Sunday, March 22, 2009

美梦 Beautiful Dream – Misty Poem


美梦酝酿五十州, 一丝牵挂醉中眠.
湘水湖畔思神女, 独游云梦卧桃源.
天山冰晶星如斗, 琼海洋溢浪涛天.
此鹏欲展鸿飞翅, 挥翼万里志无边.

Monday, March 16, 2009

Xin Qiji: New Year's Eve

Xin Qiji: New Year's Eve
By Poet Mr. Xin Qiji of Song
Translated by Laijon Liu 20090316

East wind blows,
Thousand fireworks bloom,
Their falling sparks raining in starry sky.

Decorated horses, carved wagons,
And fragrance spread along the road.
Phoenix flutes echoing,
Jade pots spinning their light,
Paper fish and dragons dancing all night long.

Thin moth brows,
Snowy willow shapes,
All dressed in golden silk.
Their perfume goes with their laughter.

And in the numerous crowds
I’ve tried to find her for hundreds times
And suddenly I look back
She is there,
Faraway, beyond the lamplights.

This Southern Song poet (辛棄疾, Xīn Qìjí) (1140 - 1207) was after Su Shi of Northern Song poet. He wrote many poems about nation and patriotic content, due to his whole life was caught in the invasion period of North Empire of Jin. And Southern Song depended on his experience and ability to lead army to protect the empire, yet the emperor didn’t trust him, so he was promoted when the crisis flaming wildly, and demoted when the boarder traffics slowed down. It is difficult to work for someone who don’t trust us. And such heroes are only made when the nation is in crisis, if he lives in a peaceful time, I doubt he may get a green card from the immigration department of Jin Empire.

This poem, from its surface reads like a love poem, someone lingers in a dream, faraway, beyond the lamplights. But poet can also use woman for metaphor of his goal, a dream never accomplished. Even many Chinese would read this as it is a love poem. But there is another meaning beneath it. Poets in Song Dynasty lived like rock stars.

青玉案, 元夕





Sunday, March 15, 2009

What Is Poetry? Poem

What Is Poetry? Poem
By Laijon Liu (Final Edition 20090315 New York)

Poetry pleases my ears
that words sound in harmony,
but not to a foreign tongue.

Poetry draws a picture
to invite my eyes,
but still puzzles my mind.

Poetry blows with wind,
in water He flows,
shouts in thunders,
and bounces as rock in roll.

Poetry preserves His truth,
in secret codes, simple words,
only reveals to the worthy.

Poetry sings in my ears,
dances in front my eyes,
kisses my lips,
brings fragrance,
that fills my mind
and imprints my soul.

Poetry does not like as I like
as whenever I use as like wrongly,
and it is unfair He uses
correctly all times He does,
but I make Him to like
as I do like anyway.

Poetry tells stories
to company my journey,
writes jokes
to convert my tragedy
into a comedy,
and builds a rainbow bridge
where my dream
and reality meet.

Poetry blinded Homer
with Helen and war,
afflicted Catullus
with his love and hate,
taught Beowulf
how to fight!

Poetry made Li Bai drunk
in magical words,
brought sorrows to Du Fu,
so he spoke in painful tones,
convinced Confucius
to collect His words
as his first book,
the Book of Odes.

Poetry invited Shakespeare
to our glamorous stage,
frightened us with the image
in Dante’s hell.

Poetry composed Mozart
painted Picasso,
dropped an apple on Newton,
combed Einstein’s cool hair.

Poetry introduced the Tao
in Lao Zi,
explained the Art of War
in Sun Zi,
shared His sufferings
with Buddha,
works for God
as the way He wills.

I love the poem as Jesus told,
He is the Word,
and He was a man.
He came and left,
born in the stable,
died on the cross,
resurrected in the tomb,
condemned and blessed,
received and rejected.

He is the poetry
who is an only poet.
He brings the life,
tells the truth,
and shows me the way.

Water of living,
Rock of faith,
Promise of hope,
Conqueror of love,
The Poetry is the Poet.

I see poetry on the dirt
that stained the fire fighter’s face.
I see poetry on the blood
that painted the ER angles’ white dress.
I see poetry on the gray hair
of my elementary school’s teachers.
I see poetry on my name
that reminds me a couple’s sacrifice.
I see poetry every time,
I see my love and soul mate.
And I see my poetry running around,
growing up, to be a great poem
as I always dream.

Our image mirrors
in Poetry;
Beasts roam,
birds fly
and fish swim
in Poetry.

Seeds sprout,
grass grow,
flowers blossom,
plants fruit
in Poetry.

Sun shines
in the day,
Moon and stars light
the night
in Poetry.

Ocean gathered,
earth solidifies,
and air purifies
in Poetry.

The light shines
in Poetry,
as the wind blows,
as the water flows,
the Poet composes his poem.

Friday, March 13, 2009

Li Qingzhao: Sorrow

Li Qingzhao: Sorrow
By Poet Ms. Li Qingzhao of Song Dynasty
Translated by Laijon Liu

I search and seek; I search and seek
But it’s just cold and chill; it’s just cold and chill
Misery, grief, and sadness
In this changing season, between warm and cold
Is the most difficult time to sleep

With a few cup of tasteless wine
How could I overcome the gushing wind of eve?
The wild geese have already flown past
But my heart is still longing
And mourning for my past friend

Golden petals shattered, mantled the garden ground
Thin, withered and lost
And now, who would care to pick them up?

