Bird from Cathay
Out of the cage of Cathay，
A bird is very happy.
High above the Pacific Ocean，
"I'm liberated，" says he.
Crossing the ocean in 24 hours，
He finds him a home cozy.
Everyday he eats quaint food;
Everyday he watches fancy TV.
Soon our bird gets tired，
For no more fun can find he.
His wonders shared by no friends，
No BP in hand，he feels lonely
Worse that he has to learn new tricks，
So that life has continuity.
Our bird is now the age of old dog，
To be a student is not easy.
Our bird misses home a lot，
Where his life was care free，
Where he met birds of same feather，
Where he could visit his family.
Now every night he watches the sky;
The Big Dipper laughs at his stupidity.
He sings the song about Mao Tzetung，*
Wishing to be saved from calamity.
A land of strange trees is no fun，
Better to be where one should be.
Back in Cathay they have both:
Confucius and Coke in harmony.
A deep sigh our bird heaves，
His wings now weak and flabby，
His heart now weary of many a change，
He doubts his strength for another journey.
Aug. 8， 1997
2016 new translation:
A bird escaped the China cage
Flew in the sky like a sage
I am liberated， said he
And enjoyed fun in a rage
A 24 hour flight over the ocean
Landed him happily in a place of pleasure
He enjoyed nice foods to the utmost
And watched fancy TV to the full measure
Yet as time passed his joys became less
The bird was no longer happy as before
His emotions were shared by no friends
Without BP, how sad he heard calls no more
What was worse that he had to learn new skills
Without them how could he make a living?
The bird had reached the age of forty
What a pitiful student there he was sitting?
The bird began to miss his homeland
A care-free scholar he used to be
Those of his flock often met together
On holidays he visited friends and family
Now every night he looks up to the Big Dipper
And misses Mao Zedong the great leader
He wishes a delivery hand from the Savior
To get him out of this quagmire
There is no fun in the land of strange woods
It is much comfy just to stay at home
China is so big that she has all you want
Confucius， Coco Cola， you just give a name
Lowering his head the bird gives a lengthy sigh
His wings feeble and tired for the wind high
His heart is now aged after half a life's migration
Is his residual strength fit for another navigation?
休斯顿城中
飞云掠处高楼起,黄昏暗淡天墨绿。
休市城中秋色里，黄山搅乱乡愁絮。
Flying clouds brush lofty skyscrapers
Dark is the dusk, the sky appears inky green
In this autumn in the city of Houston, evoked
Is the image of peaks of Yellow Mountain
Sonnet， If You Call It
I walk on the wet snow in warm winter，
Remembering childhood days in Beijing.
Dripping ice from low roofs in early spring，
Feed last year's grass seeds with clear water.
Often is earth clad in a biting cold，
In winter when ice mounds form on the ground.
Around the water source is a compound，
Of many houses that are shabby'nd old.
Grandma blows breath to thaw the window ice;
White flakes melt into steams of riverlets，
Covering the glass with criss-crossing nets，
And she wonders about the baikchoi's price.
Those are the days of simple subsistence，
Yet much I miss the happy innocence.
The Summer of Fredericton
St. John has trimmed herself，
Her banks have surfaced new，
Now blazing with yellow petals
Among grass with green hue.
Like pagodas， churches stand high，
Their spires brushing the sky.
The new foliage of trees
Hide and show roofs of houses.
Motor boats， some slow，
Like rafts they come and go.
The two bridges like sleeping beauties lie，
Their slender bodies pleasant to the eye.
High above hang the white clouds，
Scattering like sheep crowds.
A breeze touches my cheeks，
The ripples are calm and quiet.
The river calls back memories of home，
The Yangtze I left in order to roam.
Now to whom can I happily mention
The lovely summer of Fredericton?
