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

秋晨

夜风送来的是清晨的凉， 门外草结霜。 遍地落叶是金黄， 无人收， 自凄凉。 门口南瓜憨带笑， 门里秋眠不觉晓。 独立金风深深处， 只觉此心老。

Autumn in Fredericton

Trees thinning, the sky grows wider
As rain stops, the season feels colder
Watching the red maples I am tired of never
In those distant western hills

Oct. 13, 1996, Fredericton

佛市之秋

叶疏天更阔，雨住秋益凉。红枫看不倦，远在西山上。

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?

July 16, 1997 Fredericton

佛市 之 夏 1997. 6. 8 Fredericton St. John 河 北 岸 草 坡

水 落 岸 出 ， 碧 草 黄 花 。 教 堂 高 耸 ， 屹 立 如 塔 。 新 树 掩 映 ， 屋 舍 朦 胧 。 机 船 往 来 ， 远 观 如 筏 。 二 桥 横 卧 ， 眠 姿 修 美 。 白 云 高 悬 ， 洋 洋 洒 洒 。 水 波 不 惊 ， 微 风 佛 面 。 隔 岸 人 语 ， 咿 咿 呀 呀 。 望 水 思 乡 ， 滨 江 之 市 。 谁 与 语 之 ， 小 城 之 夏 ？

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 here 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 friend,
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 no way easy.

Our bird misses home a lot,
Where she enjoys life care free,
Where she meets birds of same feather,
Where she can visit her family.

Now every night she watches the sky;
The Big Dipper laughs at her stupidity.
She 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,
His strength good for only one journey.

* Song from "The East Is Red', the grand dance epic in China in the 60s: "When we see the Big Dipper, we think of Mao, and we have direction in darkness."

Aug. 8, 1997

鸟 人 鸟 语 1995

一 鸟 飞 出 中 国 笼 ， 洋洋 自 得 在 高 空 。 从 此 解 放 无 束 缚 ， 随 心 所 欲 乐 无 穷 。 越 洋 一 飞 廿 四 时 ， 筑 巢 乐 土 喜 融 融 。 美 食 终 日 不 厌 细 ， 新 奇 电 视 日 日 逢 。 时 久 生 厌 乐 趣 少 ， 此 鸟 不再 兴 冲 冲 。 悲 喜 无 人 可 分 享 ， 传 呼 不 在 真 扫 兴 。 何 况 须 学 新 本 领 ， 谋 生 终 要 有 技 能 。 此 鸟 时 年 已 不 惑 ， 可 怜 兮 兮 老 学 童 。 小 鸟 开 始 怀 故 土 ， 优 哉 游 哉 一 书 生 。 同 类 相 怜 常 见 面 ， 过 年 过 节 有 亲 朋 。 夜 夜 遥 望 北 斗 星 ， 心 中 想 念 毛 泽 东 。 盼 望 老 头 施 援 手 ， 救 我 小 鸟 出 泥 坑 。 奇 树 之 乡 不 好 玩 ， 莫 若 安 居 在 家 中 。 中 土 之 大 万 物 备 ， 夫 子 可 乐 相 携 行 。 小 鸟 低 首 长 叹 息 ， 双 翼 疲 弱 不 禁 风 。 半 生 迁 徙 心 已 老 ， 余 力 可 再 一 航 程 ？

Memories, adapting a Chinese song

midnight, fishing boats
slumbering with faint lights
shining on a sleepless soul.
foggy is the river
just like by-gone days, dust all over.
do you still have your smiling face? I wonder,
after so many years of oblivion.
today in this sleepless night,
you appear in my sight.
the moon sinks, and ravens crow,
an old scroll thousands of years ago.
the same waves, the same songs,
not the same moment to right our wrongs.
me and you, can we start anew?
will you ferry me over,
a passenger no more?

Aug. 9, 1997, Fredericton

此诗述<<涛声依旧>>歌意。

Crying for Yangtze

----after reading "China's Three Gorges" in September's National Geographic

哭扬子江

with the soul of the poet of Ch'u
I roam in Sichuan
what I see is bare rocks
and iron claws and steel arms
tearing down the green mountains
and wipe out the picturesque Gorges
replacing them
with huge cement blocks
携楚骚人的灵魂， 我浪迹巴蜀。满目是裸露的岩石， 和铁爪钢臂。它们撕扯着山的碧绿， 将如画的江峡抹去， 代之以水泥的巨石。

