Memory of Prairie

Thus I had a silent view:
Under the gray sky
I lay on the ground waiting for a storm -
but the storm never came, only I saw
a Tibetan man with long sleeves*
riding horse across highland

The clouds hang low,
dense and white, like snow
I rode horse chasing the clouds,
but they stayed the distance,
like the never-ending horizon

Reflected in water were clouds
The river ran but the clouds remained
Once again I lay on the ground waiting for the storm
once again, the storm never came
only I saw
the Tibetan horseman passing through
with his long sleeves
waving over the highland


*Long sleeves, Tibetan style of clothing. 
(translated/rewrote from my early Chinese poem )


记忆 

我有了这样的宁静
深灰色的风中没有声音
倒在光秃的地上欲听出今夜的风雨
却看见有人拖着长袖走过草地

头顶的云很密
并不掉下像是雪一样轻
我骑快马而去
也总是那远山
总是那白云

河里有它得到影
河水流过冲不走白云
我听不见风雨扑到在草地
那人的长袖拂过我头顶

Gray Horse

So it was in your dream
I encountered that gray horse
and his gray mane ---
there’s no sunlight that day
only silence, stretched behind the horse
and his waving mane

No one told me the color of grass
but my impulse produced deep green
Rainy season had just gone
the horse trotted over wet grass with forlorn song

But the grass didn’t weep
trees leaned on the pale sky
creeks stopped running, began to ponder
the sternness of the wild

There I saw the gray horse
in the windless air waved was his gray mane
then I heard silence
disbelieved
that was the sound of rain

(translated, partially re-wrote from my early Chinese poem, original title: Beyond Still Image)

image sourse:
http://thelonghorseride.blogspot.com/2014_11_01_archive.html

Moonlight

Tonight, I haven't painted yet
Tonight
I've been singing, writing

and dreaming.

Moonlight is my confidant
she just visited my chaste white poetry sheets
and dwelt there --
she belongs to poetry
belongs to my songs
and my wide awakening dream

Tonight is also for thoughts
my disordered reason suddenly starts thinking
something beautiful
and it was moonlight
who is telling me
what “beauty” means

Tonight, I have not painted yet,
tonight, I sleep in my poems - who
shower under
the silver moonlight - where
I dream
the Moon

(translated, partially re-wrote from my early Chinese poem)

今夜
我没有绘画
今夜
我写诗 
    唱歌 
      做梦 

月光是知心的 
悄悄落在诗歌的纸上
她是属于诗 
   属于歌
     属于我醒着的梦 

今夜是思想 
我杂乱的思想梦见了美妙 
月光在告诉我 
告诉我美妙是什么 

今夜 
我没有绘画
在月光沐浴的诗歌里
我做着月亮的梦

Path Of Love

Book of love
was opened by a gentle hand

page by page;

story of love
was told by a tender voice

word by word ---
Text drifted

voice whispered

chapters intertwined

story lines undulated

and when music quietly danced through,

they all scattered
like autumn leaves

along the PATH OF LOVE
woven by

roses

and thorns

----------------------------------------------------

This poem was inspired by this piano work It's About The Rose In The Vase On The Table by Karen Marie Garret

The Bridge That Crosses Over Time

The bridge that crosses over time

stands on a solid
two dimensional ground

unperturbed

by its sundry earthy desires ---

time flies

river runs

bridge remains, and

embraces

Painting by Marc Gosselin

Village

A spontaneously painted village 

is a conscious touch

over an absentminded
valley ---

wisps of smoke wind along

pond reflects, like a wide open eye

oh, landscape is just awakened

so am
I

Life

life, by design

is confined within limited

dimensions, yet

imagination strives 

to go beyond

disregards the eternal torment of

irresolution

between the comfort of

confinement and
freedom of

uncertainty

February Sky

February sky

opaque, like a piece of

frayed canvas,

stretched silently

behind an old stone bridge - 

underneath

weeping water runs 

for

centuries