Unfailing Heart

her heart endured a lot

it was once
provoked to anger by betrayal
broken as a result of blunt rejection
too tired too weak to respond
bled out to a slow death

and yet
her heart is still
raw
open
fighting
imbued with passion

macro shot of heart shaped cut out
Photo by Engin Akyurt on Pexels.com

Hollow

The day you packed your bag
You took away my freedom to breathe
The spring bouquet smells anosmic in shades of grey
Turning my face to the sun takes me a morning of energy
The afternoon is occupied by staring at
the morning coffee stain on my t-shirt you once wore
You left me with a lone pathetic shell in zombie distain

Lose/Lose

I reach out my hand
to search you
in the darkness

I can hear
your fading heartbeats
giving up on me

helpless me
hopeless you

grayscale photo of person standing on seashore
Photo by Engin Akyurt on Pexels.com

Your Poetry

How can I
take in all the splendid scenery in one day
taste the world’s delicacies in one travel
appreciate every blooming flower with one season
comprehend every piece of art in my life time

Reading your poetry is an inquisitive journey
Its richness and mystery evoke my intrinsic curiosity
Once I open the wondrous door to your art
I am completely absorbed in the marvel of your words
How I wish the door to reality was left hidden
Time and space become ambiguously irrelevant

You may experience Gabriela’s wonderful poetry here

The Snow Is My Only Companion

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.

对雪

战哭多新鬼
愁吟独老翁

乱云低薄暮
急雪舞回风

瓢弃樽无绿
炉存火似红

数州消息断
愁坐正书空

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.

Grieving the Autumn Rains I

This poem was written by Du Fu in 754. He was a Chinese poet and politician of the Tang dynasty.
Alan Steinle (Alan’s work) and I worked on the translation together.

秋雨叹三首 (一)

雨中百草秋烂死
阶下决明颜色鲜
著叶满枝翠羽盖
开花无数黄金钱
凉风萧萧吹汝急
恐汝后时难独立
堂上书生空白头
临风三嗅馨香泣

The grass has decayed from all the rain we’ve seen,
But the cassia below the steps remains bright green.

Your feather-like leaves escaped the autumn showers;
Like golden coins are your many blooming flowers.

You can feel the bitter wind’s persistent attack;
Can your stalk endure the force, or will it crack?

Above the steps, I let down my graying hair;
I smell the fragrant cassia, but I feel despair.

My Favourite Person

The Living Poetry prompt – kinfolk

my favourite childhood memory is
curling up to my great grandmother
listening to her sharing stories of her life

I got to know her nine brothers and their fate
one was an infant death
another died in a city bombing
two were sold as slaves
four were lost in war
one was too weak to go on

I met great grandfather from her smile
teenaged bride and young groom
he was handsome and dashing
a captain of the navy
served the Qing Emperor
died young at the sea

she was a widow at thirty-five
sent off the concubine with golds and silvers
escaped two wars with her two boys and a blind mother

she fed her family by serving in a colonial mansion
where she witnessed the good life of pet dogs
she wished her next life came back as a fluffy white puppy

when great grandmother reached retirement age
the cultural revolution broke out
she was sent to the Black Hill carrying mud for construction
and was sent home after contracting tuberculosis

when she was seventy years old
still
she ran a family day care
and home sewing business

I used to tell her I love her
when I grew up
I would travel to Spain
to make a good living
and I would send her 99 pesetas each month
so she would have a good life in old age

when I was a teenager
she rebuked my parents not letting me wear crop tops
she also told me not to marry a white man
because they have big penises

the last question she asked me was
“When are you coming home to see me?”
I said
“When I save up enough money to buy a plane ticket.”
great grandmother passed when she was ninety-seven
she dropped like a ripened fruit from a tree
peaceful and fulfilled

I did not make it to her funeral
that remains to be my greatest regret
till this day

 

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(My great grandmother Zhou Weiying 1904 – 2001)

 

A Lone Man

He walks the narrow tracks
among ferns and mossy rocks
on quiet weekdays
The sound of birds echoes off the carved stones
plays the stream like a Guzheng
When the city is hustle bustle
he feels completely at ease

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Photo by Cassa Bassa at Mt Wilson, NSW, Australia