I hate those tourist boats
sending people to an execution ground
to watch the beheading of Yangtze
and savor the tyranny of development
and the helplessness of grassroots
我恨透了那些游船，送人们去那屠场，看扬子江怎样被宰割，品味发展 的淫威和草根的无助。

tragic more are the buildings
high in the "new town"
same color, same design
like containers docked in a harbor
ready to load the displaced souls
into a strange land
更可怜那高筑在“新城”的楼房，一样的颜色， 一样的格局， 如同码头上的集装箱， 将背井离乡的生灵， 送往不属于自己的地方。

helplessly, farmers have to
carry their furniture on bare backs
like the Indians of South America
carrying white people over mountain roads
with helplessness carved on their face
没办法的农民， 在赤裸的背上负着自己的家当， 如同南美洲的印地安人， 当年肩背着白人在山道上。 一样的无奈， 刻在脸上。

silent ancient temples,
not knowing their fate
stand sadly, offering the last chance
of being worshiped
their gods are also speechless
庙宇沉默着， 不知明天的命运。 悲哀地， 向朝拜者奉献最后的进香机会。诸神也默不作声。

saying farewell to her home and
the fertile land and familiar life
the girl, tear in eyes, laments her
memories of childhood
nothing can comfort her
向家乡告别， 向丰腴的土地和熟悉的生活告别， 女孩的眼泪， 哀伤着童年的回忆。 什么都难以排解。

to materialize the dream of a modern emperor
who wanted to be greater than the First One
to set up a monument to an official
whose name is smeared in history
this butchering of the Three Gorges
started earlier than expected
leaving archeologists hurrying
to compile a list of rescue
(that never gets a reply from the State Council)
and driving 2 million people
like ants pursued by a lava torrent

为了实现一个想超越始皇的现代君主的梦想， 为了一个历史上名染污渍的官吏树碑立传，对长江的肢解， 开始得比预料要急。考古学家们只得匆匆呈上拯救文物的清单 (如石沉大海)。两百万人民，慌慌张张地离开家园， 象蚂蚁被岩浆驱赶。

when rulers are not benevolent
people are but grass figurines
that can be crushed or displaced at will
and they have to say it's good
to sacrifice for the motherland

I cry for Yangtze,
the river of my home
in the middle of China
I used to swim in it
I used to drink from it
I used to sail on it
and I used to sit by it
to watch the setting sun
sending his orange glow
over the ripples of the river
and the graceful bridge
shouldered by the Snake and the Tortoise*
under the gaze of the Yellow Crane

I used to go up stream
into the mountainous land
to watch the hanging coffins
and listen to the monkeys
and the shouting of boatmen
echoing each other

I used to search the beautiful lady**
on top of a peak
half hidden by clouds that
cover her face like thin gauze
Is she willing to be gazed upon
at a closer distance?

Aug. 15, 1997 Fredericton

* Two hills on both sides of Yangtze that are joined by the Wuhan Yangtze Bridge.

** A rock in the shape of a famale on one of the Three Gorges peaks.

Ancient Poems Rewritten

1. A Defeated Ruler

After Li Yu, emporor and poet

Time has nothing to offer but spring blossoms and autumn moon;
It takes away for ever memories of days gone by.
Last night my little mansion received east wind again;
To seek my lost land in bright moon, I was too shy.
Things should be as they were, the carved rails, the marble terraces,
Only my fair may have lost her color.
Don't you ask me how sad I am feeling now,
Behold, with spring flood, east flows the River.

2. An Army General

After Fan Zhongyan, writer and poet

Scenes change as autumn comes to the border land
No mood to stay, geese fly to the warmer climate
All around me, bugles chant their border songs
Among the mountains
A rising column of smoke, a setting sun, a closed solitary town
A cup of poorly brewed wine mirrors a home far
Over the frosty land, tunes of normad flutes linger
Victory not at hand, I see no date to withdraw
My soul sleepless
A gray-haired man, an army general, tears of a soldier

3. Philosophizing on Life

After Yuan Haowen (1190--1257)

Old trees, deserted terraces
A touching scene of autumn.
Leisurely I drink a cup to myself.
My gray temples
Foretell the senility of autumn
And the haggardness of nature.
A half-worn heart is more prone to feelings.
Seeing grand mansions falling into decay,
I believe only those in the land of drunkenness
Can be happy.

Sailing a vast span of water,
I survey a vast land.
The moon is my candle,
And cloud my tent.
A hundred rivers of brew
Not enough to fill my cup.
What's the use of an empty name?
The ancients were wrong, I am wronger.
Monkeys of wilderness! Birds in the mountains! Come and sing:
So long! Bye-bye!

4. Fisherman

Adapting Lu You (1125-1209)

A fishing rod of wind and moon,
A reed coat in smoky rain,
I live to the west where I fish.
My catch is sold but away from the city,
You think I care for a world dusty?
I take my oars when tide is in,
I moor my boat when tide is out,
With tide gone I sing my way home.
They think I am a meditator,
Nay, I am a nameless fisher.

Aug. 31, 1997

5. Solitary Abode

Adapting Su Shi, prose writer and poet

A chipped moon on leafless tree,
Quietness reigns as clock drips dry.
Walking in solitude a hermit who sees?
Shadow of a lone goose vague.
Startled, she turns her head,
Her heart felt by no one.
Of the cold branches she chooses none,
Chilly is the lonely land.

Aug. 31, 1997

A Man's Heart

Adapting Feng Yanyi (904--960)

For days she has gone, where is she now?
she has forgotten her return date,
Not knowing spring's coming to end.
This Clear Bright Day on a road of grass and flower,
To whose tree is her fragrant cart tied?
Tear in eyes, I murmur by the window:
Ever seen her, have you?
There are the twin swallow.
Spring sorrow flies with flower of willow,
In my long dream, her face doesn't show.

