岁
还没到退休享福的年龄
还有多少病友
等您治疗眼部疾病
您的父母妻儿
还在等您团聚
拉拉家常、叙叙旧情
那天
是3月9日
上午九时
朱和平医生
您走了
您本已退休
一个幸福的晚年
没来得及安享
您是一头老黄牛
却倒在您耕耘的光明的田野间
那天
3月13日晩上11时
广东援鄂医生
年仅36岁的王烁
您也走了
在那个漆黑的夜晚
闪烁着鬼火般的路灯
一辆肇事的面包车
在马路上急驶狂奔
您刚刚还在社区检查疫情
却没躲过那飙飞的车身
图片来源：南方人物周刊，作者：何籽
李文亮医生
您说过
自己没想过当英雄
但也绝不会当逃兵
您在疫场上冲锋陷阵
直至病毒夺走您年轻的生命
历史将永远铭记
敢说真话的李文亮医生
人民永远怀念
在江城吹着口哨的白衣英雄
刘智明院长
新冠病毒
要了您不屈的性命
要不走您不朽的灵魂
您不要这，不要那
您要的是医生的职责
您要的是神圣的使命
彭银华医生
您是一位丈夫
也是一位称职的大夫
更是一位顶天立地的大丈夫
您举行葬礼的那一天
同时步入婚礼的殿堂
暖医江学庆
我听见
您无数病友
数说您崇高的医德
掰着指头
一件件，如数家珍
您视病友为亲人
那柔和的＂六十分贝＂
字字句句温暖人心
您那把尖利的手术刀
切下了多少甲状乳腺囊肿
把青春与健康还给病人
换救了多少年轻的
年老的生命
您把时间献给了事业
却没空陪伴您的亲人
来不及多抱抱
您刚满两岁的外孙
在您的墓碑上
要刻上
中国医师奖获得者
60分贝暖医
声音特别好听
梅仲明医生
您给无数患者带来光明
却永远闭上了自己的眼睛
您是光明的使者
却偏偏在另一个黑暗世界前行
朱和平医生
您守护着别人的眼睛
却葬送了自己的梦想
一所百年的中心医院啊
我听见所有的同事
为您的离世
一路哭丧
王烁医生
您千里逆行
告别自己的亲人
您捧着薪火而来
温暖荆楚众生
您没被病毒击倒
却遭遇了意外车祸
多么惨痛
多么不幸
您为了湖北人民
献出了宝贵生命
李文亮走了
我悲痛
刘明智走了
我哀伤
彭银华走了
我哭泣
江学庆走了
我心酸
梅仲明走了
我流泪
梅仲明走了
我失眠
王烁走了
我心碎
还有三千多名
各阶层的人们
被一个小小的病毒
夺去了活生生的生命
黄鹤高飞
一去不返
大江东去
逝者如斯
苍天流泪
楚凤哀鸣
樱花飘落
那是我们撒下的满地纸钱
细雨菲菲
那是我们流下的悲伤眼泪
医生们一个个倒下
倒在和平年代
倒在没有硝烟的战场
在这个忧伤的的春天
您们还来不及看到新的黎明
用自己的生命
书写了最壮丽的人生
您们如一座座丰碑
矗立在大江南北
您们的名字永远闪烁发光
荆楚大地永远传诵您们的事迹
英雄们
好走
天堂里也是
一位位顶天立地的
男子汉
好医生
2020.3.27
于武汉
因抗疫不幸去世的医生生平简介
李文亮（1985年10月-2020年2月7日)，男，辽宁省锦州市人。2020年2月7日因感染新冠肺炎经抢救无效，不幸离世。生前系武汉中心医院眼科医生。
刘智明（1969年-2020年2月18日），男，湖北十堰人，2020年2月18日因感染新冠肺炎经抢救无效，不幸离世。生前任武汉市武昌医院院长，主任医师，神经外科专家。
彭银华（1990年12月-2020年2月20日），男，湖北云梦人，2020年2月20日因感染新冠肺炎经抢救无效，不幸离世。生前系武汉市江夏区第一人民医院、协和江南医院呼吸与危重症医学科医生。
江学庆（1964年3月31日-2020年3月1日），男，生于湖北省武汉市，2020年3月1日因感染新冠肺炎经抢救无效，不幸离世。生前任武汉市中心医院甲状腺乳腺外科主任、主任医生，2018年荣获第十一届中国医师奖。
梅仲明（1962年11月29日-2020年3月3日），男，出生于湖北省武汉市，2020年3月3日因感染新冠肺炎经抢救无效，不幸离世。生前任武汉市中心医院眼科副主任。
朱和平，男，2020年3月9日因感染新冠肺炎经抢救无效，不幸离世。终年67。生前系武汉市中心医院返聘专家，眼科副主任医师。
王烁，男，广东援鄂医疗队队员。2020年3月13日在湖北荆州走访查看社区疫情防控工作时遇车祸抢救无效，不幸因公殉职。年仅36岁。生前系广东省职业病防治院职业卫生评价所主管医师。
作者简介：
严春芳 作家，居中国武汉。
译者简介：
龙江，武汉大学英文系副教授，美国伊利诺伊大学费曼研究项目访问学者。
林于靖，香港城市大学语言学硕士。
Editor’s Note: Qingming, aka Chinese Memorial Day or Tomb-Sweeping Day, April 4th for 2020 AD, is traditionally the day of remembrance for ancestors and beloved ones passed away. This year, we would like to honor in particular those medical professionals, who lost their lives fighting against the Coronavirus for the rest of us. It is said that the best way to cope with grief and uncertainty is to express your feelings. This poem is a rolling tribute to those who died to save others’ futures, a dirge we share for them and those who lost their lives in this Covid-19 pandemic.
