Facing Snow Courageously


34

 

I face the snow headfirst

With eyes like diamonds

For winter, I will grieve

 

In my own way, hearing

The battle cry of many

New ghosts, I will whimper

As the wind howls

And I will do a rapid

 

Snow dance at low dusk

And the stove will remain red

And my heart will hear

 

The news broken like

An empty book ready

For the calligraphy of

Hibernation, retreat, reclusiveness

The clouds of disorder

 

Of this strange world

Will not trouble me anymore

I can appreciate the whirlwind

 

Of snow ragged among

The tops of trees, and that is

Enough, tea is optional

Nature is unforgettable

The ladies seek comforts

 

But the snow only requires

A landing place, to accumulate

The white magic of another time.

Memories like chinese poems


A good traveler has no fixed plans, and is not intent on arriving.
~ Lao Tzu

50

homesick for something
I cannot name, for home
beyond all other homes?
I am alone in a foreign land

in love with foreigners
sick of the locals
I do not want to speak
or conform to the customs

of living, sowing, reaping
i search for the Tao
but cannot find it, it evades
my grasp, like the endlessly

awake stars, they do not sleep
for light is bled in rivers
of heaven, like poems
mild-mannered echoing down

the centuries, poorly translated
by tongues who no longer speak
with the ancients, the ragged fringe
to be a rare fellow lost among

the songs, i hear music on the lips
of the clouds, that do not dream
but draw, day after day
to bid each other a sad farewell

as neighbors, as friends, as heart-broken
children that have no place
but the wiping of eyes
the lingers at the fork in the road.

CHINESE PSALM


80

Jade dew withers in Autumn’s husks
The wounds of the groves of maple Trees are open
On Du Fu Mountain, in Li Bai gorge
Undertaking a mission, for leaves to fall

The river surges with waves to kiss the sky
The quiet morning light bleeds for hidden pillows
Reed flowers shine with eyebrows of memorials
The schoolmates of my early years

Do not remember me, I am my own new master
A lonely boat, a single line, my heart is full of home
With the dully and dreary chill of another year
The sun slants across evening, beating the shores

It matters not if my wishes are realized or not
Like shifting clouds, our destinies are varied
Pale Autumn still has an imperial aura
Now the little Lotus Park is filled with borrowed sorrows

Bathed in a sun of dragon scales, I hold court
With the palace open, the purple vapour of my soul
I have lived many lives in the Autumn air
Women always greet me with green feathers at Spring
And my poet’s head hangs low grown Emerald old.

Poetry

YOU WHO ARE PROUD AS ALL MEN’S TONGUES


76

Too young to have learned what sorrows means
The youth embraces it too tightly
Like children afraid of the night
They learn to play in the darkness

At the Hibiscus Inn, after the summer
Of flowers, maybe then
One-hearted as ice in a crystal vase
You will grow up into someone

That embraces all the good and bad
You heart may continue as a
Sheet of ice in a jade vase
But that is your story to tell

In the level dawn, all alone, you
Will be starting for the mountains
While the cold night rain hides the river
It is your fate to be so stubborn

But antiquity is now a yellow dust
As we watch against the sunset on the plains
Too young to have learned what heartbreak is
You imagine the world has hurt you indeed.

Poetry

No Home like Femininity


Lying in bed I almost mistake Good health for youth Moonlight on the floor For memories of your skin Looking up I see the cold light For what it is, birthplace Source, cool strength Like your body that carried me … Continue reading

Treatise on Du Fu


87

Vulnerable while we ride the wind
We are as gulls drifting slowly up the river
Dew is heavy on the lips of sunsets
With a loving morning in view

I can feel the edge of Heaven, tatters of Autumn
Beginning to drip with the frost of Winter
The spider’s web is ready for me
Nature’s plan for me is being revealed

Long rains have turned to frontiers of snow
And the red fruit of pomegranate drops into our mouths
Like the rubies of a fastly approaching giant Comet
While we will all be separated by a human death

I will see you in my dreams in the after-life
Old friends in exiles with only words
My poetry already knows how much I will miss you
Caught in a net of a thousand nights of laughter

The setting moon will spill of our stories
As the moment when I first saw love on your face
The waters of time are deep, deeper than memory
Don’t let the river gods take you, I know the stars

Are a country of petals shed like ancient tears
Where all the grief of the worlds turns to love
In a super-nova that has the mouth of pure love
My heart is a world of water and crystal

Already ready to be reborn, like clothes damp
With the time of spring rains, long rains
Heal everything, long rain has not harmed the land
Our weeping voices will rise and join the clouds

In the blue skies our wings will not falter
But wavering, flinching, I will reach summits
Of the Sovereign in the ordinary, the rainbows built
In the supreme architecture of my descendants.

Cycles of the Clear Bright


41

The cities will be ruined
And what will remain will be
Heavy dew, thick mist, dense grass
Fields, far as roads once ruled

The drunken parties of men will be gone
Fled into the fifth watch of
Galaxies, tunnelling into oblivion
Somewhere near the speed of light

Passing are all ruined palaces
Empires will crumble, as if gladly
To make way for the new
The coasts will swallow peninsulas

The skies will perform cleaning
Volcanoes will erupt
And broken gates will ease in
New wild gardens, waterfalls

Over bridges, time renews all
Life does not question, she moves
While we rest in moments of snow
Beneath migrating rains

The gravestones of Earth will be hidden
Only the voice of screeching owls
Will remind the lantern light
Of Nine Spring mornings
What all was once, can be again.

Last Words of a Poetaholic


40

The moon sets, like an anchor
Of the Stars, a tide of white silk
Floating down to the Oceans
A tree by our house waves
In the milky light of Tonight

Reaching as far as the little boat
In my dream, I am the river
Of light coming down as a bird
From the mountains, swift as
Time, the moss covering my youth

These rustic windows look out
On to flowers by the shore
Spring never needs to hide behind the sun
Steep cliffs block the Moon
From my view, hermit-clouds

I envy you Nature, so masterful
I am only a guest in your blooms
Not even the path that leads me
Up to daybreak will remember me.