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memory
seemingly fresh
seemingly full
this cup of coffee
slightly sweetened
with a tasty lump of time
drink it too eagerly
your might get your lips burned
sip it too slowly
you could completely lose its flavor
watch it too closely
you would find only a dark reflection
deformed strangely
how come
Just how
Come: you
Me? She
Us? I
You? He
Them? One
Her? We
You? It
Us? They
Him/her?
Who whom?
recalling
The very idea of you
Tangoing afar
As in an entanglement
With that of me
Beating tranquility
Of two rainbow-like hearts
Hung in the sky, crying aloud
In one and the same muted voice:
I miss you
Since that summer
We jumped naked
Into the fond pond
Of our boyhoods
Where we loved to
Loll and wallow
Like playing dogs
Chasing frogs madly around
From one lotus leaf to another
Our pants beside the muddy path
Blown far away
In a hot and humid dream
the tree and the marble
My father planted a little Chinese poplar
Close to the bank of the Yangtze River
Where I buried deep under that tree
A glass marble treasured by my childhood
Long long afterward, I find the tree dying
Though its seeds all blown away somewhere
While my marble has really grown
Into a magic tree in the heart of a friend
Memorial Splendors
the moment i squeezed into this world, i discovered that there was a quite big difference between light and darkness;
the day my mom stopped breastfeeding me, i discovered that i could use my own toothless mouth to intake food and satisfy my hunger;
at age 5, i discovered that the colorful marbles i had buried deep in the backyard of my house would never grow to be a magic tree as i had expected;
when i was 7, i discovered that the gas emitted by a running truck had a peculiarly pleasant smell;
at 11, i discovered that during drowning my body felt much lighter and more resilient than my spirit;
at 14, i discovered that poetry looked very beautiful when i saw it with my mind’s eye;
at 17, i discovered that i could say "down with chairman mao" in my heart without running any risk of being discovered and thus put into jail as a counter-revolutionary, as in the case of one of my classmates who had happened to misspell mao's name during a spelling quiz;
at 22, i discovered that just as a political commissar could change my outer life permanantely, a charming girl could alter my inner being once and for all;
at 28, i discovered that fathering a child was a joy forever;
at 35, i discovered that many of my childhood dreams had actually come true without my knowing it;
at 39, i discovered that a rented room was never a home, while a house of my own was nothing less than a whole climate of heart;
at 47, i discovered that poetry was the religion i had been trying to convert myself to;
at 49, i discovered that it was much easier to change or reform myself than anyone else, even my wife's little habit to leave her toothbrush and toothpaste around after use;
since my last birthday, i have discovered that there are numerous new and interesting discoveries waiting for me to make...
encountering: for Ho Ran
On our way to the Louise Lake
We saw a baby deer crossing the highway
Of our hearts; we knew nothing about her
Nor did she even bother to notice us
But her tender and graceful shape has ever
Remained standing there, like yours
Even long after our Banff tour ended
At a bus stop before the church
on a mountaintop
Once in a while, just to reenact memories
The mind sets forth beyond itself and its environment
Travelling afar. He cries like a rooster:
Cock-a-doodle-doo. Cocks do not coo, but I will
If only the mind could raise itself to the top
Of a mountain, whirling upwards, joining the glows
In the east. Instead it falls slowly and softly
To the ground, drifting around, finally
Settling down at the mouth of a tremendous cave
It was meant for, near nothing that is recalled
And never is there a shadow, let alone a shadow’s
Shadow, as Plato sees it, reflecting the inside
Ventifacted out there at a spot of oblivion, where
The passer-by wonders how it happened
To be, and be there as if never had been
Yuan Changming published monographs on translation before leaving China. Currently, Yuan edits Poetry Pacific with Allen Qing Yuan in Vancouver. Credits include ten Pushcart nominations, eight chapbooks (most recent one being East Idioms [cyberwit.net, 2020]) & publications in Best of the Best Canadian Poetry (2008-17) & BestNewPoemsOnline, among 1639 others across 44 countries.
