THE KISS OF A POPPY FLOWER
Introduction
The core structure of this poem is as following: The horizontal direction is the city of New York in The United States in comparison with the salt city Zigong of China; The vertical direction is the material world in contrast with the spiritual world, forming the shape of a cross symbolizing redemption, the key content is the conflicts of civilizations and the decay of humanity.
1. The Stone
Old elements, suffusing within the hot burning,
death came one after another as waves, until they were solidified,
decayed acid through the intercourse of materials cooled lava, stones of different shapes,
eroded the soft dreams of land,
like a hand made from steel, to the deep layers of the earth,
or a giant claw of a beast,
grasping the living bulbs on roots tightly,
pinched and crushed all of their cell tissues,
until forced out,
the last drop of red tears.
Through water nonstop pouring on, the gentle touch of thousands of years,
formed those beautiful as well as bright solid petals and buds,
bred themselves continuously on the surface of the earth,
at the same time gradually inserted into the womb of the earth,
the weak beads of tears covering the fresh flowers,
could only slide down on their surfaces,
silently into the soil,
as another feast of worms,
another innocent sacrifice.
What kind of liquid, once shining inside the body of a bright stone,
moisturized its appearance?
transformed it into a brilliant existence of a solid life,
the hard might die because its hard,
the hand of desire, broken the bright stone into pieces,
let them become a part of the dust,
under the chilly stone,
unexpected deaths everywhere,
who destroyed them again after their countless deaths?
Water always walked around, water would never die.
What kind of power
agglutinated the broken stones again ?
became the streets of New York,
the huge shapes of buildings,
under the vast sky,
as stiff guards,
protecting the city,
streets like arteries extending to where footsteps could trample on,
a bright room on a Chelsea street,
who let a man and a woman surrounded by crowds of people,
copulate naked, in the spotlight, biting each other?
for the sake of the dignity of human nature,
under the roots of the transparent glass wall.
Next to Horace Harding Expressway in Queens,
on the second floor of a house,
five people from different places sat themselves down at the same table for a dinner,
they did not care about the vehicles on the highway,
carrying all kinds of people to different destinies,
they never knew the most of them,
would never meet them in the future either.
One person said that he came here from the sea,
originally was with his sister-in-law,
the moment a huge wave came,
saw her knocked off her entire lower body by the strength of two boats,
she shouted: "Help me!"
the Snakehead kicked her into the water,
she disappeared into the body of the sea,
a vortex formed by the liquid.
He calmly narrated,
as if somebody else's story.
2. The Salt
I came from the East,
beneath the soft layer of vegetation,
there were red soil, limestone, veins of rocks,
after washed by the water over and over again,
melted into the sleeping water,
became the colorful psalm of the content of underground water,
nonstop chanted by the mouth of time for,
the material classics separated from materials,
after a long time,
a long time more than time could be calculated,
people put up huge wood structures,
with an extremely long wood stick,
into the bottom of the earth where life could be nurtured,
the integration of the water with soil, limestone, veins of rocks,
took out from the heart of the earth,
under the gaze of the sun,
boiled it over the heat of thousand degrees,
the residues inside the soil, limestone, veins of rocks, differentiated again into a solid condition,
became salt,
memory could not be separated,
an element of life with a bitter history.
Let fire confront fire,
verifying the temperature of fire,
and also verifying the degrees of a life,
wind could have its length,
at the end of the length,
occasionally the fire would be crushed,
became ashes without any temperature.
When we were playing,
although very scared,
still climbed over the tall branches of eucalyptus tree,
with the help of a twig,
knocked down nests of sparrows,
fledglings no feather with red tender bodies,
were rolling on the grass with their lair,
children could not see the horror and mourning inside their eyes,
only heard the subtle echo from the mouths.
3. The Candle
She said she liked the place,
a restaurant near Greenwich Village of New York,
in the night, lights sparkling on the branches of trees between tables,
candle lights reflecting the shadows from the cups of glass,
waitress,
please bring a few cups of bewitched wine,
let passion smash on the demeaning darkness of the night!
for a long time no such a gathering,
you such a lonely pilgrim,
temporarily stop your busy steps,
let the joy of tonight,
wash out the dust of your history.
She came from a very remote country,
as me, for love,
had chased to all corners of the world,
with the regard that love was the highest value of life,
you said that all love might contain the ingredients of pain,
for that was a real standing-fast in life,
in Verona of Italy,
and the gardens of Belgian,
we together had heard the echoes of remote lives,
scars all over the journey.