Alone, I sit by the window
How shall I get by for the night?
The parasol tree stands in thin rain
Till evening, droplet by droplet
Such scene, is just a word 'Sorrow'
But does it describe all?!

One of the most famous and best Chinese woman poet, Li Qingzhao(1084–1151).
She wrote this poem for her husband (Zhao Mincheng) who died some years ago.

Wild goose is a symbol of messenger in Chinese poetry, that keeps promise, in spring he flies to North and in autumn he flies to South, but people cannot live and fly like wild goose, so poets in history often admire the liberty, ability and promise of wild goose. She also uses two image, shattered petals and parasol tree in thin rain for metaphor of her state.

Her husband, Zhao Mingcheng, before married her, had a dream, that he would marry to a great woman poet, and he begged his father to find the great woman poet according to the sign he saw in his dream. So his father went to his colleague, another court official, also his friend, by the name of Li Gefei, a friend and student of Su Shi. And at that time, most officials recognized that Li Gefei had a most talented daughter, who wrote some great verses, even better than a lot famous poets, and she, Li Qingzhao already famous by the age of 18! Li Qingzhao also heard that Zhao Mingcheng was a good poet and calligraphy artist, so the marriage happily arranged. And she wrote some daring love poems for her husband, and they spent their 10 years happy marriage for collecting and categorizing historical calligraphy record and document, sadly, Zhao died. After that, she mostly lived alone, she was married another guy, a trader, but her second marriage was short, only lasted for 100 days, and she divorced the guy.
What a hero huh? In Song Dynasty, but she lived a 20th century life, set a great example for latter woman poets.

I have a dream that I marry her! Yeah, I wish:-)




Tuesday, March 10, 2009

Angel’s Wings

Angel’s Wings
Laijon liu 20090310

Last night, I dreamt of myself
Growing a pair of wings,
Liked the soft feather of swan,
A snowy flare in a green pond.

But to Lord I urgently prayed,
Not to grow a pair of wings.
I rather had a pair of red eyes,
And using eye drop for whole life.

How could I walk among people
with a pair of feathery wings?
They would call me a freak,
And despise my saintly look.

Would people greet me as an angel?
Or fear me and jail me as a demon?
For I would never see a bright day
Till all my feather are plucked away.

Oh, I never want to be an angel,
And I am scared to grow wings.
For angels are welcomed in dream,
But in world, oh, they must cut off their wings.

Poem Note:
This poem is a record of my dream, a few nights ago.
In my dream I saw myself growing wings, the white feather wings slowly spread out from my back, with bleeding, and some awful smell like being in a chicken barn. I was terrified, and scared to see the daylight, and struggling meditating how could I walk on street, take subway, that moment I decided not to live no more, and suddenly I woke, and seeing myself have no wings. And really happied about it. Oh, only a kid would be happy about dreaming himself as a angel.


昨夜, 我梦到我自己



还是怕我, 把我当作魔鬼, 并将我关押?

噢, 我从不想当天使
但在世间, 唉, 他们必须割掉翅膀.

这是一首梦境的诗.前几夜,在梦中看到我背后长出一对白羽翅膀.一次可怕的经历.我想在世间为人, 比当天使容易多了.

Sunday, March 1, 2009

Duino Elegies by Rainer Maria Rilke

Duino Elegies by Rainer Maria Rilke

I love this poem very much, so I incorrectly edited the way I like, that I feel it is much easier for me to memorize, so I post here. But one may ask me how can I love something so much but don't mind its authenticity? But I know I also do adore roses, wine and women, but do I ever understand them? I guess I only love them the way how I choose to enjoy them:-) a lovely way:-) so too I love the poems, the poets and my dreams, for no need any proof to immensely admire their greatness.

First Elegy


Oh on earth if we cry out,
And in heaven, which angle would respond?
Even if there is one to embrace us, still we would shiver,
For how can we survive in front of his mighty existence?
Oh, beauty is merely our first encounter of terror,
When we can still bear and adore its awesomeness,
That it disdains to wipe out all of us.
For every angel is terrifying.
So we must swallow our own dark sobbing.
But to whom we can ask for help?
Not angels, not people, and the animals?
But the cunning animals have already figured out
That we are not at home,
And what’s left, only the trees,
On the hillside they stand, and we pass by them daily.
Such loyal presence becomes some habits,
That gives us pleasures so we can move on and about.

And the night, o yeah, at night,
When the wind gushing from outer space and licking our faces-
Oh, for whom she would not wait?
This mildly disappointed lady with so much effort,
And her lonely heart has to bear for all her desires.
But is it much easier for lovers?
Ah, we are only trying to manage by staying together,
And hoping that we can somehow survive the conclusion of our fate.
Can we comprehend this?
For we only throw our arms into the empty air
Trying to embrace what we breathe day by day-
Maybe only the birds can feel the airflow
And flip their wings with more passions.