Friday, December 14, 2018

Majestic Pine


December
the chemistry between
my ordinary self
and
a majestic pine
once again
struck
amidst the
coldest winter
air

Monday, June 4, 2018

June, I Said Hello to the Sun


When the first wave of summer heat came
in June, I set out alone
to greet the Sun
I wanted to see how faraway the horizon stretched
I wanted to know how tall maples and pines grew
I relished exuberant color of green
I rode on swift gusts of wind
The dandelion on the sidewalk - whom I secretly loved
nodded to me without knowing my ambition
Roaming clouds - whom I adored unreservedly, 
joined my journey without knowing my destination 
Oh June, I said hello to the Sun 
with long lost passion
telling her that I was ready to write 
another song of
myself


Saturday, May 12, 2018

The Scent of Gardenia


The scent of gardenia
sneaked out from shadows
collided with my morning ramble
spilled joy
all-over
my leafy garden of 
May




Friday, May 11, 2018

Lush Green of May

Peace
is depicted by
the lush green of May
overflowing
from a distant field  
into 
the tender heart of 
Spring




Wednesday, February 8, 2017

Fisherman and His Life


Perhaps
it was due to overwhelming melancholy
the fisherman walked down to the river
for a temporary rest

Perhaps, it was because the reeds
saw the footprints of the fisherman
seagulls made decision
to fly away from
noisy and madding crowd

Someone recalled the life under water
was like fish’s murmurs
vague and ephemeral;
someone also recalled
the life of fisherman -
fishing all day,
packing up net,
walking along river,
conversing
with rocks behind the reeds

Someone believed,
that the reeds overheard the conversation
but words were obscure
like sand grains
mixed with bubbles of tide waves

Perhaps, it was due to the wind,
the reeds never heard
what fisherman said
Perhaps
it was because fishing net
blocked the view
the reeds did not see
what really happened
to the fisherman
and his life




The Fisherman, printmaking, Max Kurzweil

*Translated /re-wrote from my early Chinese poem.

-----------------------------------------
打鱼人的生世

也许是 河边的枯草
不经意地
记下了打鱼人的脚印
江鸥 才飞过了许多
模糊的人迹 

有人回忆 
许多年前的水中生活 
就像是鱼 说一些 
转瞬即逝的梦语 

也许是 
像树叶一样多的忧郁 
盖满了眼睛 
疲倦的腿 
才去江边歇息 

有人回忆 
多少年后的打鱼人 
收起渔网 
空着笆篓踏过鹅卵石 
枯草听见他们对话 
像涨潮时的泡沫 
翻卷出的沙子 

也许是因为渔网 
挡住了视线 
枯草才不再回过头 
去看渔网后的天空 
也许是因为 
没有风 
吹散树叶 
枯草在石头后面 
 什么也看不清

Sunday, March 20, 2016

Sentiment


My sentiment grew
like any living organism -
broke womb, 
stumbled through the troubled puberty
endured the sorrow of
middle age
arrived
on the land of
innocence - where 
my consciousness
slept under
the unconscious
Moon





Sunday, March 13, 2016

Wednesday, September 2, 2015

Memory of Prairie


I had such a silent view:
Under the gray sky
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,
but they stayed 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
but 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