How sometimes, we’re prone to, take things, too, personally, even IF, they weren’t, directed, toward us, the column by Jimmi Liao, translated by me…
The Wind Blew Past the Clouds, the Clouds, Floated on. The Wind Blew Across the Coconut Trees, the Coconut Swayed.
The Wind Blew Past Me, I’d Started, Shivering. The Wind, Hated Me
the artwork of Jimmi Liao, courtesy of UDN.com
So, this is, taking things, too personally, it isn’t even directed toward you, but because you’re, way too, sensitive, you feel, offended, and that’s nobody’s fault, ‘cuz that’s just, how you were, raised, or that it is a part of your, inborn, characteristics…
A poem by Makoto Ooka, translated to Chinese by someone, then to English, by me, on how innocence can be, and is, lost…
The Heartless Man
Passed through the Sumida River in Winter
Facing the Loveless, the Birdless
Universe
The Man without the Least Bits of Courage
Stuffed His Lungs with Tar
In the Sunset Desperation of the Sumida River
Washing the Young Child’s Hair
I’d Gone Through the Long Journey
That Can’t be Calculated Even if I Spent Thirty Years
Alone
With Women Who Had, Fallen Left, and, Right
With that Kindness that Belonged to the Conqueror Which I Cannot Believe to be Truth
Nor Believe with the Levels of Deceit
The Maliciousness that Came from Within
Please At Least
Everybody, Don’t Touch
The Untouched, the Clean
That’s Coming into, Being from it all
Because everything else had been, tainted, this, is what you do, to try and preserve, that untainted innocence, and yet, you won’t be able to, as the world is, filled with a ton of badness, how can you, possibly, prevent something that’s newborn, that’s innocent, to not get, contaminated, you simply, can’t.
So, this is on how you think you will have, all those, tomorrows you will ever get, until you don’t have that many, tomorrows left…translated…
Sometimes, happiness isn’t here,
And it’d, come over on the wind.
Sometimes, You Feel Spaced Out,
Because You’d, Forgotten How the Blanks Tolerated All the Colors.
the painting of the writer…courtesy of UDN.com
When You Daydream in Your Dreams,
Love Start Fermenting,
The Years Won’t Repeated Themselves,
Other Than How the Flowers Bloom in the Warming up of Weather During Springtime Each and Every Year.
So, this is on how as long as we have breaths still inside our bodies, we will keep on having hopes, hopes for a better life for us and those whom we care for an love, a better future for all.
The rains, they’d not come as much as past years. Every time it’d rained, the smell of the rain, got into the air, cut me off from my concentration.
The rainy seasons.
The sights that were burned by the sun, became the multilayered dimensions under the rain.
The sounds of the rain.
The sounds of the rain pouring down put out the calls of the cicadas, the barks of the stray dogs, and they focused on pouring down hard, wet my poetry too.
The scenes in the rain.
It’d made me realized my three-dimensional, the me that’s currently breathing, not the me that’s, wandered off. The space I’m in, the lungs that were filled and emptied, the wild lilies that bid farewell to their stamens, with their colors brighter now.
Only a sudden onset of rain can achieve this. The sun’s rays made all of these too matter-of-fact, in the eastern side of this island, with a lot of sunshine, he was the collective of the dark clouds gathering up in the skies; the foot of the clouds hiked over the Central Mountain Range, gathered enough precipitation, with its full stomach, arrived to the plains, then, suddenly, the rumbling, and let it all out, made this, seemingly, extra-ordinary thunderstorm.
photo from online
The timings of rain.
The rain became stationary in that sense of time. The heavens, earlier, already, lifted up the curtains of rain, drenched those on the western side of the mountains. We start falling, in the time zone differences of the rain.
On my way to the café, the rain hit the twenty-three ribs of a city in Hubei. One of ribs had fallen and gotten lost on the roads, and it’d sung loud in the pouring rain.
And, this is very imaginative, there’s that sense of freshness that this writer gave to death and dying, and the rain symbolized the renewal from death, of how things still keep on going, as deaths are happening, all around where we live right now.
On what we surround ourselves, is what our lives, become, the column by Jimmi Liao, translated by me…
Allowing the Flowers to Take Over My Home, Then, there Would be the Visitors of Flowers, the Neighbors of, Flowers too, and, Life Will Become, ever the More, Colorful.
the artwork of Jimmi Liao, off of UDN.com
We are, the company we keep…
This showed, how we are, interactive, how we’re, involved with our external environment, whether or not we like to admit to it, no matter what, the outside, our externalities, will have an affect on our lives.
