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Like a late-homecoming prodigal son
Hugging the warmest home and the sweetest memory
I warmly clasped and embraced mother mountain
Listening to her whisper: "I am proud of you, my beloved child."
The sacred mother mountain revealed a gracious smile
Still glistening with tears of motherly affections
As tender as a lamb I lay down quietly and peacefully
On her green bosom for her silent soothing and caressing
I was aroused occasionally from a sound sleep at midnight
Beneath the splendorous ornaments of her hair --
The moon, the stars, the Milky Way
With her most glorious and amiable apprearance
Mother mountain still urgently waiting for another lost sheep
A gust of wind whirling swiftly
Leaves the primitive message
Of grace
On the vast rice seedings
Egrets array a cadaverous white cross
In the middle of the wavering
Glaucous field
Twittering with their native fledglings
A slender weeping willow tenderly
Sways in the jagged bank
Of river
Reminiscing some farewell meetings
An old shepherd stands erect
Firmly with meditating gaze
And sorrow
While the solemn bell rings
A slim urchin rides astride
Wiggly on the back of
Watter buffalo
With the quaint twang he sings
Farmers extol the coarse idyll
At the sunset idly walking
After toil
In the straw sandals without stockings
The oriental landscape has been
Sketched on my scroll during
The twilight
Hugs the rural surroundings
So real and alive, as if
I were living among their
Thatched huts
All things are refreshed to their likings
The more I get acquainted with them
The more I wish they could
Climb up
Or I stoop under their humble ceilings
Finally I sober up touching the frozen
Countenance, pulsless, and my heart
Was awed
By the Maker of all living beings
Ere dawn the sea was serene
The moderate slow-paced voice
Of her footsteps from pole to pole
Overnight lulled: the traveling children to sleep
Whereas she was tired and yawned
Nestled to the breast of strand
Breathed like a child, and dimpled
She looked so young as if time never lapsed
But her beauteous dream of home was changing
And I durst not arouse her, even a touch
I hissed the early seagulls and the sailor
After a momentary repose she winked
At me, and smiled, and tossed about
And I saw her new wrinkles creased
Gently waved zephyr prostrated before her
For nourishing a hope to avoid the marine crisis
Oh! Let not tears drip to avoid the fair countenance
I caress her hoary hair gilt by the early sunshine
Her face stark sober down, she looked so strong
All the days that were bygone will anon return
To the next coming cycle of the seasons
And the days returned with my very concern
About the haunting eidola and the vague entities
Since the seasonal cycles cannot be slow down
By my bygones that loitered away when sometimes
I was tangled with my entity and an eidolon
I have kept my bygones from today and afterwards
As if the cycles in the tree rings, each line
Flinched among the others, to see my entity was
Solid as an acacia or slack as a dandelion
And who was playing the eidola behind the scenes
Then I sacrificed my bygone days to the shrine
Of love, faith, grace and endurance, and thus
My entity was sifted from the eidola, to shine
On the memories of my friends and my neighbors
No clandestine winds blow nearby
No winds blowing without a candid touch
Of love nearing the maple tree
And the capricious purling nearer and nearer
Snuggling to the autumnal tints and buoyed up
With the winds diffusing the sublime love
And disdained the purling glamour that profaned
The laundress who laved before her adoring
The precious relics of maple leaves
The voice lingered threw the windowpane
Hither and yon
The voice I reckoned not among the world
Yet the voice kept pace with my pulse
There was none to hide behind the windowpane
But still tiptoed
And I felt the voice clambered up my heart
Clamed my throb, and my throe was allayed
The voice as an elf frolicked on the windowpane
And supinely laid
Reminded me of lullaby in my nursery room
So familiar that the voice tallied with my memory
The voice gilt the windowpane as sheeny as a mirror
Reflected the sphere
Of my life, merits and faults, never inverted
As my parents, always encouraged and tolerated me
I opened the windowpane, interior and exterior
And cordially invited
All my friends who were kind, meek and patient
And we talked with the voice who was named Love
What I felt was of all darkness in the black hole
Black and thick of vanity, as pitch, in which I sensed a deep fall
Deeply hurt my heart, as in the dungeon of inferno
And dumfounded my forlorn soul, stifled by the unseen foe
The unseen serpent in the black hole, a myth of tunnel
In the galaxy, in the cosmos of my mind that was fathomless riddle
Yet can not get rid of it, from myself, from my nightmare
And my love was sucked up by it, nor to shun, nor to bear
The world as the envenomed orb, never be an emblem of rich ore
Ever so richly made, full of haps, and rapture, and ardor
