云
从虚无 中来，徘徊
在空空里。
步履轻盈，蹒跚
向何处归去？
本是一抹尘埃，
焉何到此高界？
宠受光焰非本意，
哪里觅孤寂？
不要把我阴郁的面庞
说成是悲哀
燃烧的炉膛里不可能有冰雪
即使在我泪流满面的时候
也不要说我在忧伤。
从无边里来
到无边里去
在光华四射的时候
我走向消极。
奔
我走在夜的心脏
听不见夜莺歌唱。
济慈的美梦已醒，
夜行的蝙蝠扑腾在何方？
几盏孤寂的路灯
几株冷落的白杨
辨不清的嗡嗡机音
萦绕我在灰色的建筑群。
我走在夜的心脏
闻不到花草暗香。
即便是波德莱尔之花
也被夜色深深埋葬。
夏的蛙鸣已去
秋的蝉唱不响
寒冷的冬夜不飞雪
黑暗里只生长欲望与诱惑
哪里去觅灵感的光彩？
我走在夜的心脏
寻不着灵感的光芒
浓浓的暗在我的肢体沉淀
撂我倒在黎明的边上。
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Mother
I am afraid
She won’t wait for me
To know her better.
I have long planned
When I am not so damn busy
To sleep in the big bed with her arm around me
Telling me all about herself
Not what I was as a child
But her life when small, young, and meridian
How did she manage it as a woman
Bringing up four daughters and
Surviving two husbands and three sons.
Ever since I remember
I have been flying away
On various planes of language
That she labors for me to catch up with.
The one thing she truly misses, she says
Is the night school that was closed
Before she learned to write wo— the self
That have many strokes in it, she remembers
Never managed to sketch even half of them
She would gave anything
If only Chairman Mao could be back and re-open the night school
For women like her.
a o e y u ü
Standard Chinese
English
I am farther away
I do not even tell her
I am doing a Ph.D
In women’s studies
I am afraid to be asked
What do you do
I do not have a language
To make her understand
That women needs studies
She’s been counting the days
I have left for America.
I am getting shier of the phone
Do not know how to answer
When are you to be back?
Wait for me, wait for me—
I will come home—
With no language but egg noodle soup
To fill your bowl—
We will touch the rain—
Drink the smell of the corn field—
Watch the rainbow
Arching over
East—West—
North—South—
High—Low—
Left—Right
You by me and me by you
She won’t wait for me
To know her better.
I have long planned
When I am not so damn busy
To sleep in the big bed with her arm around me
Telling me all about herself
Not what I was as a child
But her life when small, young, and meridian
How did she manage it as a woman
Bringing up four daughters and
Surviving two husbands and three sons.
Ever since I remember
I have been flying away
On various planes of language
That she labors for me to catch up with.
The one thing she truly misses, she says
Is the night school that was closed
Before she learned to write wo— the self
That have many strokes in it, she remembers
Never managed to sketch even half of them
She would gave anything
If only Chairman Mao could be back and re-open the night school
For women like her.
a o e y u ü
Standard Chinese
English
I am farther away
I do not even tell her
I am doing a Ph.D
In women’s studies
I am afraid to be asked
What do you do
I do not have a language
To make her understand
That women needs studies
She’s been counting the days
I have left for America.
I am getting shier of the phone
Do not know how to answer
When are you to be back?
Wait for me, wait for me—
I will come home—
With no language but egg noodle soup
To fill your bowl—
We will touch the rain—
Drink the smell of the corn field—
Watch the rainbow
Arching over
East—West—
North—South—
High—Low—
Left—Right
You by me and me by you
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Apple and Sunday Noon
In the dee dee da da silence of Sunday noon
I set out numerous claws contained
In an old fashioned fashionable cocoon
To crawl over the smoothy sneaky surface of the ball
Trying to detect some sound solid core
Trapped up in juicy joy floppy floor
Ka ta ka ta
Ka ta ka ta ka ta
I packaged several boxes of crawling claws
To send out
To various bites of my s-elf
In the dee dee da da silence of the noon.
Click, clock, cling, clang
Click, clock, cling, clang
I collected from various bites of my s-elf
Tanks and tanks of crawling claws
In the dee dee da da silence of the noon.
I set out numerous claws contained
In an old fashioned fashionable cocoon
To crawl over the smoothy sneaky surface of the ball
Trying to detect some sound solid core
Trapped up in juicy joy floppy floor
Ka ta ka ta
Ka ta ka ta ka ta
I packaged several boxes of crawling claws
To send out
To various bites of my s-elf
In the dee dee da da silence of the noon.
Click, clock, cling, clang
Click, clock, cling, clang
I collected from various bites of my s-elf
Tanks and tanks of crawling claws
In the dee dee da da silence of the noon.
