酷我-北美枫

[anna]

After homemade pancakes,
the host offers homemade drinks.
A crew of us tick our glasses and cheer.
Words bubble, words bounce,
words drift back home in the middle of
debate of the process wine making, and
what to grow, when to collect
the taste of sour, sweet or bitter dry.

The afternoon sun much cooler,
wasps circle lower after surviving last snow season.
We drink, we eat;
our skin shaded in the early autumn’s humid.

More homemade
food,
drinks…
More homemade music
and news…

Tongues slip into the hidden memory,
each tells one’s own aged tragedy,
I bite my lips trying reflecting
my ancestors,
but very little comes out
as if they have never existed.

So here, I am sunk in the love arm chair,
having little to offer, nothing to share.
my parents kept the past within themselves,
I was granted an intact silence.

I swallow the cherry wine,
sweet, and sweet; yet
the images of
my father’s sad eyes,
my mother’s crossed fingers
loom.

But I cannot fool myself
that I can over drink.
Like pushing snow ashes aside,
I shove my pain.
I ponder on miles to drive back
and riders with me,
those who kept saying on our way here,
too sad without friends around,
too bad far away from home.

Now among friends sipping wine,
I watch them find home.
_________________
---------------------

Anna Yin

《爱的灯塔-星子安娜双语诗选》
<Nightlights> <Seven Nights with the Chinese Zodiac> ...

http://annapoetry.com

[[星子安娜]]

After homemade pancakes,
the host offers homemade drinks.
A crew of us tick our glasses and cheer.
Words bubble, words bounce,
words drift back home in the middle of
debate of the process wine making, and
what to grow, when to collect
the taste of sour, sweet or bitter dry.

The afternoon sun much cooler,
wasps circle lower after surviving last snow season.
We drink, we eat;
our skin shaded in the early autumn’s humid.

More homemade
food,
drinks…
More homemade music
and news…

Tongues slip into the hidden memory,
each tells one’s own aged tragedy,
I bite my lips trying reflecting
my ancestors,
but very little comes out
as if they have never existed.

So here, I am sunk in the love arm chair,
having little to offer, nothing to share.
my parents kept the past within themselves,
I was granted an intact silence.

I swallow the cherry wine,
sweet, and sweet; yet
the images of
my father’s sad eyes,
my mother’s crossed fingers
loom.

But I cannot fool myself
that I can over drink.
Like pushing snow ashes aside,
I shove my pain.
I ponder on miles to drive back
and riders with me,
those who kept saying on our way here,
too sad without friends around,
too bad far away from home.

Now among friends sipping wine,
I watch them find home.
_________________
---------------------

Anna Yin

《爱的灯塔-星子安娜双语诗选》
<Nightlights> <Seven Nights with the Chinese Zodiac> ...

http://annapoetry.com

[anna]

The onion grown in your backyard

You can have it all,
after my last breath lingers away.
I have nothing to reserve,
my heart once told truth
and love,
tears and lies,
Yes, lies,
now is left open to be cut.

More and more
I say less and less -
Layer and layer of unsaid
lying here wait for you.

Cut, as if I am the only one.
Wear me, as if I am the ring.
I ask for the final close-up.
_________________
---------------------

Anna Yin

《爱的灯塔-星子安娜双语诗选》
<Nightlights> <Seven Nights with the Chinese Zodiac> ...

http://annapoetry.com

[[星子安娜]]

The onion grown in your backyard

You can have it all,
after my last breath lingers away.
I have nothing to reserve,
my heart once told truth
and love,
tears and lies,
Yes, lies,
now is left open to be cut.

More and more
I say less and less -
Layer and layer of unsaid
lying here wait for you.

Cut, as if I am the only one.
Wear me, as if I am the ring.
I ask for the final close-up.
_________________
---------------------

Anna Yin

《爱的灯塔-星子安娜双语诗选》
<Nightlights> <Seven Nights with the Chinese Zodiac> ...

http://annapoetry.com