NeverEnding Story
The following haiku and
tanka have all appeared on Chen-ou Liu’s “NeverEnding Story” blog,
with his translations into traditional and simplified Chinese, plus his occasional
commentary. The most recent postings appear first. My gratitude to Chen-ou Liu for welcoming
and translating my poems. All poems have been previously published in other journals,
as indicated (sometimes not indicated).
2 October 2020 crackling beach fire— we hum in place of words we can’t recall The Heron’s Nest 6:11, December 2004 啪啪作響的海灘營火— 在所忘事物之處 我們哼哼低唱 啪啪作响的海滩营火— 在所忘事物之处 我们哼哼低唱 The contrasting auditory images of crackling beach fire and humming is effective, and the humming (in place of words forgotten, not instead of not speaking) enhances the emotional appeal to the reader. the leaf gone
but the imprint remains—
my heart as hard
as this concrete
after your suicide
Red Lights 3:1, 2007
葉子飄落不見
但是它的痕跡依然存在—
在你自殺之後
我的心就像是混凝土
一樣地堅硬
叶子飘落不见
但是它的痕迹依然存在—
在你自杀之后
我的心就像是混凝土
一样地坚硬
The contrasts (leaf gone vs. life lost, imprint vs. concrete) between the two parts of the tanka are visually and emotionally poignant, reminding me of the following thought-provoking remark made by my late friend, Brian Zimmer, who died in 2014: “The leaf does not grasp or grieve its last day” (from Spring’s First Caress: Tanka, 2015).
27 June 2020 spring lightning— a flower’s shadow
against the fortress wall
The Heron’s Nest 19:3, September 2017
The Sleepless Planet, Tokyo: Shichigatsu-do, 2018
春天的閃電—
堡壘牆上一朵花
的陰影
春天的闪电—
堡垒墙上一朵花
的阴影
Enhanced by the cinematic zoom-in technique, a moment of fragile beauty is keenly captured in this imagistic haiku.
17 June 2020 warm summer night— our first kiss lingers long enough for the lighthouse beam to flash again Red Lights 3:1, 2007 溫暖的夏天夜晚— 我們的初吻 持續足夠久的時間 燈塔的光束 再一次閃爍 温暖的夏天夜晚— 我们的初吻 持续足够久的时间 灯塔的光束 再一次闪烁 Line one sets the scene and mood while the symbolically rich and visually evocative image of flashing beams of light in lines four and five enhances the emotionally suggestive power of the “first kiss” in line two. A fresh and passionate “first kiss” tanka. 5 November 2019
26 June 2019 13 June 2019 a wisp of snow curls in from the door— the bookstore cat settles at last in the poetry section Mariposa #36, Spring/Summer 2017 一縷雪 從門口飄進來— 書店的貓 終於在詩集部門之處 安定下來了 一缕雪 从门口飘进来— 书店的猫 终于在诗集部门之处 安定下来了 The upper verse sets the scene and seasonal context while the unexpected yet thematically significant last line shows the comforting power of poetry. And “at last” in line four adds emotional strength to this heartwarming tanka. пласт снега
свернулся у дверей
кот из книжного магазина
наконец-то устраивается
в отделе поэзии
(Russian translation by Nikolay Grankin, posted to Facebook)
29 May 2018 for your eyes only, she says with a shy nod— I think about this then raise a hand to caress her remaining breast Gusts #26, Fall/Winter 2017 她害羞地點頭說， 只是給你的眼睛看— 我想了一下 然後舉起手來撫摸 她所剩下的乳房 她害羞地点头说， 只是给你的眼睛看— 我想了一下 然后举起手来抚摸 她所剩下的乳房 Michael’s tanka builds, line by line, to an unexpected yet visually and emotionally powerful last line that has the most weight, effectively conveying a sense of “tenderness” (which is found “in the tendency to make one’s own the feelings and mental states of another person”). 26 May 2017 only so far onto the beach tracks of a wheelchair Tinywords 15:1, 6 March 2015 + 只有到達這麼遠 海灘上一張輪椅 的胎痕 只有到达这么远 海滩上一张轮椅 的胎痕 24 March 2017 shiny pens and a stapler— no one tells the new hire his desk is where the suicide sat Gusts #17, Spring/Summer 2013 閃亮的鋼筆和訂書機— 沒有人告訴 新員工 他的辦公桌 是自殺前僱員的 闪亮的钢笔和订书机— 没有人告诉 新员工 他的办公桌 是自杀前僱员的 In such a short space of five lines and eighteen words, Michael effectively creates atmosphere (lines one and three) and suspense (line two) in this powerful and disturbing middle-of-the-story of tempestuous office relationships. 20 November 2016 + train depot— a wet leaf clings to the stroller wheel 火車站— 一片濕的葉子緊貼 在嬰兒車輪上 火车站— 一片湿的叶子紧贴 在婴儿车轮上 unused symphony ticket— the price when she was a girl 未用過的交響音樂票— 她是小女孩時 的票價 未用过的交响音乐票— 她是小女孩时 的票价 sapwood— I learn something new about my mother 邊材— 關於母親我有更深一層 的了解 边材— 关於母亲我有更深一层 的了解 21 April 2016 the doctor tells us of the baby’s heart murmur— outside the hospital window snow half way down the distant mountain Honorable Mention, 2006 Tanka Society of America International Tanka Contest 醫生告訴我們 寶寶的心臟有雜音— 在醫院窗外 雪花飄落到遠山 的半山腰之處 医生告诉我们 宝宝的心脏有杂音— 在医院窗外 雪花飘落到远山 的半山腰之处 14 March 2016 a firefly’s glow against her palm passed to mine Tinywords 11:1, 12 April 2011 螢火蟲的光芒 對照著她的手掌 再傳到我的手掌 萤火虫的光芒 对照着她的手掌 再传到我的手掌 24 December 2015 jingle of the dog’s collar out in the hall— we pause in our lovemaking, Christmas Eve American Tanka #11, 2007 狗頸圈的鈴鐺聲 迴盪在大廳裡— 我們暫停 做愛， 平安夜來臨了 狗颈圈的铃铛声 迴盪在大厅里— 我们暂停 做爱， 平安夜来临了 Michael’s sensual tanka effectively builds, phrase/line (ku) by phrase/line (ku), to an unexpected yet emotionally powerful ending—Christmas Eve. And the opening and closing lines resonate and extend each other’s meanings. A sensually fresh take on Christmas tanka. 14 January 2015 children’s
