NeverEnding Story
The following haiku, senryu, 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). Some commentaries have been very lightly edited.
ink stain
on the pillow slip—
what else but write
can I do
while you’re gone
Tangled Hair, 2, 2000
墨漬
在枕套上—
當你不在的時候
除了寫作之外
還有什麼事我可以做
墨渍
在枕套上—
当你不在的时候
除了写作之外
还有什么事我可以做
Michael’s tanka effectively builds, poetic phrase/line by poetic phrase/line, to a thematically significant and emotionally powerful ending that reveals the theme of writing as a way of easing the pain of loneliness (as indicated in lines 3 through 5, the last of which has the most weight). And the following tanka could be read as a sequel:
waking half way
through the day
half the sunshine
half the pain
—still time for a poem
Helen Buckingham, Little Purple Universes, 2011
foreclosure—
the skull of something
in the crawlspace
The Heron’s Nest 18:2, June 2016 +
房屋止贖通知 . . .
某種東西的頭骨
在房屋底層的爬行空間
房屋止赎通知 . . .
某种东西的头骨
在房屋底层的爬行空间
This fresh, ghostly, and effective juxtaposition makes the foreclosed house in line one function thematically and visually like an abandoned house haunted by a ghost, one that can be inferred from lines two and three. This is a fine “haiku noir,” different from another of Michael’s foreclosure haiku below, one that could be read as a prequel:
foreclosure notice—
an ice cream truck
comes and goes
Frogpond 36:3, Autumn 2013 (this poem is also translated below, for 7 October 2014)
dew on the morning paper—
grass blades
unbending
The Heron’s Nest 4:2, February 2002
早報上的露水—
青草葉
並未彎曲
早报上的露水—
青草叶
并未弯曲
The juxtaposition of dew (forming early in the morning) on the morning paper (on one’s front lawn in a suburban neighborhood) and unbending grass blades (which means not a damp morning) is visually and emotionally evocative. This is a fine imagistic sketch from suburban life in the early morning with no human intrusion. Michael’s shasei [sketch from life] haiku works well as a mood poem.
[What’s not stated in the commentary is that the grass blades are unbending from a previously bent position because I’ve just picked up the newspaper from that grass, which is damp, and that there is human “intrusion” because I mean to imply that I’ve just picked up the newspaper. The commentary seems to have missed my primary implication, but of course implication in haiku always risks the possibility that readers might not pick up on the intended suggestion.]
funeral’s end—
a whisper passed
from ear to ear
Bundled Wild Flowers, 2020 [Haiku Society of America anthology] +
葬禮結束—
流言
傳來傳去
葬礼结束—
流言
传来传去
Line one sets the theme and mood while lines two and three reveal something “unpleasant” about the deceased person or his/her family members or the relationships among them, or the relationships among the deceased person, his/her family and friends, and relatives . . . or “just something about Human Nature.” This guessing game or this reader’s interpretations function like a chain of gossip/whispers.
late show on TV—
I finish cleaning up
for the cleaning lady
Tinywords 16:1, 1 April 2016
深夜電視節目—
我做完清理
清潔女工的工作
深夜电视节目—
我做完清理
清洁女工的工作
Michael’s shasei haiku [I would call it a senryu] is tightly structured with an emotional undercurrent, and the use of repetition, “cleaning,” is thematically significant and emotionally effective: the first one says something about the speaker’s personality/character trait while the second one reveals the cleaning lady’s work ethic.
night jog—
sparks from a train
rounding a turn
Tinywords 11:1, 6 April 2011
夜間慢跑—
火車在轉彎之處
散發出火花
夜间慢跑—
火车在转弯局部
散发出火花
An “ordinary sparkling moment” is keenly captured in this shasei / sketching-from-life, imagistic haiku. And it might be interesting to do a comparative reading of my jogging haiku from NeverEnding Story, 4 March 2019:
a lone runner
silhouetted against the sky
dawn chorus
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).
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.
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.
a week after
my coworker’s suicide
the sculpture on her desk
collapses—magnetic paper clips
that held nothing together
Honorable Mention, 2008 Tanka Society of America International Tanka Contest
我的同事自殺
一個星期之後
她桌子上的雕塑
崩塌—一堆磁性文件夾
無法固定任何的東西
我的同事自杀
一个星期之后
她桌子上的雕塑
崩塌—一堆磁性文件夹
无法固定任何的东西
“Michael Dylan Welch’s sculpture of paper clips—something we have all seen, and may even have on our own desk tops—is turned into a powerful metaphor about the fragility of life, and of individual purpose, in our time . . .” —excerpted from the judges’ commentary +
The following suicide tanka by Michael Dylan Welch could be read as a sequel to his poignant tanka above (also published on 24 March 2017 with Chinese translations—see below):
shiny pens and a stapler—
no one tells
the new hire
his desk is where
the suicide sat
Gusts #17, Spring/Summer 2013
bills due—
in my dream
the endless stairs
Tinywords 18:2, 26 November 2018
賬單到期—
在我的夢中
無盡長的樓梯
账单到期—
在我的梦中
无尽长的楼梯
The visually and emotionally poignant juxtaposition of “bills due” and the “endless stairs” suggests feelings of frustration and even hopelessness.
all my books collect dust
except the one of love poems
you gave me that day
when the spring rains
kept us indoors
Winner, 1992 Tanka Splendor Contest
除了愛情詩集
我所有的書都在堆積灰塵
你給我的那一天
正在下春雨
我們留在室內躲雨
除了爱情诗集
我所有的书都在堆积灰尘
你给我的那一天
正在下春雨
我们留在室内躲雨
This middle-of-the-story tanka is tightly structured with an emotional undercurrent. The only book, a book of love poems, that doesn’t gather dust is the one given by the speaker’s loved one years ago when they were kept indoors due to spring rains. But what has happened between this couple? We don’t know about it. All that we know is this book of love poems constantly read by the speaker.
fox on the trail—
your hand held up
to my chest
Tinywords 15:1, 7 May 2015
狐狸在小徑上—
你的手
緊靠在我的胸口
狐狸在小径上—
你的手
紧靠在我的胸口
A moment of silence and tenderness is well captured in this haiku that is tightly structured with an emotional undercurrent. What’s left unsaid is at least as potent as what’s said.
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)
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”).
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
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.
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
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
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
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.
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”:
An elf (plural: elves) is a type of supernatural being in Germanic mythology and folklore. Reconstructing the early concept of an elf depends almost entirely on texts in Old English or relating to Norse mythology. Later evidence for elves appears in diverse sources such as medical texts, prayers, ballads, and folktales. . . . The “Christmas elves” of contemporary popular culture are of relatively recent tradition, popularized during the late nineteenth-century in the United States. Elves entered the twentieth-century high fantasy genre in the wake of works published by authors such as J. R. R. Tolkien.
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.
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
the light filling the air
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 in 100 Poets: Passions of the Imperial Court (see poem 33), and printed on the back of 150,000,000 U.S. postage stamps in 2012
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.
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.
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.”
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
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.
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.
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.