We Miss You Dearly at Qingming
A poem by Yan Chunfang
Translated into English by Long Jiang and Lin Yujing
Messengers of light – Li Wenliang,
Mei Zhongming,
Zhu Heping.
Angels in white – Peng Yinhua,
Liu Zhiming, Jiang Xueqing.
Medical fighter assisting Hubei – Doctor Wang Shuo.
At this special Qingming, We miss you so dearly.
It was 2: 58 AM
February 7
when you passed,
Dr. Li Wenliang.
Fifteen million people of Wuhan,
or, rather 1.4 billion compatriots,
all over the 9.6 million square kilometers of land shot beams of light into the sky,
escorting you to the Gate of Heaven.
It was 10: 30 AM
February 18
when you passed,
Director Liu Zhiming,
with no last words.
What you said most often to your beloved were: “Don’t…”, “Don’t’…”,
“Don’t expect me for dinner,
I’m at the clinic
with a few more cases to take care of…”, “Don’t wait up for me,
I’m in the ward
reviewing cases at hand with colleagues…”.
When laid up,
You refused to have your wife as your carer,
as you preferred her to save more lives at the front.
It was 9: 50 PM
February 20
when you passed,
Doctor Peng Yinhua,
at such a young age.
Too late for a wedding
though you were married,
too late to send the invitations that still lay
in the drawers.
The wedding picture with your wife became the last memory.
It was 5: 32 AM
March 1
when you passed,
sweet Doctor Jiang Xueqing at the mere age of 55.
No more tall silhouette in the sunshine,
no more busy footsteps in the sickrooms,
no more 60-decibel voice. Never to see,
never to hear.
You are gone, gone forever, turned to ashes with the virus.
It was midday
March 3
when you passed
Doctor Mei Zhongming.
That benevolent heart stopped unwillingly at the age of 57,
before a well-deserved retirement.
The patients still need you
to treat their eyes,
your parents and family still wait for you
to have small talk and a reunion
It was 9 AM
March 9
when you passed,
Doctor Zhu Heping.
You could have enjoyed old age in comfort,
you were already retired,
but you were gone –
a willing ox has fallen
in the fields of brightness where it has ploughed.
It was 11 PM
March 13
when you passed,
Doctor Wang Shuo, 36-year-old
who came from Guangxi to assist Hubei. Ghostlike streetlights,
gleaming in that dark night,
a deadly van roared down the street
and ran over you
who were checking on quarantine in the community.
Doctor Li Wenliang,
you said that
you had never dreamed of becoming a hero.
But, you could never be a deserter,
you fought like a soldier
to the last minute when the virus took your young life. Your name goes down in history
as Doctor Li who dared to speak the truth,
who will forever be remembered by people –
A heroic whistle blower in white.
Director Liu Zhiming,
the coronavirus took away your life
but could not destroy your immortal soul. You had given all of yourself
to fulfill a doctor’s duty
and sacred mission.
Doctor Peng Yinhua, you were a husband, a competent doctor
but above all, a man with a capital “M”.
The day when your funeral was held also witnessed your belated wedding.
Sweet Doctor Jiang Xueqing,
I have heard
so many patients
talk about your noble character, as evinced by
numerous touching stories.
You treated the patients like your own family, your soothing 60-decibel voice
Warmed their hearts.
With your surgical knife,
you had removed countless thyroid and breast cysts, restored youth and health to patients,
saved so many lives young and old.
You devoted yourself to your career,
sparing little time for your family.
How you wished to hug your 2-year-old grandson again.
These words should be carved on your gravestone: Winner of Chinese Medical Doctor Award,
A sweet doctor
Whose 60-decibel voice is most pleasing.