book
sh
elves
Best of Showcase, Under the Bashō, 2013 (also published previously) 兒
童
書
加
木
儿
童
书
加
木
This minimalist visual haiku is made up of two words: children’s bookshelves, and Michael’s thematically and emotionally effective typographical arrangement of bookshelves—book, sh (an exclamation to request silence or quiet), elves (plural form of elf)—not only holds the surprise and excitement of the poem, but also adds mythological depth to the poem. Below is excerpted from the Wikipedia entry on “elf”:
27 October 2014 another feeding— again we count his fingers and toes and they’re all still there Rivet #13, June 2005 再一次餵食— 我們再度數算 他的手指和腳趾 它們都安然 健在 再一次餵食— 我们再度数算 他的手指和脚趾 它们都安然 健在 The collocation of “another feeding” and “again we count/ his fingers and toes” is emotionally effective, showing readers the meaning of parenthood. 7 October 2014 by Ki no Tomonori (translated by Emiko Miyashita and Michael Dylan Welch) ひさかたのひかりのどけき春の日にしづ心なく花の散るらん 紀友則 hisakata no hikari nodokeki harunohi ni shizugokoro naku hana no chiruran Ki no Tomonori
is so mild this spring day only the cherry blossoms keep falling in haste— why is that so? Back Cover Tanka, Ribbons, 8:1, Spring/Summer 2012 (also published previously) 陽光瀰漫 這個春天如此地溫和 只有櫻花 不斷匆忙地飄落— 為什麼會這樣呢 ? 阳光瀰漫 这个春天如此地温和 只有樱花 不断匆忙地飘落— 为什麽会这样呢 ? Lines one to four are a simple statement of the narrator’s observation while line five, the rhetorical question, lifts the poem a notch, sparking the reader’s reflection on the ephemerality of beauty. 7 October 2014 foreclosure notice— an ice cream truck comes and goes Frogpond 36:3, Autumn 2013 房屋止贖通知— 流動冰淇淋車 來了又走了 房屋止赎通知— 流动冰淇淋车 来了又走了 I think there’s a deeper sadness to the contrast between the necessity of housing and the treat of ice cream. And perhaps, too, the foreclosure will come and go like the ice cream truck, and maybe things will be better down the road. Maybe someone would argue that there is a cause-and-effect reason why the ice cream truck comes and goes: it’s because no one in the foreclosed/empty house comes out to buy ice cream). I don’t think so. It’s mainly because the ice cream truck owner doesn’t just come to one house—he drives his ice cream truck through neighborhoods for potential buyers. 31 July 2014 ink-stained hands my pen leaks a haiku ant ant ant ant ant #2, Summer 1995 墨染的手 我鋼筆流漏出 一首俳句詩 墨染的手 我钢笔流漏出 一首俳句诗 Juxtaposed with the image of messy hands, Michael’s well-chosen verb makes this meta-poem about writing effective as a haiku with an aesthetic focus on the “hai.” 7 March 2014 spring breeze— the pull of her hand as we near the pet store Into the Open: Poems from Poets of the Sixth Skagit River Poetry Festival, 2010 (also published previously) 春風起— 當我們走近寵物店 她輕拉我的手 春风起— 当我们走近宠物店 她轻拉我的手 27 June 2013 a table for one— leaves rustle in the inner courtyard Into the Open: Poems from Poets of the Sixth Skagit River Poetry Festival, 2010 (also published previously) 一人用餐— 在庭院內 樹葉的沙沙聲 一人用餐— 在庭院内 树叶的沙沙声 A sense of loneliness (or aloneness) conveyed in the context-setting first line is enhanced by the seasonal connotation of the aural image portrayed in lines two and three, which work effectively on at least two levels, literal and metaphoric. The place metaphor (“inner courtyard”) is well chosen. 1 February 2013 first star— a seashell held to my baby’s ear Into the Open: Poems from Poets of the Sixth Skagit River Poetry Festival, 2010 (also published previously) 第一顆星— 將一個海貝貼近 我嬰兒 的耳朵 第一颗星— 将一个海贝贴近 我婴儿 的耳朵 The perceptual shift foregrounds the contrasts between the two parts of the poem. And the speaker shows his/her tender care in an effort to help the baby form an intimate relationship with nature. 8 January 2013 spring breeze— the pull of her hand as we near the pet store Into the Open: Poems from Poets of the Sixth Skagit River Poetry Festival, 2010 (also published previously) 春風起— 當我們走近寵物店 她輕拉我的手 春风起— 当我们走近宠物店 她轻拉我的手 Line one successfully sets the scenic context for the poem while lines two and three reveal an emotional undercurrent. |