Monday, June 4, 2007
Daodejing: Response to Water
who is brecht
laozi dao and benjamin
de-de da-da re-re-me-me
daodejing
bury yourself in the C
you will get a D
and who cares
If you have a poignant p
but sure, dear, give me a ring
and you will find me still
eating, drinking, drooling
with beibei oo aa cooing
laozi dao and benjamin
de-de da-da re-re-me-me
daodejing
bury yourself in the C
you will get a D
and who cares
If you have a poignant p
but sure, dear, give me a ring
and you will find me still
eating, drinking, drooling
with beibei oo aa cooing
Saturday, April 21, 2007
Repetition
"A moment comes when what one has done, what one writes, one's work, one's practices, all of it seems a little like an endlessly repeated substance doomed to repetition....And then suddenly you see the future that remains to you, the future of writing, the future of work, as a kind of foreclosure of everything new..." [Roland Barthes, Speech delivered at the season's James Lecture, New York University, Autumn, 1978--quoted in Blonsky, Marshall. "Introduction: The Agony of Semiotics: Reassessing the Discipline." _On Signs_. Ed. Marshall Blonsky. John Hopkins U Press, 1985. xiii.]
Barthes is indeed Barthes, who can see so clearly into life and expresses his ideas so well. Isn't his vision what used to haunt me in an unspeakable but tangible way? Yes. Used to, that is, before Beibei was born. When I actually read this passage with her in my lap, soundly sleeping, I smiled, feeling Barthes was not all right.
Is she a repetition? Whenever I smile involuntarily at her involuntary smile during sleep, everything around seems to start to life, asking me to rearrange them into Beibei's life. Surely, the other day, sunshine knocked at the pantio door, inviting me to take Beibei out, and for the first time after a long winter, I noted there were so many greens already there..."This is grass, That is tree." I was teaching Beibei: or maybe it was me who should have been--and probably was--the student?
Barthes is indeed Barthes, who can see so clearly into life and expresses his ideas so well. Isn't his vision what used to haunt me in an unspeakable but tangible way? Yes. Used to, that is, before Beibei was born. When I actually read this passage with her in my lap, soundly sleeping, I smiled, feeling Barthes was not all right.
Is she a repetition? Whenever I smile involuntarily at her involuntary smile during sleep, everything around seems to start to life, asking me to rearrange them into Beibei's life. Surely, the other day, sunshine knocked at the pantio door, inviting me to take Beibei out, and for the first time after a long winter, I noted there were so many greens already there..."This is grass, That is tree." I was teaching Beibei: or maybe it was me who should have been--and probably was--the student?
Friday, March 23, 2007
Girl at the Window
Dears:
Thank you all for your responses. The following poem is my note of gratitude. Take it lightly, though.
窗前伫立的姑娘，
收起心绪箩筐！
冰的火热
火的冰凉
三千长的记忆
街头叫卖的小曲
“冰糖葫芦哩”。
不要被我的假象迷惑
哭泣的欢颜
开怀的清泪
我不是你眼中的紫薇。
The girl at the window,
Conceal your thought willow!
The ice is scathing
The fire is freezing
The memory of three thousand meters long
Is mingling into the pedlar's song
"Bing Tang Hu Lu"--Bang!
Sugared berry
Sour sweet
Buy one and
Get two free.
Enjoy!
Thank you all for your responses. The following poem is my note of gratitude. Take it lightly, though.
窗前伫立的姑娘，
收起心绪箩筐！
冰的火热
火的冰凉
三千长的记忆
街头叫卖的小曲
“冰糖葫芦哩”。
不要被我的假象迷惑
哭泣的欢颜
开怀的清泪
我不是你眼中的紫薇。
The girl at the window,
Conceal your thought willow!
The ice is scathing
The fire is freezing
The memory of three thousand meters long
Is mingling into the pedlar's song
"Bing Tang Hu Lu"--Bang!
Sugared berry
Sour sweet
Buy one and
Get two free.
Enjoy!
Friday, March 16, 2007
Lianne
Little girl Lianne joined town on February 18, 2007, and is now a chubby and cheering creature: motherhood is enjoyable OVERALL, AFTER ALL?!
Slightly smiling and seemingly satisfied, her face often touches me, reminding me of something--something long forgotten, something yet to come by. In the sound of night and in the silence of noon, I try in vain to find language for that something.
This morning, as I gazed at the crystal branches outside the window, something jumped into my head: you are my dream--after all these years. After all these years, you are my dream? You, my little girl? You that fills my everyday? You that I put away to make room for everyday? You-my beauty of sadness? You--my coffeeortea? You--that part of me that longs for permanence--Siheng, Siheng? Yes, you, why doubt?
Slightly smiling and seemingly satisfied, her face often touches me, reminding me of something--something long forgotten, something yet to come by. In the sound of night and in the silence of noon, I try in vain to find language for that something.
This morning, as I gazed at the crystal branches outside the window, something jumped into my head: you are my dream--after all these years. After all these years, you are my dream? You, my little girl? You that fills my everyday? You that I put away to make room for everyday? You-my beauty of sadness? You--my coffeeortea? You--that part of me that longs for permanence--Siheng, Siheng? Yes, you, why doubt?
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