酷我-北美枫

[ericcoliu]

Reading and Writing: Life on the Page


(The revision of this haibun grew out of my reading of Rod’s Time Travel, On Second Thought, of which the opening lines are as follows

Would you really like
to go back in time,

I just couldn’t resist his invitation. The following is my Time Travel into the long gone, yet still haunting past and I dedicate my poem to Taiwan, also known as Formosa, the Portuguese expression for “beautiful island”)


Auld Lang Syne (Contemporary Haibun – Japanese Prose Poem)


In his 1930 poem entitled Ash Wednesday, T. S. Eliot wrote:

Because I know that time is always time
And place is always and only place
And what is actual is actual only for one time
And only for one place

Thinking back on the best time in my life, now, I know that it was actual, but “actual only for one time.”

In that beautiful island, the sky was much bluer; the sun shined bright. Birds’ cheerful chirping accompanied people on their way to work. The air smelled crisp and buzzed with a chorus of insects. Flowers wore seasonal dresses gracefully; trees grew big and lush, making the island like a rain forest.

At that time, my bodily fluids were as fresh and abundant as the dews on the grasses. I was generous to let them drop as I saw something beautiful or someone suffering. When gazing into the starry night for moments, I would feel an unsuppressed urge to reflect on the vicissitudes of human life, earnestly promising I would do anything possible in my power to better the lives of my fellow country men and women in the future, lest this life be wasted.


Out of sight
My bird of youth flew --
Sunsets and sunrises.



Note:

Auld Lang Syne, a poem and song written by Scottish poet Robert Burns (1759–1796), is well-known in many English-speaking countries, and it is often sung at the stroke of midnight on the 1st of January, New Year's Day. The song's title may be translated into English literally as "old long since", or more idiomatically as "days gone by."
_________________
Time is nothing but a disquiet of the soul

[[ericcoliu]]

Reading and Writing: Life on the Page


(The revision of this haibun grew out of my reading of Rod’s Time Travel, On Second Thought, of which the opening lines are as follows

Would you really like
to go back in time,

I just couldn’t resist his invitation. The following is my Time Travel into the long gone, yet still haunting past and I dedicate my poem to Taiwan, also known as Formosa, the Portuguese expression for “beautiful island”)


Auld Lang Syne (Contemporary Haibun – Japanese Prose Poem)


In his 1930 poem entitled Ash Wednesday, T. S. Eliot wrote:

Because I know that time is always time
And place is always and only place
And what is actual is actual only for one time
And only for one place

Thinking back on the best time in my life, now, I know that it was actual, but “actual only for one time.”

In that beautiful island, the sky was much bluer; the sun shined bright. Birds’ cheerful chirping accompanied people on their way to work. The air smelled crisp and buzzed with a chorus of insects. Flowers wore seasonal dresses gracefully; trees grew big and lush, making the island like a rain forest.

At that time, my bodily fluids were as fresh and abundant as the dews on the grasses. I was generous to let them drop as I saw something beautiful or someone suffering. When gazing into the starry night for moments, I would feel an unsuppressed urge to reflect on the vicissitudes of human life, earnestly promising I would do anything possible in my power to better the lives of my fellow country men and women in the future, lest this life be wasted.


Out of sight
My bird of youth flew --
Sunsets and sunrises.



Note:

Auld Lang Syne, a poem and song written by Scottish poet Robert Burns (1759–1796), is well-known in many English-speaking countries, and it is often sung at the stroke of midnight on the 1st of January, New Year's Day. The song's title may be translated into English literally as "old long since", or more idiomatically as "days gone by."
_________________
Time is nothing but a disquiet of the soul

[Lake]

[[Lake]]

[ericcoliu]

[[ericcoliu]]

[fanfan]

[[FFFFFF]]

[Champagne]

[[Champagne]]

[ericcoliu]

The Flight of Youth

Youth is gone away,
Cruel, cruel Youth,
Full of gentleness and ruth
Did we think him all his stay;
How had He the heart to wreak
Such a woe on us so weak,
He that was so tender-meek?
How could He be made to learn
To find pleasure in our pain?
Could he leave us, to return
Never again!

-- Richard Monckton Milnes


Could he leave me, to return
Never again!
_________________
Time is nothing but a disquiet of the soul

[[ericcoliu]]

The Flight of Youth

Youth is gone away,
Cruel, cruel Youth,
Full of gentleness and ruth
Did we think him all his stay;
How had He the heart to wreak
Such a woe on us so weak,
He that was so tender-meek?
How could He be made to learn
To find pleasure in our pain?
Could he leave us, to return
Never again!

-- Richard Monckton Milnes


Could he leave me, to return
Never again!
_________________
Time is nothing but a disquiet of the soul

[戴玨]

Here's a more subtle one by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Break, break, break

Break, break, break,
On thy cold gray stones, O sea!
And I would that my tongue could utter
The thoughts that arise in me.

O, well for the fisherman's boy,
That he shouts with his sister at play!
O, well for the sailor lad,
That he sings in his boat on the bay!

And the stately ships go on
To their haven under the hill;
But O for the touch of a vanished hand,
And the sound of a voice that is still!

Break, break, break,
At the foot of thy crags, O sea!
But the tender grace of a day that is dead
Will never come back to me.
_________________
我的blog:
http://blog.sina.com.cn/u/1310527443

[[Edgar]]

Here's a more subtle one by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Break, break, break

Break, break, break,
On thy cold gray stones, O sea!
And I would that my tongue could utter
The thoughts that arise in me.

