Arthur Sze

Arthur Sze: Literary Sovereignty & the First Asian American Poet Laureate

The 2026 visit of Arthur Sze, the first Asian American U.S. Poet Laureate, marks a pivotal moment for Albuquerque’s cultural visibility. By exploring the "highest form of literature"—translation—this page connects ancient linguistic traditions to modern discussions on AI and authenticity. It provides a roadmap for the APINH diaspora to find their unique voice in a digital world, ensuring our community's struggle and beauty are preserved as an authoritative human record.

Sponsored by the Chinese American Citizens Alliance, Wheels Museum, Albuquerque Academy Asian American Parent Council, and our own City of Albuquerque’s Office of APINH Affairs, APINH community members and cultural allies gathered in the auditorium at Albuquerque Academy for a special event—to hear an intimate reading of selected works and Arthur Sze’s literary process.

Being in the auditorium felt like a sacred space of peace among the chaos of our outer world.

During his poetry reading, something Arthur mentioned stuck out to me—his work in translation and his belief that translation is the highest form of literature. Arthur shared how he learned Chinese in order to translate ancient works. This made me think of my sister, Dr. Angelica So, who learned to read and write Khmer script (Cambodian language) so that she could translate works as part of providing visibility and new perspectives that capture nuance someone not from the diaspora might not understand.

The beauty of translations is how language, knowledge, and context transform over time. One person can have a very different view of what a specific word means, and based on their interpretation of it, that work can change the conversation.

In person, Arthur and I chatted about this modern era of AI. I asked him about advice he would give to others—especially our youth—about why it’s important to find your own voice and authenticity during a time when AI can write for you. I asked him to share how it matters and any wisdom for how people can curate their own style.

I’ll update this page with that conversation when Arthur and I have it. Until then, I wanted to share one of his translations with you. I read one of his books—The Silk Dragon II, Translations of Chinese Poetry—and the opening lines about how great literature can only come from purgatory made me reflect on the conversation Arthur and I had. What happens to the beauty in the struggle of finding your own voice—will this be a lost art if everyone defaults to using AI for their own voice?

From Arthur Sze’s The Silk Dragon II, Translations of Chinese Poetry

Poet Laureate of the United States

WANG JIAXIN

Fish Belly Poem

Dr. Xia Kejun said today:

there’s no poetry in hell, and heaven doesn’t require it either.

Great literature can only come from purgatory.

Sure, I agree. Destroyed in hell,

like in a gulag or the Jiabiangou labor camp—

there’s a crowd of hungry ghosts and idiots there.

But are we in Dante’s purgatory now?

No, I’m reminded of Jonah’s legend—

The prophet Jonah was thrown into the ocean,

and a large fish swallowed him.

We, too, are in the belly of a fish;

it is dirty, but it seems warmer than the ocean outside.

This fish belly has hurricanes, floods. (Sometimes,

it floods up to your chest, like when you are stuck in a subway car!)

These are eerie clouds as dense as fish scales.

Yet there’s care in this fish belly, and they summon us

to get vaccinated in the middle of the night.

In the fish belly, we just can’t find

a table on which to write our great literature.

Does literature matter? We just want to live.

Jonah’s eyes were wide open, and he prayed in the fish belly for three days and three nights.

And we don’t know

who the master of this big fish is.

We don’t know if we can make it to the very end

or if we’ll be spit out by this giant fish.