I could not refuse those biting kisses from the wind of god in extremely cold winter,
and the burning sunshine on my skin as the beating raindrops in hot summer,
I could not refuse on the open streets in the darkness,
walking far and far away, carrying my own heart,
to the wilderness of life, to visit my soul,
pushing the fingers apart, into my own body,
in the splits of the cells
or the orderly arrangements of chromosomes,
detecting the differences between the wonder of emotions and desires,
perhaps they were one,
establishment in destruction,
and destruction in establishment,
but I would not stop,
went to read all the pages of the book,
In the palace of the soul.
4. The Erosion
A girl,
in the early prime of her life,
just like a flower in bloom,
one day she told parents and sisters,
she was going to come to New York
with a group of equally young teenagers,
to eye witness this great city.
The sky of that day was brilliant as usual,
between 42nd Street to 43rd Street on Broadway,
suddenly a truck rushed up,
crushing the panic flows of people on the sidewalk,
screams of terror hit the ground,
hit the eye-catching, huge, beautiful window panes on the skyscrapers around,
death has cut off the veins of her life,
she could have a lot of dreams, a lot of children,
at that moment, has become the most unlikely luxury,
become another number in the countless deaths,
why? she extended her hands from another world.
People, where are you?
woo woo woo woo woo woo..., la la la la la la …
STATEMENT ON THE KISS OF A POPPY FLOWER
The Kiss of A Poppy Flower is a poem written by Shutao Liao, artist, poet and independent thinker, 21st century new humanist movement pioneer and promoter in the world. In this many-layered poem there is first a parallel evocation of New York and the salt city Zigong in China. In the second place there is a deeper, vertical evocation in which the material world is contrasted with the spiritual world.
It is an epic poem which reminds of the world famous poem Howl by Allen Ginsberg. It also has a lot of affinity with the work of Walt Whitman! Anyhow, this is a marvelous, far-reaching poem, which lays bare the tragic and traumatic alienation of the present era.
At the same time it leads from the current conflicts of civilization, the daily scenes of terror and decay to the possibility of a spiritual redemption, which could and will revitalize humanity.
Antoon Van den Braembussche
Author of "Thinking Art"
Art philosopher and poet
May 12, 2018
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: “Antoon A. A. Van den Braembussche (Eeklo, 9 July 1946 ) is a Flemish Philosopher of Culture, Emeritus Professor at the Vrije Universiteit Brussel, and a poet. He started as a poet, became a professor in the philosophy of history, and later specialized in art philosophy.
In his more recent work Van den Braembussche has focused on postmodernism, poststructuralism, and intercultural aesthetics. Important themes are representation and collective memory, and the philosophy of digital culture and contemporary art.”
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
MIRAGE
Foreword
The origin of life, the competition of primitive natural forces, the ugliness and the beauty of human nature, the rise and the decline of civilizations, the glory and the extinction of history, This poem is described in the context of New York City.
1. In The Water
Through the distortion of matter and energy,
time disappeared at its original point,
the continuum of time, space, and energy was forgotten by consciousness in its fractures,
and buried all the painful thoughts,
at the same time were buried:
quark, hadrons, leptons, particles, atoms, electromagnetic waves, matters, stars, galaxies, lives,
even the dark matter and the dark energy were not spared,
at the very beginning before the Big Bang,
everything was returned to darkness, and returned to The One,
time disappeared at the end of the universe,
to the end of the end, restored to Nothingness,
In Nothingness to dialogue with God.
There was one person,
walking with handstand, reading inside his fingers,
allowing liquid to hover inside his fingers and the gaps between the fingers,
finally, seeped it into The Void,
everything was splitting, and expanding,
a continuous process, a continuous change,
keeping away from each other in division and expansion,
at the same time smashed into each other with the extreme speed,
space chasing space; time forgetting time,
to regroup, arrange, and turn,
in chaos,
threw down an aerolite,
to form the land of earth.
The blue ocean was like a tear of the universe falling from the dusty air,
firmly attached onto the chest of the earth,
it was transforming its sighs in the alternation of day and night,
ice and snow gradually merged into the liquid of the ocean at the two poles of the earth….
When mountains were also melted by water,
a wise man with long white beard,
from the ancient times, calling me in the water,
playing strings without sound,
his long white beard growing in the silent music,
until it deeply inserted into the earth and the ocean,
and his white hairs were like trembling nerves stretching upwards,
into the boundless gray sky,
in a flash of lightnings,
disappeared before my eyes.
