And no, this is still NOT my picture, found it online…
The winter’s sun managed to
Dry up the dampened verses taped on my back
And, all those who are behind me
All looked upon my back curiously
But, there was just, one child who’d just
Learned to read
Who’d started, reciting the verses on my back
This just shows how pure children are, because, as an adult, we’d been taught, not to do things, that it would be impolite, but, sometimes, it takes a child, to point out to us, the oddities of what’s happening, like that kid in The Emperor’s New Clothes, that pointed out that the emperor wasn’t wearing anything.
A poem, translated…
Knowing You’re Coming
And Gone in a Jiffy, without Sitting Down, for a Cup of Coffee with Me
Just Tapped My Skirt, and You’re Gone
Not Allowing Me to Get a Clear Look at the Chinese Francolin You Rode on
This just shows, how the breezes of spring come and go so quickly, one minute it’s here, and the next, it’s gone, reminds you that you need to take advantage of the N-O-W, doesn’t it???
Leave it to the daytime
The evenings started shaving the food into thin threads
Whose memories, got salted by the gentle sea breezes
The overly cooked nights looked outwards
Only the dying lights from the stars
Sitting down with me
That, is a very interest way, to look at the things you’d currently cooking, isn’t it? And this poet wrote with such vivid imageries too, doesn’t he???
My bridge, the earliest belonged to that of my homeland———
A thin wooden board;
From the coffin that’s slowly rotting away that we’d picked up from the public cemeteries.
Later on, it was, a stick from hauling
Made of a sort of a kind of bamboo
Something that the older farmers used to haul out the grains;
I saw it, carried the land on both sides of the riverbanks
The land from both sides of the riverbanks……
Ever since, I’d decided
My bridge had stayed, inside my heart
A hauling stick, that carried the responsibilities to pass down human history;
That’s never been taken off my shoulders since!
And this, is the moral responsibilities someone had imposed upon her/himself, and, by carrying that load, s/he is carrying one’s life, along with the lives of many others that came before, to help pass down the wisdoms from the older generations, kind of a passing the torch kinda deal.