无题

一湾三泉五重楼,

半水半月半江山。

吴歌声起秋深处,

一片归心待月圆

 

Untitled

Three brooks merge into the distant bay, and off it 

some buildings come into view;

The moon half in her veil spills down her silvery light,

half the bay is lit, and half the world too.

 

In Autumn’s deep grove, a song is heard, 

a song in its local Wu dialect ,

and my heart that longs for a home , though suddenly, 

remembers that it’s almost time for another full moon.

 

Note: written on the mid-autumn festival 2018 ( 24th September, a typical day for family reunion when the mid-year moon in full ) in Chinese, in the style of ancient Chinese poems in rhymes, which is difficult to translate into English, well I’ve tried my best where the rhymes are missing, I supplement with clear-cut imagery.

By The Eastern Sea

(I)

How funny you can never find quietness here,

Even at night when the star-lit sky tosses down darker shadows,

and cradling some to sleep while startles others.

Sometimes a car passes by, you hear the screeching sound

from the highway;

An owl begins its solitary ode.

The insolent sea, like a playful boy, fumbles the jagged coast

with his white fingers, and runs away, giggling,

and returns with some gifts hidden under his leaden cloak.

And the wind is in the woods.

(II)

The steamer glides like a giant sea gull into the deep blue,

leaving for another destination on the other end of the earth.

I always try to imagine a life of a seaman,

freedom on the deck, clubbing at every port,

and at night, the discordant languages of the constellations

whisper them to sleep.

I’m not a seaman for sure,

But my life is like the sea, carrying me forward to places

I don’t know, to people I can’t understand.

(III)

My whole life, intransigently maintains the dignity of to-be

like a sun-warmed pebble on the shore,

will soon be cooled by the coming tide and the night.

There is nowhere better to go than the bottom ends of the sea,

dark places, free from the grating sound of the world.

Yet, I’m like a pebble on the beach waiting, waiting …

The shadow of an albatross sails past me, 

soundlessly— 

The shadow guided by an invisible hand.

(IV)

And the wind is in the woods, shaking down an autumn of dancing red;

The blue sky hangs low;

The greenery of the quiet sea is all embracing.

I hear the grey voices of mankind calling me home …