酷我-北美枫

[和平岛]

There is some date that it should never rain
There is some date that cannot be stopped
even if it rains
The clock cannot be stopped
Footsteps cannot be stopped
TV channels cannot be stopped
The two red lips of a TV anchorwoman
cannot be stopped

She is shouting
“Happy Victoria Day!”
to me, with an excitng tone and rouge
Many feet are keeping on moving
My feet are keeping on moving
I think I am agitated by her slogan
I think I am now, like numerous other footsteps
joining this flowing phalanx

Like wings flapping
from the south of California, up to Oregon
up to the north of the Washington State
across the grand channel,
to those colorful Turkish dresses
Punjabi dishes, Korean folk songs
to two fire-breathing lions
dancing from the heart of China Town
to bagpipes blowing from another side of Scottish Highlands
up to the head of a tribe man

Who is so proud of his glorious feather
of a thunderbird, divine, and secretly
roaring from the top of clouds
with lightning in its eyes
flying down the 10 km long Douglas Street
which is now decorated with a festival pudding
with ingredients of all the colors of rainbow
aligned on both sides
by numerous tiny drifting umbrellas
by numerous high-held flash lights
by numerous glinting brass pipes

Curly threads of rains
Curly hairs and adolescent curves
They are singing as if they are shouting
They are dancing as if they are jumping
high, high, even higher they bounce!
Their t-shirts are flapping, flags waving
Fast, fast, even faster they wave!
Splashing everywhere are those shining puddles
Trembling is the Douglas Street
Breath-taking are underground water pipes
Pipes connected to the throat of the city
Pipes connected to the tummy of the island
the ocean, and the heart of the globe

Now you can hear
the breathing from the inner side of the earth
the murmuring of a caring mother
the crying of a thirsty frog deep down the city
through water pipes, brass pipes, ear drums
pumping through arteries, blood veins
through a listening heart. But
it is only me who heard all these
breathing, murmuring, crying, and pumping sounds
these voices, warnings or blessings
from the underworld or the heaven
the uneasy and disturbing lights
from the primitive or civilized worlds

Outstretching gently are my finger
-tips to touch and feel
those curly rain drizzles
those shining and vigorous curves of bodies
curves of pipes, and waves of music
Intertwined arcs and aesthetic feeling
is just hitting right onto my forehead
at the right time
What a peculiar patch of light, wet and splendid!

If you saw someone who was wiping his forehead
someone who was raising his right hand
and shouting: “Happy Victoria Day!”
That guy must be me
standing right at the middle of a traffic intersection
Red lights, yellow lights, and green lights
are interchanging across my body
Interchanged footsteps
are matching on, on, and on!

Finally, the rain has stopped
Footsteps have stopped
The clock ticks
right across 30 past 4
in the afternoon
Now I am extremely quiet, and quietly
I step down from the TV channel
sit down, lie down
turning my head, looking back, and enjoying
my own master piece, the beautiful TV anchorwoman
and her lip rouge
So peaceful, and satisfied
with the date on which this piece is completed


Original 2006-5-22
Translated 2006-5-30

[[我还没有昵称]]

There is some date that it should never rain
There is some date that cannot be stopped
even if it rains
The clock cannot be stopped
Footsteps cannot be stopped
TV channels cannot be stopped
The two red lips of a TV anchorwoman
cannot be stopped

She is shouting
“Happy Victoria Day!”
to me, with an excitng tone and rouge
Many feet are keeping on moving
My feet are keeping on moving
I think I am agitated by her slogan
I think I am now, like numerous other footsteps
joining this flowing phalanx

Like wings flapping
from the south of California, up to Oregon
up to the north of the Washington State
across the grand channel,
to those colorful Turkish dresses
Punjabi dishes, Korean folk songs
to two fire-breathing lions
dancing from the heart of China Town
to bagpipes blowing from another side of Scottish Highlands
up to the head of a tribe man

Who is so proud of his glorious feather
of a thunderbird, divine, and secretly
roaring from the top of clouds
with lightning in its eyes
flying down the 10 km long Douglas Street
which is now decorated with a festival pudding
with ingredients of all the colors of rainbow
aligned on both sides
by numerous tiny drifting umbrellas
by numerous high-held flash lights
by numerous glinting brass pipes

Curly threads of rains
Curly hairs and adolescent curves
They are singing as if they are shouting
They are dancing as if they are jumping
high, high, even higher they bounce!
Their t-shirts are flapping, flags waving
Fast, fast, even faster they wave!
Splashing everywhere are those shining puddles
Trembling is the Douglas Street
Breath-taking are underground water pipes
Pipes connected to the throat of the city
Pipes connected to the tummy of the island
the ocean, and the heart of the globe

Now you can hear
the breathing from the inner side of the earth
the murmuring of a caring mother
the crying of a thirsty frog deep down the city
through water pipes, brass pipes, ear drums
pumping through arteries, blood veins
through a listening heart. But
it is only me who heard all these
breathing, murmuring, crying, and pumping sounds
these voices, warnings or blessings
from the underworld or the heaven
the uneasy and disturbing lights
from the primitive or civilized worlds

Outstretching gently are my finger
-tips to touch and feel
those curly rain drizzles
those shining and vigorous curves of bodies
curves of pipes, and waves of music
Intertwined arcs and aesthetic feeling
is just hitting right onto my forehead
at the right time
What a peculiar patch of light, wet and splendid!

If you saw someone who was wiping his forehead
someone who was raising his right hand
and shouting: “Happy Victoria Day!”
That guy must be me
standing right at the middle of a traffic intersection
Red lights, yellow lights, and green lights
are interchanging across my body
Interchanged footsteps
are matching on, on, and on!

Finally, the rain has stopped
Footsteps have stopped
The clock ticks
right across 30 past 4
in the afternoon
Now I am extremely quiet, and quietly
I step down from the TV channel
sit down, lie down
turning my head, looking back, and enjoying
my own master piece, the beautiful TV anchorwoman
and her lip rouge
So peaceful, and satisfied
with the date on which this piece is completed


Original 2006-5-22
Translated 2006-5-30

[星子]

I step down the TV camera

--step down ?
_________________

[[ANNA]]

I step down the TV camera

--step down ?
_________________

[和平岛]

[[我还没有昵称]]