How hard it is, to, leave it all behind, everything that’s, happened, in our lives, too hard to, let go, a poem, translated…
You can Choose Sorrows
Floating Along that River
Get into, the Hard-to-Handle
You Can, Participate in the Secrets of the Sun
That Celebration of Midnight that Goes on
In the City
breaking the hold that the past has on us…photo from online
Naturally, Climbing Upward
Finding that the Buildings All Around You
Grew Taller as You’d Climbed Higher, and Higher
You Entered that Marketplace
Where People Made the Sounds of the Sunlight Loud:
With the Postcards of Barcelona,
The Handcrafted Gadgets with that Foreign Feel to Them
And that Young Lady Who’d Handed You, a Piece of Candy
All the Times Froze, Halted, Right at This, Very, Moment.
Halted at the Moment You’d Heard the Breaths of the Oceans
As You’d Walked Next to the Waves that Rolled in
Pulling out that Pathway Home to You
Wave after Wave after Wave
Time is a Stream, that Carelessly, Got Lost, in the Streams that Flowed Along
You Can, Choose Your Own Path
Be With Your Selves
Severing the Rain and the Fog, Severing the Tribe too
That Held You Tightly, in Its, Embrace
The Days Closest
Stiffened, & Cold Now
You Can, Put it Back Where You’d Found it
Like How that Friend of Yours
The News of His Lifting Off
On that, Rocket
This is on, leaving it all behind, the past, everything that’s, happened to us, but, this is, next to, impossible, because all these moments of our pasts, are what made us, into, who we, currently are, and, there’s just, NO way we can, be rid of that, no matter how hard we try, we can run, but we will, NEVER, EVER, escape from it.
Grateful for the subsection of the UDNPapers, that’s brought us so many knowledge, shared memories, and a ton, of wonderful things, to enrich our daily lives, translated…
I loved reading the subsections of the paper like a book, especially the D2 sections of the UDNPapers, there are the writers from all walks of life that were printed on here, and, an assortment of contents, naturally. I’d recalled that one time, the editor’s office asked the medical staff members to write the stories of the giant white towers, it’d captivated the readers’ attentions, making us want to read, reread, and reread over, over, and over again. The “Secret Headquarters of the Car Wash” that got started this year is also, attention-catching, the writer can tell how the owners of the cars he’d washed and repaired lived from the cars that were dropped off, this was totally, magical to me.
something to do, EVERY, day…
The other four columns that were also my favorite aside from this one: in “Animals on Stage”, I’d felt the strong emotional connections the writers felt toward the animals they have. In “A Treasure Map of Memories”, I’d noted the different ways of life the various age groups of people have, and, they’d offered a fun comparison to my own life experiences. And I’d loved the seasonal writers who’d written for the Youth Column, they’d used their words, recorded down the lives in their own separate professions, although these are smaller in sizes, but, covering a wide spectrum of topics, eye opening, truly. And for the “Topics of Discussion” columns, although these came in smaller passages, they are all, eye-catching. The same things that’s happened in the lives of various people, produced, different stories, with the different enlightenments from their separate, stories.
That’s how this subsection of the paper works, like a professor with a wide spectrum of knowledge, fulfilling my curiosities every single day, enriching my life, adding more fun to my ordinary days.
I’m grateful for the editor of the subsection of the papers, to allow the readers, to read in their, separate corners, to know what’s going on all around us, to get soaked up in the wonders, of interactions of words of exchange.
And so, this, is a sort of a thank you note this writer wrote to the subsection of the papers, and, surely, this subsection of the papers, offered a wide variety of reading materials for those who are interested in finding out new things they want to find out, it has the experiences of others we can borrow from, and, it’s just, an amazing section of the UDN papers here.
The Wavelength that Passed Through the Collar of the Asteroid Belt of the Aging Dog of the Astronomer
The Blue Whale’s Lowered Whispers with the Trashed Submarine
Gave the Bay a Glow
I Lifted My Head up to the Darkness
Who Was it
That Forgot, to Turn the Lights within Our Bodies, Off
On the Shoulders of the General
That Invisible Kitty, Pounced on the Firing Squad from Before He Was, Still, Living
(The Songs of Sorrows from the Beginning
The Assets Immaterial in the Very End)
These Stanzas of the Poems, Shall Get Beyond What’s Been Destroyed Between You & Me, Sailing, All the Way, into, the, Skies
And so, this is on what’s left, after everything go, BOOM! What remained, of the love, of the life that’s, gone, what is taken from the examples of these lives, lived………
The column by Jimmi Liao, on the calming words of reassurance, offered to a young child, translated by me…
The Cloud Rocked Me in its Arms,
Hummed that Lullaby,
Don’t Worry Little Baby, Fret Not Little Baby
The Clouds are Light, the Wind Gentle, Everything Will be, All Right………
the artwork of Jimmi Liao, off of UDN.com
We are all in need, of this sort of a reassurance right now, especially with this whole world currently going crazy, and, the safest place we can find is here, inside our minds, for in our own minds, we are, able to, live on freely, without any worries or fears!
And so, this showed, how the pen IS, mightier than the SWORD, the words touched people, even AFTER they’re done, getting spoken out there, and the influences of words will keep on carrying over…
Mirroring the World 
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