But was contaminated by the foe, and was tainted my soul
And the storm interposed in my inner life with inclement howl
The stormbeaten flood, a drifting mess of civilization, fame, and honor
Once I was submerged, and there was no Ark, but dolor
A doleful look of no verdure in the prairie, nor genial warble
And the dirge of genuine globe echoed with rattling serpent tail
The impending echo pending ’twixt my thoughts: if the orb should fracture
And if I were to dodge, as a hermit, lest be in danger of murder
But I was deeply fell into darkness of vanity, in the black hole center
At the dungeon of inferno, ere the foe numbs my soul, I beseech a Seer
The silvery moonshine scintillates and spreads all over the sphere
The world become fainter, dimmer, and tender than it’s origin
Drifting in the nebulous moonlight, everything is similar
In every respect that colorblind has always seen
Without colorfulness but it renders us under the nimbus and rapture
Making us believe in the external peace and serene
A tyrant to be reflected in the moonlight as a look of humble usher
Ladies derive modest, elegant, virtuous and other good manners
From their smooth skins and delicate chins
That men pay most homage to them in such a mythic moonlit scene
What men never possesses or constantly lacks abruptly proper
As a heap of treasure grant from paradise twinkling in between
The moonbeams sift our sight throughout the world
It is difficult to separate; nor discern, nor distinguish
A cluster of flowers from their foliage, or thorns from shads
All protective coloration within our ken also vanished
Our bias as monotonous moonlight mantled in loveliest white
The world then absorbs in its scheme full of fear and anguish of wars
Even the sacred color of crucifix and sacramental blood has faded
Since the spiritual solar eclipse caused our faith to diminish
Our inner life utterly became pallid as in the gloomy shroud
We never again demand the sunshine to reveal the inward color fresh
Our desire floats in a maze, hides the truth behind the moonlit glade
The fake paradox, a serpent, induce us to covet the fruit in a dubious bush
Tossing turbulent car horns to the splendid plaza then parked
And the foppish youngsters, beaus and coquettes burst out
With elation, vogue words and the lineaments of the fad
A swarm of new generation herded together at the sultry dusk
Hooted and elbowed their way through the alluring neon light
Debauched in a privy casino and volubly bragged their theft
Detained and abused the juvenile whores from the hill sides
Dealt with the sailors to smuggle black guns from mainland China
Plotting snares and wiles to kidnap innocent lads of the rich
Even the parents were their close sidekicks or near of kin
Strolled out of the stock market and shifted their ambition
To the promenade, the latest fashion show in the streets
For instantly made prolific politicians and charlatans
And employed any freakish scheme and perjury to hanker after
Their sullied fame and wealth, as many upstarts have done
Got drunk and limbs agitated, as the queer malformed cripples
And groped their way back to each own abandoned home
Skulked with shudder, as if cringed in the murky sepulcher
Struggled to avoid the slighting eyes of undefiled children
Expecting to attend church, but once again sank into daydream
A park in San Jose I roamed, roved and rambled
For many time, and coincided with a grizzly bird
Around the pond and rivulet in the early morn
We both left when other guys and birds crowded in
The bird always stared at me, and hopped after me
We both imperturbably stood, face to face
Our impalpable ken met, and interacted each other
I thought with a bird’s thinking, and the bird mine
Beyond the skies I flew upon an azure vault
I saw the world through the bird’s dilated pupils
The constricted size of people squirming like worms
But in the bird’s ears their brutish mutter aggravating
The globe wrapped in a filthy shawl of wholesome inventions
The wit of people wrenched themselves like sitting ducks
And penned themselves by the excessive pretexts of liberal
Not the least excelled the birds on every respect
Haply and mirthfully I swooped down upon the park bower
The bird was besieged with feeding popcorn from visitors
Save a lost albatross! They shouted generously
But the bird averted my eyes, and I became odious to it
New Orleans is special, like a spoilt child
Being harbored by Mississippi so well
With her swarthy arms embraced
And her muddy face smiled in weal
The vast, thick and dense water overlaid
With equivalent fondness and marvel
On her way home Mississippi shuffled
Prudently soothing barges and soil
As an aged mother Mississippi still murmured
The legends of French Quarter and Cajun as well
Nestling into the gulf she never reminisced
A venture of Twain that others will thrill
Since New Orleans has much trouble increased
Gigantic water gates and pumps to quell
The rainstorm, lest St. John overflowed
But how is the underground canal?
