Each poem is an individual life form --- it takes love to make, wisdom to nurture.
Wednesday, September 2, 2015
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
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