盛雪文集
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盛雪文集
·盛雪演讲赖昌星远华案及反腐败
·盛雪披露远、朱两大案政治斗争黑幕 (图)
·賴昌星─中國特色的碩果
·中共霸權政治與加拿大民主大選
·中国民主日 告祭鲁之璠
·个体怯懦,群体嚣张(图)
·他們让卡城如此美麗
·从阴之道重回人间
·屹立不倒的民运人士们
·庆祝这样一个日子是个耻辱
·赖昌星被遣返与中国政局
·為陳光誠割袍斷義
·薪火相傳 建立聯盟
·911十周年專訪盛雪:反恐必須反專制
·专制迫害后遗症 人类史上的“奇观”
·母子天人永隔 炳章自由何日
·呼吁紧急关注:陈西人间蒸发
·高智晟律师,你在哪里
·胡锦涛来访前,戏说胡锦涛
·陳偉群的「中國情結」
·多伦多举办刘晓波作品朗诵会(图,视频)
·吴英死刑案面面观
·中国双非婴儿潮迫使加拿大修改法律
·从赖昌星案看中共司法误区
·加中贸易火热 会否牺牲人权
·盛雪在加拿大国会中国问题研讨会的演讲
·哈珀與薄熙來
·口風很緊,賴昌星還有
·加拿大监狱专访赖昌星
·国内抗暴烽火燎原 海外民运迎头赶上
·見證「六四」的世界各地民主女神像(多圖)
·上访的终点站--——黑监狱
·中共“维稳”维到了加拿大
·加总理未出席伦奥,没有激怒英国人
·千古啟芳 傲立蒼茫
·在加拿大国会人权委员会听证会上作证
·高山進去王國強出來(图)
·加移民部长在盛雪家与流亡者共度中秋,并向盛雪颁发勋章(图)
·加拿大是流亡者的家園
·辛亥与中国国运
·热比亚:维吾尔人的母亲
·寬容多元──加拿大在全球推動宗教自由(多图)
·市长犯法与庶民同罪
·专访郭国汀从海事律师转变成人权律师的心路历程
·关注殷德义和他关注的世界
·日内瓦国际研讨会聚焦中国民族问题
·必须用民主制来杜绝腐败
·冷酷的暴政 不孤独的英雄
·THE POST-JUNE FOURTH GENERATION SUFFERING HARDSHIPS BUT WALKING TOWARD
·“六四”后一代:承载苦难走向阳光
·社区吁特鲁多访华为人权发声
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报道及访谈
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·亚衣:“这里也有激情与诗意”——访民联、民阵“六四”事件调查委员会主任盛雪
·盛雪获加拿大少数族裔新闻记者奖
·专访在多伦多风雪中绝食抗争的盛雪
·民运女将转眼成了明星
·RFA:有人冒名盛雪挑拨海外民运
·表里俱澄澈 肝胆皆冰雪
·海外华人(女记者盛雪女士) 梦回故乡
·《TAXI》首演(图) 六.四悲惨往事呈现舞台
·陈奎德:剑气箫心
·记被CCTV构陷为“民族败类”的盛雪
·入港被拒民运人士盛雪 指北京违背奥运精神
·64二十一周年——這是一代人的悲劇
·CBC电视新闻节目评论加拿大总理哈珀中国贸易之旅
·盛雪在UCLA发表「国家恐怖主义」专题演讲
·盛雪应邀参加温哥华国际作家节并做主题演讲
·专家讨论中国国家恐怖主义问题
·引渡賴昌星的前後
·賴昌星對中國政壇微妙衝擊
·中国的巨变已经到来(图)
·哈伯将带11名中国政治犯名单访问中国
·撰新闻 评时事 屡获奖 盛雪获封流亡作家(图)]
·反对中共渗透加拿大能源领域
·自由跨越宗教 人权高于主权
·六四悲情的现代主义演绎——漫评英文舞台剧《的士》
·加中关系研讨会 中国人权再成焦点
·李竹阳获救彰显加拿大人权大国形象
·“六四”后一代:承载苦难走向阳光
·《远华案黑幕》作者盛雪女士谈赖昌星被遣返回中国
·你可以 “借阅” 著名作家盛雪
·成龍遭遇艾未未
·各方帮助 李竹阳申请加拿大庇护获准
·張樸:盛雪印象
·盛雪的香港六天 六四情结萦绕
·盛雪 北风谈网络纪念“六四”的活动
·盛雪、六哥“六四”结义
·女侠香港行 情深深 雨蒙蒙--记民阵主席盛雪访港
·盛雪:法总统会见达赖是民主国家应採做法
·追逃追赃誓打“出逃虎”咋不使杀手锏
·封你没商量!纪念六四全球网络会议遭袭
·蘇庚哲——沒有最奇,只有更奇
·中国乱象 全民倒共应运生
·27年揭露六四 盛雪入選麦克林「加拿大故事」
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评诗集《觅雪魂》
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At Bloody Dawn


