Wednesday, September 2, 2015

Memory of Prairie


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

Clouds were hanging low,
dense and white, like snow
I rode horse to chase them,
though they kept the distance,
like the never ending horizon

Reflected in water were clouds
River ran but the clouds remained
Once again I lay on the ground waiting for storm, yet
the storm never came, only I saw
the dark skinned Tibetan
waved his sleeves
over
my head

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

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


Wednesday, July 22, 2015

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




Friday, March 6, 2015

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

Light

God said: Let there be light ---
but the Sun hesitated
it shone on somewhere all the way through,
created scenery with depth; but in somewhere else
it went only half way, illuminated
partial space, thus the bird-like
creatures - the kind that are sensitive to light,
were forever confused
about whether to fly up high
or to remain on a flat, yet
not so solid
ground

Thursday, March 5, 2015

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