When autumn comes the leaves in Maple Town are rouge turning
The autumn river now wears the expression of a passenger leaving
On autumn hills the shades of the summer still come into sight
However rough wind and rain now frequent the autumn night
When the autumn moon is full, I am bidding you adieu
The autumn clouds, so delicate, will remind me of you
My heart in this autumn is filled with so much sorrow
For whom do I write this song of autumn, if not you?
An Autumn Morning
The wind of the night brings a morning cold
Outside, grass white with frost
And lawns yellow with fallen leaves
That no hand collects
Pumpkins smile by the door
No souls awake, no sound heard
Alone in the depth of autumn
I feel my heart aging
Oct. 20, 1996, Fredericton
Good is Wuhan, especially the summer days
Bamboo beds in streets at dusk
Sleepless due to vexing hot wind
Tired still when waking up at morn
Good is Wuhan, especially the Laotongcheng restaurant
Pork soup and Doupi cake appealing to appetite
Making one forget his mother’s home cooking
No wonder business is booming
Good is Wuhan, especially the local accent
Women in street shout in voice coarse and loud
Often are they mistaken as men
It sounds endearing when accustomed
Good is Wuhan, especially the East Lake
Waves in wind are like those of the sea
When wind dies down, it is rippling soft skin
Reflecting the comfortable sky
The Moon Festival
Sept. 15 of this year is the Chinese Mid-Autumn Festival.
When the moon rises on the sea,
It shines far and wide,
The only free messenger,
That can bring my gaze home.
In the moon I seek
The shadows of a tree
A rabbit and a beauty
As well as a young man.
I wonder if you still remember
This story of our childhood,
While looking at a moon distanced
By a forest of sky-scrapers?
In this side of the Ocean,
Memories are like the sand.
That run through our fingers
Quickly, like traffic on freeway.
I close my eyes,
And see the moon cakes grandma made,
From our neighbor's molds.
At West Quaco, a huge body of a cliff broke loose several years ago. Viewed from a certain angle on the West Quaco Road, this part of the cliff resembles the head of a female looking out to the sea, as if waiting for her beloved to come back from fishing.
For centuries she
hid herself in the cliff,
confident that her loved one,
who had gone out to the sea
to fish salmon
and catch lobsters,
would come back soon.
The cliff was her home,
the trees its roof,
fending off the storms
and filtering the rain,
nourishing her
with clean water
and giving her
secure shelter.
Centuries have passed,
her man never returned.
tides have come back
into the St. John River
thousands of times,
but her man never returned.
The sea has been emptied
of her contents--
her fish grow sparse
and lobsters dwindle
and kelp lies in sick color,
withering under the sun,
but her man never returned.
One day she opened the cliff
and waded into the sea,
till the cold water of the bay
came up to her neck.
With expecting eyes,
she looks into the distance,
searching a drifting sail.
Morning fog hangs low,
Leisurely, waves rush onto the shore,
Rocks crowd together like clouds.
Vast is the sea, its horizon melts into the sky.
Almost touching the ocean, lines of sea gulls pass by.
Totally ignoring the splashing water
Two people fish a high cliff
Purple blossoms border the winding path,
Traffic mixes with human voice,
High is my mood for sightseeing.
Hating to return
I sat on a bench, facing a sail, distant, and alone
Climing the Fremont Peak
At dusk we climb the towering Fremont Peak
With brown grass and green trees in sight
A sea of clouds weighs heavy over the Bay
High wind briskly dances the red, blue and white
Silent are the antenne and quiet the hills
Memories, like smoke, trail into days bygone
Oblivious of human cares, the sun sinks down
A river of stars meditates with a river of light
1999,7,11
From the smoky clouds comes the hazy rain,
Sea in the bay is dark reflecting the sky.
It's early fall, the body feels nice, the air is clear
And I look forward to grass turning green,
For a scenery of the Yanshan Mountains.
Ah, yes, the Western Hills, have the leaves turned red?
I have been on top of the Ghost-feared Peak and
Inscribed our names in a rock, 20 more years ago.