    Remembering Tiananmen
   
   
    By Sheng Xue May 1990

   
   
At Bloody Dawn

   
   
   
   June 3rd 1989: After being stuck in a crowd on Chang’an Avenue for hours, we learned that the army had used tear gas to disperse a crowd in Liu Bu Kou – close by, near the center of the city. Even in the heat and humidity, I felt a chill down my spine. We heard that many had been injured.
   
   When the army marched on the town, I couldn’t help noticing the irony. The Chinese Communist Party had founded the People's Republic here, 40 years earlier, but instead of goosestepping in uniform, they'd entered Beijing quietly, disguised as peasants, weapons hidden in their bags. Now they were pulling ordinary citizens from the streets as they moved behind enemy lines – just as they had done before.
   
   TV and radio announcements kept warning us: "Stay off the streets while the soldiers enforce Martial law in Tiananmen Square. The People’s Liberation Army will use all necessary means to overcome obstacles." The army did not look like they were here just to “clear up” Tiananmen Square. They were bloodthirsty, spreading fear to every corner of the square. I was distraught, unsure about what to do next.
   
   A friend appeared, her pale face streaked with tears. "They did it. They are doing it," she cried. I ran to the window and saw the troops rolling in to Tiananmen Square and without a second thought went out into the streets.
   
   A crowd separated four soldiers from the ranks. Inexplicably, the troops ignored the lost soldiers – as if they were meant to be left behind. The crowd circled the soldiers and knocked them down. I rushed forward shouting: “Stop! They are the same as you and I. Stop! Tell them the truth.” I could hardly hear my own voice. A youth picked up a spiked club that one of them had dropped. I looked back to see the four soldiers being beaten and bleeding. Another tragedy of Chinese killing each other. It took all my strength to run to Tiananmen Square.
   
   The streets were silent. A month before they'd crackled with noise but now they were cold, deeply sad places. They had witnessed too much wrath, misery and despair.
   
   Passing the entrance to the Municipal Bureau of Public Security, I came across a heavily armed riot police blockade. They pushed through the crowd, swinging their clubs, but whenever they broke up the crowd, we regrouped. The violence escalated. We dug up bricks from the pavement and cracked them into small chunks to throw at the so-called “guards of social interest and people’s benefits,” and “defenders of human justice and reputation.” The crowd shouted: “Rascal government, bandit troops, and police accomplices. Students are innocent.” my voices were broken, my hands wounded, my hearts were filled with sorrow.
   
