April 22

In the park, at the town square,
wherever there is a fountain, a giant whale is trapped beneath it.
There she is, in the dark, unable to move for many years,
When she breathes and shoots out a spout,
what a marvel to see. The giant whale is a small world by herself,
no cries, perhaps no suffering, either.
We stroll leisurely over her back;
as she blows, we revel at the beauty of the fountain
and gradually forget about her.

The ripples inside the tree
grow and spread,
but no one saw the perpetrator who cast the stone
to create them.

Under the tree, one heard cicadas and rain;
a dog wandered by and lifted his hind leg;
lovers embraced, parting four lips;
but the thunderclap didn't break the trunk,
though a rumble was heard...

What a tender heart it has,
as if made by a heavenly touch!
Let's lay a needle on its groove
to feel, to hear
time’s recording

Copyright: Journal of 21st Century Chinese Poetry, ISSN 2166-3688
http://modernchinesepoetry.com

Wednesday afternoon,
I drank four cups of tea
and dozed off three times.
It is called Spring Blossom green tea;
it tastes a little bitter.
Wednesday afternoons, I join colleagues
around a round table to drink tea.

Tea does not detoxicate,
or purify the mind;
Spring Blossom Tea is kept in a tea-tin,
until it loses all human touch.
It is served at every single weekly meeting,
meetings so serious they resemble
newspaper text ‘set solid’.

Wednesday afternoons
are not tile-roof, paper-window afternoons.
They are not clear-spring, pottery-and-china afternoons.
I join my colleagues in a cup of strong tea.
We drink alone, in the meeting room,
and become a flock of wooden chickens.

Copyright: Journal of 21st Century Chinese Poetry, ISSN 2166-3688
http://modernchinesepoetry.com

She knows in November my eyes
will gain a little more depth.
She comes to see me then.

Every year when November comes, she grows a little uneasy.
She knows my eyes on such days
will have a deeper shade.

In November, the sky is almost empty, few birds are overhead.
I know on such days, eyes gains a little more depth,
not just mine but everyone else’s.
”Let me have a look at you? ” She holds my face up.
”Ah…”
It’s as if a big bird, beating its wings, is diving into
the deep pool of my eyes.

“Is it a bird?”
I can’t really tell,
but I feel that it reaches very deep.

She always looks at me so quietly. She must be able to see
I become a little more shriveled every year…

Copyright: Journal of 21st Century Chinese Poetry, ISSN 2166-3688
http://modernchinesepoetry.com

A man and a woman—
it's like a traffic accident
between an old car and an even older car.
The old street had been rerouted,
so they met at the new freeway exchange one day.
During a traffic jam, they collided
— he and she —
like two vehicles.

The promises were the first to be broken,
but lies will live another day
with growing disappointments.
The sky looks shattered through the windshield,
and dealing with loss will devour half of the spring.
In the dark, secrets and pangs of desire
all come to the fore, again and again.
Who knows how to navigate the maze of traffic rules?

It hurts because of the commitment,
but once again it proves the weakness of the human will.
After one bloody injury: from the nerve ends to the brain,
even the flesh contracted anxiety disorder.
Speeding, red lights, one-way streets, traffic tickets—
a love affair has become a mad maneuver—
no ambulance but time can come to their rescue.

They are two survivors.
Can he realign?
Can she be less suspicious of the car's reliability?
She has become the most careful driver,
worried about wrecking her second-hand car.

Copyright: Journal of 21st Century Chinese Poetry, ISSN 2166-3688
http://modernchinesepoetry.com

Four tenths cooked rice, three tenths vegetables,
two tenths beans, one tenth meat
is my unvarying life.

Domestic life, fully itemized.
I love you, too, up to a pound.

One tenth kindness and scorn,
two tenths getting together and breaking up,
three tenths not giving up, still leaves four tenths.
I am writing you a lyric poem.

Nothing compares to these four tenths,
I use four tenths to win me a fair lady.

Copyright: Journal of 21st Century Chinese Poetry, ISSN 2166-3688
http://modernchinesepoetry.com