Now he, my school mate, is a petty official in Beijing.
No news for years of course.
I laugh at myself, a man over 40, still a drifting weed, away from home.
This life is short and where is a shabby house, a pretty wife and a na?ve son?
Forget about it.
Back in my room
The bed, the sleeping bag and the books, all in disorder
1999-08-06
DLI Haunted House
More scary than those in China's Fengdu
Ghosts of many years come out overnight
With legs shaky, Zombi roams in the street
Their wings fluttering, bats hang in dim light
In the blood-smeared chamber, lonely ghosts cry
At the fleshy banquet, rotten bones fry
Pitiable are the sobbing girls on the ground
A helping hand halted, fearing the end
1999.10.31
In the rainy winter of Monterey peninsula
Wet wind nourishes the face and grass is lushy
The sun, hidden in the rolling clouds, appears red
The green bay lies under the cover of white fog
Though on leave, I have no reason to travel
In my idle hours, I lament my doing-nothingness
Thinking of the plum rains in the Yangtze Delta
I however have no mood to recall my past days
读汉英论坛苏轼词即席口占 2000/9/12
今夜加州月，云中只独看。人寰尘市中，赏月无空闲。若非读旧帖，焉知有婵娟。只缘月饼香，远在旧金山。
On Mid-Autumn Festival
This California moon in the clouds
I am here watching it alone
In the busy chores of the world
I have no mood for enjoying
If not for reading old writings
I’d have forgotten about the moon
Because the smell of moon-cakes
Is as far as in San Francisco
Absent from my country five or six years
I have accumulated quite some paid leaves
In the beginning of spring in this April
I come to see the blooming town of Luoyang
From Beijing to Wuhan I traveled the old route
In Central China I enjoy the beautiful flowers
Among new buildings I dicern the old roads
That lead to my once lived home in changes
A Communist at Burger King
Hungry when passing Burger King
I went in to buy a bite
A man smiled broadly to me:
"D'ya know? They brought down a helicopter!"
"Who?" I thought he meant Afghanistan
"The rebels!" he smiled,"in South America!"
"I am a communist!" he continued,
"Are you from Viet Nam?"
I told him I was from China
"Then you ARE a Communist," he said
"NO I am NOT," I looked behind me
Diners were looking this way
I asked him how he became a communist
Since he is a pure Caucasian American
"I am from the working class," he told me
But he is now on disabled welfare
He is tall and looks OK to me
But what the hell, the U.S. is lenient
In labling people disabled
And issue them a parking permit
You see, man, THAT is socialism
And I wanted to say it is more so than China
But I held my tongue and finished my burger
And stood up to quit the scene
"Already leaving?" he looked at me
Wanting to chat more, it seemed
I guess a communist must be lonely
In this town of no politics
"Mao Tsetung!" he waved at me as a greeting
"Chiao!" I said in return
Mounting my bike I went to Ralph
And enjoyed capitalism on sale.
2002.1.27
I live to the west of the universe
And you live to the east
Missing you, I never see you
But we share the same sky
Today the moon deliberates
To stride the vast ocean of stars
We can look at it the same time
Yet while I'm awake, you're asleep.
Why Birds Do not Need Traffic Rules?
On the serene lake float the water birds
In all directions but they do not clash
I now see why they do not need traffic rules
For they never want to speed
Their graceful and leisurely cruising
Allows for any unexpected intruder
Who would shoots in from an on coming lane
The birds scatter, a blooming lotus
Last year as I roamed the land of mulberry trees
We met, in an empty inn
We had no wine or food for a night that was long
And the messages from you later were also scarce
In the town I saw you with your little daughter
Upon asking, you sent a photo I sometimes caress
My lonely heart often laments the lack of a child
The ocean vast, I can only sigh a helpless sigh作者: fanghuzhai 时间: 2019-8-25 17:44 改一首投世界诗社接龙游戏