   Aren’t Chinese a cursed nation – killing fellow countrymen? Or has God chosen us to take on the burden of human suffering?
   The police moved in waves, charging at the crowd and beating them down savagely with clubs before retreating into the building. Injured protestors streamed out of Tiananmen Square. I watched tears stream down the dark, wrinkled face of one man. “Son of a bitch! Chinese communists devoid of gratitude,” he spat. He pushed a cart, with a young body on top of it, soaked in blood. The crowd filled bottles with gasoline, to make Molotov cocktails. Chunks of stone flew from both sides of the pavement as the Molotov cocktails etched fiery curves in the night. In the distance, you could hear sarcastic chants clearly: “The enemy advances, we retreat. The enemy pauses, we make trouble. The enemy tires, we attack.” Mao had used these lines to rouse his “proletarian revolutionaries” to guerrilla warfare. Now the melody was strong and the meaning was even greater. The “offenders” and the “defenders” could not beat each other. I was forced to surrender whatever remaining delusions I harboured about government emancipation. It hurt to let them go.
   
   I still wonder if what we did was brave. I honestly can't say. Our people are combative, always jostling each other. We have fought amongst ourselves forthousands of years – no more so than during the last half century. During a ten-year period of the Cultural Revolution, hundreds and thousands of people were killed, sacrificing themselves for a common cause. In the April 5th Movement of 1976, it took all night to wash the blood stains from Tiananmen Square. When will these sacrifices serve as a memorial for the country's current tragedy?
   
   The sound of gunfire shocked people at 3:30 in the morning. It was directed towards Tiananmen Square. People were confused and asked why firecrackers were being set off so late at night. Someone ran over yelling "Gunfire, gunfire." In fact, the army had been moving in from the west, shooting at protesters since midnight. The death toll kept rising as they marched along the streets.
   
   Later I learned that two tragedies from someone(my husband): When the troops reached the intersection of Xidan Road, a man in 30s pushed through the crowd, stood in the middle of the street and confronted the parade of military vehicles and soldiers on board. “You'll have to roll over my body before you can harm the students in Tiananmen Square” he shouted. Quietly, a soldier raised his machine gun and drilled the young man's body with bullets. He fell.
   
   And, a 14-year-old girl flee in the street. She was scared and frightened, standing in a shadow in front of a store. She didn’t even realize the People’s Liberation's Army – once so sacred in her eyes – had shot her. A bullet had sliced her skullopen. Her eyes had been stretched wide open and had never closed.
   
   On June 6, I went to the spot where she'd died to find only a bloodstain remaining. Threads of black hair mingled with brain tissue in the broken glass caused by stray bullets; the hair stirred in the smoky breeze. My companion picked up a small piece of skull bone. Less than two metres away, a man in his 40s had been shot to death. Bystanders told me that at this intersection alone 200-300 people had died.
   
   Shortly after 5 in the morning, I turned to walk toward Tiananmen Square. I thought of all the students who would be sick, weak, hungry and exhausted as I approached there. I will never forget the walk.
   
   I met a group of China Red Cross staff. Their white garments were stained with blood. They carried several unconscious bodies. Tears ran down their cheeks. One man held a square tile uprooted from Tiananmen Square. It was coated withblood. He stared into space blankly. I couldn't suppress my own tears. These white angels had never been to a battlefield; they had been attacked because of a peaceful petition. How could they have deserved this?
   
   Tiananmen Square had turned into a battlefield. I stood among the wreckage where the war had ended minutes before. Tanks lined the streets, with their barrels raised high, as the crowds watched. Soldiers pointed guns at pedestrians and put their finger around the trigger. For a moment, the volcano fell silent. Then tanks charged the crowd. Screaming, people began to fall over each other. The tanks closed in, then drove backward. Before they could steady themselves to stand up, soldiers fired upon the crowd. Two young people were caught in the leg and fell. I rushed to them and spotted fist-sized wounds in their legs. They were rushed to the hospital.
   
   Later, a friend told me that, at almost the same time, a train of tanks at Liu Bu Kou had released a tear gas bomb and rolled over the bodies of 11 students. When my friend got there, he saw people picking up the broken bodies and piling them into carts.
   
   My mind was stimulated to the point of numbness, I paused at the edge of this historic cliff, gazing at the bloodshed along the horizon. Alarms sounded in the heavens and on the ground. This was a bloody awakening dawn appeared to a dark morning.
   
   Translated by J. Fon in May 2014
   
   
   

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