I came here to walk in the blue ocean,
to the palace built by corals in the sea, the place where life originated,
invited blue to describe in a blue way, the waves to soothe the sorrow of the waves,
elements to embrace each other and to narrate with the way they should,
chromosomes and cells,
breeding lives by Nothingness timed one,
nurturing protists, algae and mangroves,
noctiluca, coralline algae, seaweed, agar, jellyfish, leeches, stone insects, sea cactus;
pearl shells, clams, octopus, and jade snails; whale sharks with spines, albatrosses, penguins, terns, and seals…
Various shaped, various colored water organisms,
arranged or un-arranged, ordered or disordered, swift or sluggish,
dancing in the most egocentric way in the blue liquid,
joyful for their miracles of evolution,
these magnificent, no marginal classics of visual epic,
were staged at every moment in the transparent, blue liquid,
imported to the beginning of myths.
From prokaryotic bacteria and blue-green algae to single-celled organisms,
a ceaseless self-propagation and evolution,
the first soft fiber,
formed skin, tendons, blood vessels, bones and connected bodies,
formed a torso, four limbs, fingers, fingernails,
and eyes which could look at the ocean, nostrils and lips breathing in the sea,
after a journey of billions of years, it became a conscious life,
for thousands of years has been roving in the endless blue water.
Finally one day, it wanted to look up at the sky and the deep universe behind the sky,
then for the first time burst out a human-like roar, and came to the land.
2. The Sound Of Flute
He was a descendant of Maya, Aztec, Inca; carried the blood of Anasazi, Mogollon,
Cheyenne, Sioux and Hohokam;
spoke Algonquin, Uranus, Vijay, Tlingit, Q'anjob'al, Kanjobalan–Chujean and Kado languages;
with a simple, noble soul, rich, gentle feelings, a brave, honest heart.
Sometimes in the darkness,
under the starry dark blue sky,
when wrapped in the silence of waves,
he would sit on a narrow reef near the edge of the island,
playing with an Indian clarinet or a flute,
sending his soul to the heaven where God live,
the sound was sometimes clear and bright, penetrating through the clouds away, or sincerely sad and desolate, endless in the air and returning back,
coinciding with the innocent breathing of the vast wilderness of North America,
as a flowing ritual from the soul throughout the universe again and again,
true love flowed from his flute, lingering over the clouds above emotions,
the sound of hawks, wolves, thunders, wind, and rain was sometimes mixed with flute,
at that moment, his mind has flown to the top of the forest,
wolves were running in the valleys, between the mountains and the trees in the forests,
stopped in the sound of flute, saluted, with dazzling dancing,
main cardinals, flamingos, green-winged ducks, songbirds, red-bellied woodpeckers and long-tailed mourning doves flying in the air,
and there were northern shovelers playing in the water.
Before the dawn came, he made a contract with the god in the forest,
a memorandum of God, spirits and all things.
His ancestors, put feathers on their hats,
as a symbol of bravery, honor, beauty and wealth;
they wrote with hieroglyphics, and started to count from zero;
they worshiped totem religion believing that all things had spirits, the eternal life of the soul;
worshiped the gods of nature: the god of sun, god of moon, god of cloud, god of rain, god of flower, god of corn;
used the shape of cross as the symbol of religion,
“ The sun and the stars, we are your children!”
they prayed like this during the worship in the Sun Temple.
They cultivated mung beans, peas, kidney beans, kudzu beans, red beans, phaseolus vulgaris, legume beans, lentils, tea beans, vigna unguiculata beans; corn, sweet potato, peanut, tomato, cucumber, pumpkin, zucchini, pepper, pineapple, crocodile pears, strawberries, cocoa; cotton, rubber, and tobacco.
He did not belong to this island,
a few months before,
he had refused to execute a massacre necessary for being a warrior in a battle of two clans,
being treated as a coward, they were about to give him a severe punishment by the people of his clan,
one dark night,
when the tribe was in celebration of victory,
escaped in a canoe,
in the first few days, he was flowing on the unpredictable streams in the jungle, and fled in desperation, and almost died,
in the legend of his clan, the water flowing down South, would become wider and wider,
leading to a gap without margin, where it was the gateway to the new world,
he believed he has come there,
here, outside of this small island,
surrounded by the boundless sea, ceaselessly beating the reefs underfoot,
only could use the harpoon to capture small fish to survive,
he had to flee again to seek a shelter,
before the storm and rainy season.