No matter New Orleans never be a docile child
Two huge iron bridge rode astride her throttle
A long ridge way squeezed her artery of blood
Mississippi has always rejoiced as the vernal gale
The invisible hands in a tranquil night
Embroidered the twinkling sky
With His profound art
Without needle and thread
But an impalpable sigh
From the tortured memories
Of the heavily nailed wood
All nightingales can express
How their feathers have been dyed
From wool-white to disastrous scarlet
Of the innocent bloodshed
Slain by His betrayer
Even the whole world has huddled
Itself up into a deep rest
The small song-thrushes would cried
Wishing their crimson plumes
To be embroidered snowy white
By His amazing art
Beyond the desert
Saved from dust of war
The shadow of death
Evicted by brute strength
Out of Persian Gulf
A haunting nightmare
Time froze in the tears
Of lost vagabond
When to return home?
Hope nestled into
The U. N. Charter
Balm to wounded feeling
Peace hovered between
The grand maneuvers
Of allied forces
Not for a jihad
Nor Kuwait oil field
But the precious blood
With earnest concern
The whole world struggled
Strenuously to pray
Whoever else touched
A subjugated soul
Touched the heart of God
She, as a migratory bird in the terrible blundered season
Settled down at the vast Tien An Men square, greeting
By the numerous youngsters along with frantic delusion
She, standing erect to hold on to a liberal torch saluting
Astounded by the upheaval of both hospitality and hostility
Chaos, turmoil and hunger strike, declined to the old fashioned era
China, of a billion folks, struggled against the fatality
Shivering, stunning and shrinking from the silhouettes under fire
Ever scrabbled peace and freedom on the banners so eagerly
And confidently scrawled over the wall, but null and void at all
The world watching such entwined theater demonstrated vainly
When one soul acted to be a martyr toward the tank’s cannon barrel
She, as a bird migrated from New York, was smashed to pieces
Should God restore a ruin or we still duplicate the others?
Having marked the renowned brand of peace, democracy and liberty
You leaned your face against the bow and gallantly launched
In the state of flux and re-flux, the boat fatally surged
At the anchor of freedom, supported by the yonder island
Overloaded with high aspiration after nightmare, but lack of complement
As a poliomyelitis tarred in the windstorm, agitated and hesitated
Yet step by step kept going with intermittent re-commencement
Hoping that the sights of the world will all concentrate
Upon your dainty torso, a kin to the preeminent Statue of Liberty
And the island will be your mutually beneficial counterpart
Promising to supply you the sufficient facilities
To broadcast the diagnosis for the political disability
And the atrophy of human right, honor, dignity and justice
Those symptoms of spiritual poverty and unconscious infidelity
And other defects and falsehood under the dictatorial frailties
How valiant the opponents fought against the authorities
But all heroes on your deck had been threatened to decamp, and evacuated
From the hunger strike, demonstration and other deeds of apprentice
To the noble democrat who was one of your elegant brood
And was raped by the tyrant during her sentimental maidenhood
And was assassinated in her solitary trip to the Far East
And now the anger of your heroes could have avenged
Their vanguard’s disgrace and disaster upon the delinquent
Behold, the ears of the world had converged at the boat
But a disguising freighter from adversary started to dog your course
And your voyage was forced to turn to the inter nos coast
The rumor of shipwreck caused them in dumb surprise
But you had sneaked into the strait by a port of the island
The homecoming affection ebbing and eddying as undulated waves
Topped by the layers of fantastic forms that spread
Expanded and extended to their beautious, lovely dreamland
Foams of ideal that had been promulgated by the numerous pupils
Foams of patriotism as firecrackers that the martyrs had ignited
Foams of unification that both sides of the strait chanted chorus
Forms of innovation, foams of prosperity, foams of joy and haps
All that of foam-layers were immediately formed and deformed
And flashed in the capricious ocean of political ethics
You rallied your heroes to restore your prestige and fortitude
Requested for the permission to enter the port of the island
And was solicitous for the expecting sustenance and reinforcement
Thus the voice of implacable impeachment from the mainland
The world was attentively anticipating the prologue of conflict
Between the antagonist and your heroes, ever rescued by them
From the massacre, and immigrated to the paradise of continent
People as spectators all ascended to the best seats watching the game
Above the cloud of war, chattered with sarcastic comment and epigram
But the cloud of anxiety among your heroes scudded over the island
And the cloud of words led astray the patronizer to disclaim
The solemn pledge to you that you vainly went on a gawky errand
Each hero in a state of inertia, became incompetent as coward
The island shrank into a ball played hide-and-seek with the submarine
All politicians and coquettes made catcalls and hooted and booed
The boat as a contagious patient was isolated by the sea of ultramarine
And was sold by auction to a merchant for his later exhibition
Your heroes were repatriated to the cozy cottage with deep chagrin
But your contingent sickness was abruptly in a critical condition
The elegy composed by the island calmed the world and all became serene
