星子天空

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http://nobelprize.org/nobel_prizes/peace/laureates/2006/yunus-lecture-en.html

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因为吃了榴莲。

周末老公买了给聚会做榴莲奶昔。。。一天游玩下来，大家回到我们家就想着开牌，四国大战，乒乒乓乓，孩子们忙游戏。

所以没时间做。今天自己把它干掉，躲在家里，明天喷一身香再去公司。

不过四国大战真好玩，（大学时我一人杀进男生宿舍连战到夜半）
老同学不断开玩笑爆料往事。那时并没有男朋友，就喜欢玩。）
我最后乘敌人不注意，端掉敌人两方的大旗。反败为胜。敌方不服，要求下次聚会，把军旗带去，再大战一回。

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我很少去看国内博客，不记得什么原因翻到了李少君的。

一读很喜欢。尤其他的选评诗歌等。这里推荐一下，并自己码记一下。不时看看。

http://blog.sina.com.cn/lishaojun1

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头发马上留长，不想剪了。周末看枫叶时，来个带帽子，带墨镜的，几个月没照相了。

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http://www.zgyspp.com/Article/ShowArticle.asp?ArticleID=16723

摩尔广为人知的名言：诗应该在想象的花园中提供真实的蟾蜍

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in Hongkong in Nov 2009

Here is the magazine online

http://www.asiancha.com/index.php

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1)

Somehow, I thought
I would be the one
who tears the sky apart

I find I am the one
who stitches its crack
day and night

Rains pour,
No rainbow ahead.


2)Shanghai Night

You should go back.
He insists.

The city he merely gets known
from a book,
he believes I belong there.

He is right.

3)
Hei, it is me.
The one with soft pack,
you purchased from Dollar Store.
Shoveled into your pocket,
you brought me home.

Now your cigarettes lie beside me,
we all wait for our turn.
You strike a match,
I hate to say, I feel cold.

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还有十多天休假，不舍得用，总想留着，以后有急用时一天天用掉。

答应了朋友动笔的有几个。。。一直还没头绪。

从多大借了一堆书，读得头痛。。理论的东西真拗口。。。

下星期一我休假，约好见导师谈诗歌，下午去旁听课，可能也得上台对学生讲几句。（周末Terry会和我详细谈谈。）


有一些计划，下星期的面谈再说。

公司新项目可能上马了，开始要忙了。

不过我不忙时也会自己折腾

儿子比我更忙！

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In your email, you mention the celebration;
dancing, singing and other activities preceding the important moment.
My fingers type the only word, "Nostalgia",
again and again from the east coast of the Pacific Ocean.
I hope to send it right now,
yet, the moon shines my blue passport,
the shore on the west end is too far to arrival.
Still I imagine hands raising with a solemn oath,
five stars flags fly freely with a leaping heart full of joy.
But here I merely can reply:
Absence is an enormous pain.

The returned friend says the events
are the same, stunning as before.
Her mood is cheered up even though she notices
the sky in Toronto is always clearer. No surprise.
The gray skyline is still dim under rows of red flags,
you choose that as the excuse for your absence.
Still, you wish to be the audience
who stand up for their motherland, and applaud
with happy feelings.
At that moment, they don't think of bad news of daily life,
the dropping line of stocks, and the pollution index in the air,
They applaud and applaud

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感觉国家强大，民族团结。

希望一直如此，上下一心友爱繁荣！

祝福祖国！

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（一）

我会去旅行，
醒来你这样想。
一缕阳光落下来，
还和以前一样，
刺伤你的眼，
反复写着
盲点。

（二）

翻到王菲的新歌，
静静去听，
天籁，
天涯，
墙上的时针
扎在心里。


（三）

邻居门前是桑树，
风水忌讳。
但桑子很甜，
你吃了很多。
你的后院是樱桃，
什么说法你不清楚，
鸟却吃得一个不剩。
你没有什么可抱怨，
本来就六个。

（四）

秋天一提起树，
你想到落叶。
很美。
很美。
你想不到别的词。

（五）
又到收拾换季衣服的时候。
衣架上未曾碰过的裙子，
你突然想试一试，
这清凉的季节。

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十月，成列成行，
罂粟花盛开在拂兰得斯战场。
异域的课本上这样印刷。

我的孩子在广场兜售
满筐的红罂粟纪念章，
三两只和平鸽在树丛中觅食，
一切显得如此安详。

对面黑色的宽屏上
不断展示人肉炸弹
在伦敦，纽约，
听不见云雀的飞翔。
被落叶夹杂的十字架
愈发显得单薄。

面对窄口缺氧的花瓶，
我插上艳丽的红罂粟。
她们就像儿时的红棉，
五星旗下一簇簇，一丛丛
轻易就能歌唱：
祖国的花朵真鲜艳。

我害怕，等不到冬天，
也顾不得全球暖化
一切碎裂如棉絮
失散。

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http://www.poemlife.com/shiku/shiku.asp?vNewsId=13

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——秋天，我没有果实奉献给我深爱的国度 （引自蔡利华 秋思）


