I remember those fun beach afternoons
We bathed in the gossamer autumn sun
Daddy’s shoulders were the mountains we climbed
Mummy’s arms were the swing we clung to
The secluded Clovelly echoed the wonderful childhood
which we locked away in our fond memory
This poem was written by Du Fu who is considered to be one of China’s greatest poets of the Tang dynasty.
Du Fu was born to a minor scholar-official in Henan Province. His mother died while he was young, and an aunt helped raised him.
Du Fu is often described as a poet-historian, and his works convey the emotional impact and import of political and social issues and register a range of private concerns, trials, and dramas. His poems are remarkable for their range of moods as well as contents.
Alan and I worked on the translation together on this piece. You may read more of Alan’s translation work on Chinese, Spanish poetry, own poetry and essays here.
After the battle, we mourn for the dead;
I’m old and alone, grief filling my head.
Dark, ominous clouds are filtering down;
The cold wind and snow are swirling around.
There is no wine left in the calabash bowl,
But the stove is still hot from the smoldering coal.
The news cannot reach us from our dearest kin;
I sit down to write, but I cannot begin.
An effortless collaboration with Ben, do check out his amazing poetry on Instagram Remedy Poems
My words are falling
over your collarbone
like loose strands
dipped in charcoal
bleeding through skin
The things you craved
but now regret
Home is a memory
distant and frostbitten
by turquoise hands
I have recently written this piece with Ben, whom I share similar way in writing poetry, from the concept beginning lines to the last word fine tune. Do check out his blog Benjamin Grossman
I savour your words on my tongue daily
Reading aloud your thoughts and feelings
As if sampling a handcrafted recipe
Words, by their prowess, bring life or death
From yours, I only taste an antidote
Each sentence a mouthful of succulent nourishment
Leafy greens of personification and aromatic spices of diction
Lines of sugar poured over smoldering pages
The flavor of an elite story
Always I crave your expression
Every fibre yearning for your art
Never stop writing
Your every scribble satiates my soul
She is my past, present and future.
She is the incomprehensible fate of my life and death.
She is my beloved book, read and reread.
She is my root, let love grow deep into the ground.
She is my play pet in virtual world, my queen in reality.
I will turn to dust,
disappearing into the sea of her eyes,
grain by grain,
never give up existing.
He likes me
He really likes me
He really really likes me!
All clouds in the sky is everything wonderful in paradise
His smile makes Zac Efron’s fake
His eyes are a candy store I am lost in
His humour is the centre of an amusement park
His kisses melt on my lips like pink fairy floss
He makes me feel like buttercups
And butterflies dance in my stomach
As I sip from his cup of cola.
I hope our saga never ends.
Three months bubblegum romance
Bursts forth a rich flavour
artificial sugar induced decay
Leaves exposed nerve toothache
buttercups lead to a stomach ache
Just like butterflies lead to indigestion.
Too much cola – I’m too wired to sleep.
And this tired saga needs a finale. . .
Our short lived romance is like popcorn
Never lasts to the end of the movie before they’ve gone stale
What I first craved is now just a headache.
And I’m ready to go home.
As I leave, I turn and give one last glance.
Hey, you never know when you’ll crave popcorn again.
A collaboration with Samantha and Sonia. You may like to visit their work via Instagram:
Down the guards
Off my superficial layers
Bitter longing dreams
I rise from ashes
Consoles your loneliness
In an exhilarating whirlwind