He fled to an island where another tribe was living,
hiding himself and watching on a huge tree near the village,
it was a tribe of small people, he was a giant in comparison,
this village was being robbed,
some people who he had never seen, with white skin, yellow beards,
no one knew where they came from,
he yelled and jumped down from the huge tree like a god from heaven,
he saved this tribe, he was honored as a warrior,
his deeds were compiled as an epic singing in the tribe,
became the chief of this clan,
a few years later, he had a daughter: Tangakwunu, meaning rainbow in Indian Hopi language,
she was big as him, and beautiful.
When those Yellow Beards were leaving,
at first withdrew to a huge ship docked on the coast,
it was armed with armors, glittering in the sun, shining brightly,
there were many Yellow Beards wearing flashed armors on that giant boat,
then they left.
It was a scene that the chief never had thought of, and never could understand!
No one knew why they left? Where did they go? When would they come back?
The chief knew that the Yellow Beards would certainly come back!
when the time they came back, nobody could resist them,
the final outcome,
it would be the end of this tribe he was ruling, and all the other tribes in the continent!
The chief was worrying about the future alone, in deep fear.
3. Hunting Field
Above one hand, putting on another hand,
placing one heart over another heart,
setting corns between men and women,
passed down the belief of the ancestors of this clan:
the continuation of a life had to depend on the death of another life,
so people were hunting for food and continuing their lives,
also out of respect for life itself,
asking forgiveness from God.
Yellow Beards were finally back here,
holding bright fire guns in their hands,
in the past, people had used to hunt in the forests, and then they were the preys for hunting,
whether it was a young man, an elderly, a woman or a child.
Please through the red tears shed from our eyes, in the name of humanity,
silently watch Americas of the 18th century,
those recording numbers of lost lives, rethink their inside meanings once more:
13 millions, in the Spanish ruled territory;
10 millions, in the Brazilian region;
1 million, in the Westward Movement of the States,
New England Protestant and Puritan Legislation in 1703,
for every person who striped off an Indian's scalp and captured one red man, rewarding 40 pounds,
in 1720, rewarding 100 pounds,
the 1744 Massachusetts Bay paid for each scalp,
it provided such rewards:
for every scalp of a man over the age of 12 who has been peeled off, rewarding 100 new pounds,
for every stripping off a woman's or child's scalp, rewarding 50 new pounds,
massacre, siege, eviction, slavery, rape, forced migration, Indian reservations, genocides…
after the Indian Migration Act of 1830,
on the West of the Mississippi River,
the figures of Indian tribes,
disappeared in remote, barren mountains, engulfed in deserts where people rarely reached,
on the way to "Indian States",
there were 4,000 people in the Cherokee tribe whose lost lives were "the trial of blood and tears".
In the moments of unexpected deaths,
for the weak, there were no time for cheap tears or expression of human emotions,
in the dimension of history, on the backside of civilizations,
Barbarism has completed the definition of civilizations in the depths of darkness.
This was the continent of the Americas,
the dark night had conspiracy in the dark night, speaking in human language, while walking in the manner of a beast.
Broken fingers, torsos, female breasts no longer soft, dusty hairs, fleshes stopped rotten, as hard as irons;
love, hope, legends, bonfires, clan logos, feathers on head, songs singing in the light of morning, the thoughts before dawn, the belief when praying, the gentle touch of the clarinet, the red faces, the footprints when fleeing, the shock of fearful screams, the sorrow before death, all buried,
on the earth, in the deserts, under the water, between the stones and stones, between the bare hills and the mountains, at the junctions of the streams, they were no longer accompanied with wolverines and the nighthawks.
After the Yellow Beards came back, the people of the chief were hunted one by one,
looking at his own daughter Tangakwunu who had grown up,
red tears flowed into the heart of the chief, those were the tears of a father,
one evening, the chief took Tangakwunu, embarked his canoe,
to see Dave, a British gentleman, the most merciful intruder,
proposing to marry him of Tangakwunu as his wife,
to avoid her fate of being hunted like an animal on a certain day in the future,
Dave could not see the beauty of Tangakwunu,
his kindness did not prevent him from seeing Tangakwunu as a creature lower than himself,
the chief understood everything, lost his last hope, and shed tears of desperation again,
on the way back, he looked up into the deep blue night sky and prayed to the god of the moon for protection.