O, well for the fisherman's boy,
That he shouts with his sister at play!
O, well for the sailor lad,
That he sings in his boat on the bay!

And the stately ships go on
To their haven under the hill;
But O for the touch of a vanished hand,
And the sound of a voice that is still!

Break, break, break,
At the foot of thy crags, O sea!
But the tender grace of a day that is dead
Will never come back to me.
_________________
我的blog:
http://blog.sina.com.cn/u/1310527443

[ericcoliu]

[[ericcoliu]]

[星子]

Hi Eric,

Flowers wore seasonal dresses gracefully; trees especially grew big and lush, making the island like a rain forest.

At that time, my bodily fluids and tears were as fresh and abundant as the dews on the petals...

I feel the above lines too general.

I really think the ending make it much strong and poetic.
_________________

[[ANNA]]

Hi Eric,

Flowers wore seasonal dresses gracefully; trees especially grew big and lush, making the island like a rain forest.

At that time, my bodily fluids and tears were as fresh and abundant as the dews on the petals...

I feel the above lines too general.

I really think the ending make it much strong and poetic.
_________________

[ericcoliu]

Thanks for your suggestion.

I will think over it and maybe revise my whole piece.
_________________
Time is nothing but a disquiet of the soul

[[ericcoliu]]

Thanks for your suggestion.

I will think over it and maybe revise my whole piece.
_________________
Time is nothing but a disquiet of the soul

[ericcoliu]

The Best of Youth by PIER PAOLO PASOLINI


Lord, we are alone you call on us no more.
Year after year, day after day You look on us no more!
Darkness on our side and splendor on your side,
for our sins you feel neither anger nor compassion.
for thirty centuries, nothing, nothing has changed:
nations have united so, united, they wage wars
but our misery's the same as everybody's misery
and only You know how to sort out good from bad!
Work days, dead days! She pushes the wheel barrow
by the railroad tracks then towards the quiet square
and stops in front of the almost-finished staircase
where it crunches the stones baked by the sun.
The gates are shut, two trucks are parked
near the cement slag, flanked by dead bushes
and the old lady pushes the wheel barrow
while holding the tips of a scarf with her teeth.
A young man sits down to blow on his harmonica,
another younger one with horse whip in his hand
feeds hay to his charge then follows his friends
who are dancing carefree by the stands.
They sing, a bit drunk, by early morning
and wear their red hankies around the neck.
Hoarsely they order four liters of wine
and coffee for the girls who are silent and sad.
Come on, trains, take these singing youths
dressed in white shirt and English blazers.
Come on, trains, take them so very far away
roaming the earth to see what they have lost here.
Trains everywhere scatter these once happy men,
They will not laugh when leaving home forever
_________________
Time is nothing but a disquiet of the soul

[[ericcoliu]]

The Best of Youth by PIER PAOLO PASOLINI


Lord, we are alone you call on us no more.
Year after year, day after day You look on us no more!
Darkness on our side and splendor on your side,
for our sins you feel neither anger nor compassion.
for thirty centuries, nothing, nothing has changed:
nations have united so, united, they wage wars
but our misery's the same as everybody's misery
and only You know how to sort out good from bad!
Work days, dead days! She pushes the wheel barrow
by the railroad tracks then towards the quiet square
and stops in front of the almost-finished staircase
where it crunches the stones baked by the sun.
The gates are shut, two trucks are parked
near the cement slag, flanked by dead bushes
and the old lady pushes the wheel barrow
while holding the tips of a scarf with her teeth.
A young man sits down to blow on his harmonica,
another younger one with horse whip in his hand
feeds hay to his charge then follows his friends
who are dancing carefree by the stands.
They sing, a bit drunk, by early morning
and wear their red hankies around the neck.
Hoarsely they order four liters of wine
and coffee for the girls who are silent and sad.
Come on, trains, take these singing youths
dressed in white shirt and English blazers.
Come on, trains, take them so very far away
roaming the earth to see what they have lost here.
Trains everywhere scatter these once happy men,
They will not laugh when leaving home forever
_________________
Time is nothing but a disquiet of the soul

[ericcoliu]

The following replies are from my fellow poets:

There are many moments I would like to revisit in my lifetime where I could change what I didn’t like or enjoy again those that I did, I dream of the good times many a nights, but as far as going back in time to live in any of the old days no, for I have lived in the woods and off the land enough to know I wouldn’t want to do that for a whole life time, so in all of time I’m sure I prefer the modern days.

I’m so happy to have inspired you to write this excellent poem, you have said it so much better than I did in the poem you refer to.

Thank you for sharing your thoughts on time travel, I enjoyed the read.

--Rodney L. Eisenbrandt

nice haibun, crisp haiku.

Kathy Paupore
_________________
Time is nothing but a disquiet of the soul

[[ericcoliu]]

The following replies are from my fellow poets:

There are many moments I would like to revisit in my lifetime where I could change what I didn’t like or enjoy again those that I did, I dream of the good times many a nights, but as far as going back in time to live in any of the old days no, for I have lived in the woods and off the land enough to know I wouldn’t want to do that for a whole life time, so in all of time I’m sure I prefer the modern days.

I’m so happy to have inspired you to write this excellent poem, you have said it so much better than I did in the poem you refer to.

Thank you for sharing your thoughts on time travel, I enjoyed the read.

--Rodney L. Eisenbrandt

nice haibun, crisp haiku.

Kathy Paupore
_________________
Time is nothing but a disquiet of the soul

[christine]

[[christine]]

[ericcoliu]

[[ericcoliu]]