Aug. 31, 1997 Fredericton, Canada

After Li Qingzhao, female poet

Gone with the wind is the dusty fragrance of flowers;
Tired of the mirror is my heart.
When life is no longer the same while things still are,
Tear comes first before a word is said.
Hearing that spring is nice on the Double Stream,
I want to peddle a light boat there,
Only fearing that the tiny boat of the Double Stream,
Can't bear the weight of my sorrow.

Second version:

The dusty fragrance of flowers gone with the wind,
Tired is my heart of the mirror.
When life decays while time lasts,
My words unsaid, my tear is out.
Hearing that scenes are nice on the Double Stream,
A boatI want to row.
Yet I fear the light boat of the Double Steam,
Can't bear so much sorrow.

Sept. 17, 1997

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.

Sept. 14, 1997 Fredericton

Three Poems of Maritimes

1. Alone at at a Cliff Cottage

The storm over
Fog
blurrs the boundary
between the ocean and the sky
and paints them
in a huge brush
of mono-color.
Beads of rain
hang still on the titanic window
of the house
seperating my gaze
and the colorful flowers
now drooping wet.
The forever grounded boat
greedily holds fast
pockets of rain
caught on its body.
Its paddle
lies crippled
beside a broken bough.

1 暴风雨后
雾抹去了海与天的分野
用单一的颜色将它们涂抹
房子的大窗户上
还挂着雨珠
把我的凝视与外边湿耷耷的花
隔离开来
永远不在下海的木船
贪婪地守住
滞留在它身上的一洼洼雨水
残废了的桨
靠在断了的龙骨上

2. The Legend of a Broken Rock

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.

3. Loch Lomond

Dat shy an' quiet gal,
Loch Lomond,
Loch Lomond,
She dodges me every time
I come in Ole Belly's car.
I come in Ole Belly's car,
To wuk fu 'is cottage.

Ole Belly's got a cottage
Around dat bend of de road
Dat runs opposite St. Martin's
And hides in de depth of trees.

Everytime I pass Loch Lomond,
I see de road sign only,
And catch a glimps of her water,
Soft as emerald gauze.

Ole Belly never stops dere.
He stops at de airpor' gas,
To be waited by a stout lady
With toast, bacon and eggs.

He stops dere fu breakfast
As late as eleven o'clock,
And reads de Zeller's ad,
And draws a list of buys.

Den we hurry to his cottage
Messy as an age-old sty.
Dere we dust an' paint an' sweep,
Smelling de shit of mice.

Den we sit in 'is stinky car
Full of sticky rusty pennies
To go shopping in de village store
He holding 'is falling pants.

One day we passed Loch Lomond.
"It's a pretty name, " I said.
"It sounds like a Chinese word
That means 'romantic dreams'."

Old Belly laughed like a lobster,
'cause he no knew words Chinese.
The beautiful sound of "Lomond,"
Was fiddle played to cows.

Weekend o'er, we tired and go home
Sometimes in a melancholy rain.
I can't afford no sleep in de car,
'Cause I wanna see her again.

Aug. 17, 1998

THINKING OF TREES

Life is like trees that change colors
From fresh green to reddish brown to pale yellow
And it is fast! Yesterday's sunny sky
Can be heavy with wet snow overnight

Sudden changes of things make us moody
And speculative about the meaning of life
Empty we feel all the labours of men
When finally Heaven destroys all

As we look back, we repent our wrongs
And beg forgiveness from those we offended
But who can redeem us, except the omnipotent
The Tao of universe, or the Lord of heaven

Trees rejuvenate, men do not
When our shells decay, to dust they go
What remain are the photo albums
Like dry leaves put away and then forgotten

Things past scatter like clouds
Into the void of sky they disappear
And rejoin at some unkown moment
Without recognizing each other
Someday, a chancy discovery of some dry leaves
In an antiquarian book of yellow pages
Will tell a story that no one can confirm
To a young heart.

Oct. 27. 1997, written at UNB library, seeing the first snow of 1997.

Reading in Kings Place

I'm reading in Kings Place
Watching wind
Diluting the sun
In mid-autumn
And forecasting the menance
Of my first Canadian winter

Inside it's warm
With late morning coffee drinkers
Senior citizens of a
Leisurely-paced town
Sipping, gossiping, blankly staring

The lone maple tree
At the Canadian Trust
Refuses to turn red
Its golden leaves
Shine stubbornly

(Printed in The Brunswickan)

Sonnet, if you call it

Printed in The Brunswican. Feb. 7, 1997

Exhortation on Filial Piety

---------Being an interpretive translation of a poem in Mei's Restaurant in Fredericton.

Who can be dearer than our parents?
Who else deserves our filial piety?
A drop of respect paid to our parents
Invites a sea of love from our posterity
Someday one may become a millionaire
Yet his parents are not readily bought
Parents enjoying centennials are rare
Negligence of duty leads to sad thought
Why not serve them when they are healthy?
Why wait and then visit their lonely grave?
Harsh words do make our parents unhappy
They can't be recalled when buried in a cave.

Then one has no way to see one's mother
His repenting soul will forever linger

1998.9 Fredericton

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