Lotus Image & License: Depositphotos_32738103_s-2015
seemingly fresh
seemingly full
this cup of coffee
slightly sweetened
with a tasty lump of time
drink it too eagerly
your might get your lips burned
sip it too slowly
you could completely lose its flavor
watch it too closely
you would find only a dark reflection
deformed strangely
how come
Just how
Come: you
Me? She
Us? I
You? He
Them? One
Her? We
You? It
Us? They
Him/her?
Who whom?
recalling
The very idea of you
Tangoing afar
As in an entanglement
With that of me
Beating tranquility
Of two rainbow-like hearts
Hung in the sky, crying aloud
In one and the same muted voice:
I miss you
Since that summer
We jumped naked
Into the fond pond
Of our boyhoods
Where we loved to
Loll and wallow
Like playing dogs
Chasing frogs madly around
From one lotus leaf to another
Our pants beside the muddy path
Blown far away
In a hot and humid dream
the tree and the marble
My father planted a little Chinese poplar
Close to the bank of the Yangtze River
Where I buried deep under that tree
A glass marble treasured by my childhood
Long long afterward, I find the tree dying
Though its seeds all blown away somewhere
While my marble has really grown
Into a magic tree in the heart of a friend
Memorial Splendors
the moment i squeezed into this world, i discovered that there was a quite big difference between light and darkness;
the day my mom stopped breastfeeding me, i discovered that i could use my own toothless mouth to intake food and satisfy my hunger;
at age 5, i discovered that the colorful marbles i had buried deep in the backyard of my house would never grow to be a magic tree as i had expected;
when i was 7, i discovered that the gas emitted by a running truck had a peculiarly pleasant smell;
at 11, i discovered that during drowning my body felt much lighter and more resilient than my spirit;
at 14, i discovered that poetry looked very beautiful when i saw it with my mind’s eye;
at 17, i discovered that i could say "down with chairman mao" in my heart without running any risk of being discovered and thus put into jail as a counter-revolutionary, as in the case of one of my classmates who had happened to misspell mao's name during a spelling quiz;
at 22, i discovered that just as a political commissar could change my outer life permanantely, a charming girl could alter my inner being once and for all;
at 28, i discovered that fathering a child was a joy forever;
at 35, i discovered that many of my childhood dreams had actually come true without my knowing it;
at 39, i discovered that a rented room was never a home, while a house of my own was nothing less than a whole climate of heart;
at 47, i discovered that poetry was the religion i had been trying to convert myself to;
at 49, i discovered that it was much easier to change or reform myself than anyone else, even my wife's little habit to leave her toothbrush and toothpaste around after use;
since my last birthday, i have discovered that there are numerous new and interesting discoveries waiting for me to make...
encountering: for Ho Ran
On our way to the Louise Lake
We saw a baby deer crossing the highway
Of our hearts; we knew nothing about her
Nor did she even bother to notice us
But her tender and graceful shape has ever
Remained standing there, like yours
Even long after our Banff tour ended
At a bus stop before the church
on a mountaintop
Once in a while, just to reenact memories
The mind sets forth beyond itself and its environment
Travelling afar. He cries like a rooster:
Cock-a-doodle-doo. Cocks do not coo, but I will
If only the mind could raise itself to the top
Of a mountain, whirling upwards, joining the glows
In the east. Instead it falls slowly and softly
To the ground, drifting around, finally
Settling down at the mouth of a tremendous cave
It was meant for, near nothing that is recalled
And never is there a shadow, let alone a shadow’s
Shadow, as Plato sees it, reflecting the inside
Ventifacted out there at a spot of oblivion, where
The passer-by wonders how it happened
To be, and be there as if never had been
Yuan Changming published monographs on translation before leaving China. Currently, Yuan edits Poetry Pacific with Allen Qing Yuan in Vancouver. Credits include ten Pushcart nominations, eight chapbooks (most recent one being East Idioms [cyberwit.net, 2020]) & publications in Best of the Best Canadian Poetry (2008-17) & BestNewPoemsOnline, among 1639 others across 44 countries.
Lotus Image & License: Depositphotos_32738103_s-2015