Doctor Mei Zhongming,
you brought light to so many people’s lives but your own eyes are closed forever.
You were a messenger of Light
but now, you have to walk in a dark world.
Doctor Zhu Heping,
you were a guardian of others’ eyes
but all your beautiful dreams were shattered. Alas for the hundred-year-old Central Hospital, I heard the wailing of all your colleagues
on your departure from life.
Doctor Wang Shuo,
you traveled hundreds of miles to the rescue of Hubei.
Having said goodbye to your beloved you passed the torch of love
to warm the people in need.
You were not taken down by COVID-19 but killed in a car accident.
What a tragedy!
What a loss!
You sacrificed your precious life for the people of Hubei.
Li Wenliang passed, I was saddened.
Liu Zhiming passed, I was grieved.
Peng Yinhua passed,
I cried.
Jiang Xueqing passed, I was distressed.
Mei Zhongming passed, I wept.
Zhu Heping passed,
I lay sleepless.
Wang Shuo passed, I was heartbroken.
More than three thousand people from all walks of life
were deprived of their lives
by the tiny virus.
The yellow crane flies away, never to return.
The mighty river flows eastward like the passage of time. Heavens weep,
the Chu Phoenix whines.
The cherry blossoms are drifting down, they are the joss paper we scatter.
A drizzle is falling,
it is our mournful tears.
Doctors fell one after another
in peacetime,
in a smokeless battlefield.
In this sorrowful spring
you would not see the dawning of a new day.
But with your own lives,
you have composed indelible chapters of our time.
Like monuments
erected across the mighty river,
you are legends imprinted on people’s memory and passed down from generation to generation.
Rest in peace,
Heroes,
you are surely in heaven as Honorable doctors, Men with a capital “M”.
March 27, 2020
Wuhan
Doctors’ Profiles
Li Wenliang (Oct. 1985-Feb. 7, 2020), male, born in Jinzhou, Liaoning Province. Died from COVID-19 despite all treatment on February 7, 2020. He was an ophthalmologist at Wuhan Central Hospital.
Liu Zhiming (1969-Feb. 18, 2020), male, born in Shiyan, Hubei. Died from COVID-19 despite all treatment on February 18, 2020. He was Director of Wuchang Hospital of Wuhan, Chief Physician and a neurosurgeon.
Peng Yinhua (Dec. 1990-Feb. 20, 2020), male, born in Yunmeng, Hubei. Died from COVID-19 despite all treatment on February 20, 2020. He was a doctor of PCCM working for No. 1 People’s Hospital of Wuhan Jiangxia District and Xiehe Jiangnan Hospital.
Jiang Xueqing (Mar. 31, 1964-Mar. 1, 2020), male, born in Wuhan, Hubei Province. Died from COVID-19 despite all treatment on March 1, 2020. He was Director of Department of Thyroid and Breast Surgery and Chief Physician of Wuhan Central Hospital, winner of Eleventh China Doctor Award in 2018.
Mei Zhongming (Nov. 29, 1962-Mar. 3, 2020), male, born in Wuhan, Hubei Province. Died from COVID-19 despite all treatment on March 3, 2020. He was Deputy Director of Department of Ophthalmology of Wuhan Central Hospital.
Zhu Heping, male, died from COVID-19 despite all treatment on March 9, 2020 at the age of 67. He was Associate Chief Physician of Ophthalmology at Wuhan Central Hospital and rehired after retirement.
Wang Shuo, male, a member of Guangdong Medical Team Assisting Hubei. Died at the age of 36 in a car accident while checking on coronavirus quarantine in a community of Jingzhou, Hubei. He was Physician in Charge at Division of Sanitation Evaluation of Guangdong Provincial Center for Occupational Diseases Prevention and Treatment.
Poet’s Profile
Yan Chunfang, a writer and resident in Wuhan, has published poems, prose in Hubei Daily, Chutian Metropolis Daily, Chutian Literature and other publications. His works have also been reprinted by such online media as China Writer and Guang Ming Online. He is a columnist for Qilu Evening News Yidian and has published numerous poems and articles included in top searched list on Baidu and Toutiao.
Translators’ Profiles
Long Jiang is Associate Professor of English of Wuhan University, MA program supervisor, research scholar of Freeman Fellows Program at University of Illinois. His research interests include British and American literature and culture. He has published textbooks, translations and bilingual readers with Wuhan University Press, Dalian University of Technology, Yilin Press etc.
Lin Yujin is Master of Art in language studies at City University of Hong Kong. She has published several translated books with Huashan Literature and Art Publishing House and some translated essays in the monthly magazine English Square.
香槟丛刊 