Tangakwunu was hunted in a bright moonlight night,
her beautiful body was just lying back in the canoe,
as it drifting through the jungles,
the red blood poured from her chest, and flowed into the canoe, and dipped into the cold water,
like red flowers blooming in the water,
becoming a long red color line, gradually dimmed.
4. Road of Clouds
Put the mountains and the earth into the hands of humanity and held tightly to redraw the mountains and the earth,
a man born in 1809 in the cabin of the Kings Springs farm in Kentucky,
a thinker who came from a childhood, "a concise chronicle of poverty",
a free martyr who was murdered at the Ford Theatre on April 11, 1865,
a symbol of integrity, kindness, strength, humanity,
through the lips of history, talking to me in the wasteland of human nature,
with merciful eyes, to look at the vast land of North America again,
after mutual killings, got reconciliation.
A colorful vision has formed above the bloody ashes,
extending to all corners of the earth where sound could travel through,
to silence the language in the language, to conquer evil motives in desire with a merciful heart,
so that the flowers of love could bloom in the whole world,
brought this world light, connected the entire land with an invisible net,
thousands of people, with their dreams, came from all corners of the world, in the call of freedom,
from the land, the sky, the ocean, the jungle, the desert; from Americas, Europe, Asia, Africa; from Pacific, Atlantic, Indian Ocean; from dawn, day, dusk and night,
through the connection of one particle with another, it was accumulated, gradually driven upwards by the instinct of human nature,
extended to form fingers that could touch the heaven,
weaving new dreams by dreams, and planting all sorts of colored, merciful seeds in the heart of dreams,
implanting thinking to subvert thinking, and making fruits of love enshrine in the temple of spirit,
climbing up to the top of the sky and looking down on the earth.
There was a man from the East,
a never-ending dreamer,
a pilgrim from afar,
the son of laborers,
working in the winter, speaking with a thick native accent,
when he came here, it was in a late fall of a year, he wanted to see the magic fruits of the legends with his own eyes,
was lost in thoughts under the golden leaves of the fall, in the absence of fruits,
used to sit on a long bench on the 7th subway, transfer at Queensboro Plaza Station to Manhattan,
when returning back, get off at 103 Station of Corona,
sometimes kissed his lover in the chili gale of the night,
sometimes looked at the Hudson River flows going down south, and the shadow of Brooklyn Bridge sloping downwards,
he looked up at the countless gigantic rocks piled up in extraordinary ways,
glittering with the glory of the sun, into the blue sky,
there were two great columns that had been connected to the sky,
on the early morning of September 11, 2001, two giant iron birds flying from outlands, stroke heavily,
collapsed, burned, turned into the dust,
at the same time, there were 2,996 human lives got lost into the dust, and the dreams of the new world.
Please lend me the torch of heaven, illuminate the hatred in the dark night,
do not allow hatred to be the cause of another hatred,
the lives lost here could not justify the slaughtering of other lives,
the killings, sufferings, and lost lives that occurred elsewhere had occurred many times in the history, could not make up for the lives lost here or to comfort their souls;
we must not allow selfish desires and avarice wrapped in humane clothing,
creating catastrophes in this world to expand its territories.
A devil always speaks the language of an angel to act, with changing faces.
If love lost its shelter to live,
hatred would follow every trace of humankind,
in the end, engulfed by the darkness.
5. The Dust
After a gust of wind, the mirage has disappeared into the dust,
I heard the flute of Indians,
in history, in the wind, narrating to me:
Ouuuuuuuuu,
Naaaaa,
Ouuu,
Na,
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa…
I WANT TO TELL THEE IN FOUR SEASONS
1.
When my heart
was closing to thy heart
it was trembling because of happiness,
but thou refused,
saying thou didn't need it,
let it fall in the dust, with its own loneliness,
let the footsteps of passersby
trample over it;
I held thee in my arms,
wanted to make thy life
away from the suffering in this world,
I didn't know
without its nourishment,
flowers in thy heart
would not bloom;
I wanted to fully fill thy cup,
with the water of life,
to make thy life forever
in happiness,
but thou refused,
saying thou didn't need it,
then
I had to give all the treasures in my soul,
to those passersby who happened to meet in life;
When I saw thee,
felt
the breaths of thy life,
my life would fulfill
of joy
because of the existence of thy life,
thou didn't need to give me any reward,
for the first moment I saw thee in this world,
I have completely received it;
I wanted to give thee
all what I had,
but
when I was doing so,
the opportunities for happiness,
also chased away by me
from the door in front of thy soul,
became a sinner;
Love
made my heart
weak,
I couldn't afford it,
the weight of
thy life,
for this
lost control and felt anger,
thou thought
that was because of thee,
in fact, it was just a painstaking struggle in the depths of my soul,
crying
for the unachievable love,
I did not know
how should I make
arrangement for thee,
making thee feel comfortable and easy,
love
made me shudder,
at a loss,
I did not know
what kind of beautiful anadem should I use?
to decorate thee,
how to act,
could be worthy of
the possession of having thee.
2.
I saw thee chasing
the glorious palace
in desire,
finally
was tightly bound by that desire
unable to move,
In lament with tingling;
What should I do
to make thee feel
the venom inside that desire?
it was wrapped
with so enticing decoration,
I did not know
how
could I give thee strength
to resist its deadly lure?
what thou already have in thy life,
the fruit of happiness,
thou abandoned at the door of self home,
rotten
in time, milled
by dust,
trampled
by passersby;
Thou could have
leaning over and picking it up,
but
thy eyes,
still eagerly watching
the distant horizon
a radiance of magnificence,
thou could have
picked up the fruit of happiness,
planted it in
thy atrium,
but
thou refused;
How could I let thee know,
the tree of thy life,
didn't need that
lavish abode,
because of thy life itself
more splendid than it,
at thy feet
in the soil, there were what it needed
all the nutrients,
could make it grow strong,
but thou refused;
How could I let thee know,
no need to explore
the meaning of the sunshine in front of thy window,
because of its true meaning
was to be there, shining on thee,
thy young porch,
thy hairline,
thy dreamy eyes,
even the glory of heaven
was no more splendid than it,
if it
couldn't make thee feel happiness,
and the paradise
was also unable to do;
I hoped
thou should be always young, always live in this world,
but
I also knew
that was
an extravagant thought that could not be achieved,
just as a flower
there should be bud, bloom, fading, and wilting,
just like day and night,
four Seasons,
in the cycle
illustrating
the beauty of nature,
how could I
think
one period was better than the others?
in case
I could appreciate
a flower
when in blossom,
I also
should be able to
enjoy
Its fading,
in case
I could appreciate
the lyric music during the day,
I should
also be able to
feel
the brightness of the night,
how could I think
birth was better
than death?
the arrangements by nature
gave them
equivalent beauty,
equivalent meaning,
we could calmly gaze
the eyes of death,
listen to
the gradually clear
echos of its footsteps,
with a mood of peace
even
ecstatics
welcome its coming,
embrace
and snuggle in its arms,
as to cherish
a
new life;
If
at a certain dawn,
or at dusk,
thou stooped thy head,
carefully
looked at thy own feet
every inch of dirt,
surrounding
flowers, fallen leaves, flying birds,
and to use thy soul
to whisper with them,
thou would discover
they were
all the miracles and the meaning of the existence of this world,
thy heart
would be wrapped with happiness
in the ocean of life.
3.
During the time I couldn’t see thee,
I could sense thy life
by listening
the sound of blood flowing
inside of my body,
because
there was the same blood
flowing inside thine,
I could see thy image
from my own nails, skin,
when my getting drier hair
sliding down in the mirror,
there
I could perceive thee,
a new life, in this world,
it made me happy,
being exhausted here
on the journey,
thou
as a flower bud,
always blooming in my soul's dwelling
I should as love my own life,
to love the suffering, the passionate tears
in my life,
without their deep embraces,
how could I understand
those
profound poetry lines,
and
the true meaning of love in life?
On the road
the returned travelers,
thou were the messengers from afar, telling me
did not
in vain
to search the kingdom of heaven,
if there was one,
it had to be here
the world we were living;
in case
my soul
was a poor desert,
how
would I be rich in life?
in case
my soul
was blessed,
all the time
with
precious wealth,
how could my life be poor?
Even me alone
on the road, walking by myself
in the dark night
I wouldn’t feel lonely,
I would kiss my loneliness,
without its affectionate cuddles,
how could
great thoughts,
come through
my quiet concierge,
to my soul
again and again,
with significant visits,
without its affectionate caresses,
in this world
what materials could I use?
to cast
the poetry of eternal life
in the soul?
Please don't sigh
for the
lapse of time,
thou haven't lost anything, thou didn't have anything,
because
thy losses and possessions,
always intertwined with each other.
December 7, 2008