果子结了，落在异域，
绽开两种语言，
一个漂在海上，
另一个埋在心里。

这是不曾预想的事实，
就像嫁接的苹果树，
春天从长城内开花，
秋分到了驿站外的黎明。

影子在前行，灯塔在探路。
叶落归根终究是一种传说。
只有种子，饱满的种子，
包裹着两种世界的种子，
等待风的启程。

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不过一封信而已，严格说一封普通的电邮。
打键盘的手却停下来，定住乡思两个字。
你很想现在就发送，飞过国界，越过太平洋，
就象高坡上一片叶子传送风的讯息。
可能吗？月亮照在你幽蓝的护照本，
彼岸，一次次签证你才能抵达。
鲜红的印章，凝成异域的归盼，
宣誓的手举起来，泛起你红旗下的眺想，
一次次彩排，雀跃的心。
你的手掌多么愿意随着她一起拍动，
缺席是一种无奈的伤痛。

回归的友人说着不变的还是这一切，
她的语气被庆典的祥云中和。
当然多伦多的天比北京更蓝，
潜台词并没有多少意外。
京城的天空本来就灰，
尽管在一片红旗的彩排下。
也许这是你缺席的另一种说法。
尽管如此，如此如此，
你还是想做个鼓掌的群众演员，
让心情跟着雀跃庆典。
这时候你不会去读奶粉的消息，
股市的曲线，以及空气中的指数，
掌声，掌声如潮。

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http://coviews.com/viewtopic.php?t=44366

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I came across the ocean,
to meet you at your garden
where you drew the deepest sea,
birds perching on their deference.

I wandered in your walled world,
far away from fame,
feasted with lines and dashes,
all unsaid wisdom.

You stood tall in your shadowy room,
Death drove in and out;
on your gravestone, he carved,
you outlive him.

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我没有告诉你我肩上的淤痕，
晚会上露肩衣不小心暴露了这一点。
你的眼神充满疑惑，但你装作没有看见。
我第一次发现是在一个月以前，
暗紫的青块，摸起来没有异样感觉。
当然不是胎记，但我也记不起在哪碰过。
等它自然消失吧，我一直这样坦然。
而现在我却担心起来，担心你的眼神。

今夜酒不多，我忘了我要说些什么。
捂了一年的话失去话柄，
酒精象烧焦的煤炭，我的喉咙很痛。
其实我一直是空杯，尤其在有月光的晚上。
那把镰刀割破了天宇，落在我的肩上。
我想明天我真的要去看看医生。

十四行 梨
桌上的一盘梨看起来
很像墙上的静物画，
只是面对一把刀，
它期待主人起身送客。

墙上的梨却想走下来，
面对这把刀，
它愿意承受伤口，
让流汁的生命得以品尝。

那拿刀的手却犹疑不定，
他的梦想镶进了画面，
经久的褪色，皱缩成
一张宣纸。

清凉的夜色中，
水果的乳酸味一点点蔓延。

十四行 石头记

一块石头守在园林的入口。
不规整的外形，黝黑的孔洞，
和你经过的很多石头没有什么不同。

这样的石头不适合刻字，也没有字迹。
你停下来，伸出抚摸的手，
石头微颤了一下。

洞孔里露出细小的水珠，
在你的轻触下愈发冰凉。
你突然伤心犯了致命的错误。

静立良久，倾听沧桑后的淡泊，
沉默已然它的习惯。
而天黑你走之后，
你手经过的地方，刻下的寂寞，
谁给它隐痛着再次抹去？

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Thus you recognize how difficult it is
to write poetry yet not reveal yourself,
no matter how carefully
you write in a distant and observing way;
as if you are in love,
You cannot simply put it In the past tense.
Poetry revives your personas,
words wrap your delicate egg
in layer upon layer of life.
The more your thoughts sewn in threads,
the more your heart flutters like butterflies;
as if you put them into a pale cocoon,
you wait for readers to crack it.

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年轻的面孔一个个飘过，
他们不会为我停留，
并且留意我的迷茫
以及羡慕。

从校园我捧回满怀的诗书，
捧回我青春年华。
年轻的身影独行在过往的旅途，
在遥远的花季之前，
一定有你的，我的
擦肩而过。

夜空的镜子里，
我看到故国的长桥，
飘来你的脚步声，
二十个春秋，
风声，雨声。
杯子里倒影深深。
_________________

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Shadow


You come, you vanish;
you are my shadow.
no harm, nor joy,
in your close solitude.

I sew a clothing of words,
fail to put on you.
Naked and muted,
by the brim of dark.

I take you to bathe
under where sunlight
shines straight.

Without a warning,
you shrink.
I have the urge to hold you.
More silence descends,
I, your empty shell.

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借了一堆书。。。

时间恨少！

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http://nobelprize.org/nobel_prizes/literature/laureates/1996/szymborska-lecture.html

http://nobelprize.org/nobel_prizes/literature/articles/packalen/index.html

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one trick to reading any poem is to make creative associations---especially more modern poems thought of as "post modern."

Ian Sansom in the Guardian on Muldoon…


"...postmodernism contents itself with allusion rather than conclusion,

Muldoon has an urge to encapsulate history. In an earlier long (very long) poem called ''Madoc: A Mystery'' he brought together the chronology of Western philosophy, the Lewis and Clark expedition, and the adventurous fantasies of Robert Southey (author of an unread epic entitled ''Madoc'') and Samuel Taylor Coleridge. ''Black Horse'' takes just such a flier at the universe, requiring readers not only to be light on their feet but to know about trebuckets and white-lipped peccaries. (A trebucket is a medieval catapult for hurling huge stones at an enemy. A peccary is a piglike animal with three toes on the hind feet, impure and ineligible to be eaten by Jews.) The dictionary will help, but for some of the allusions in this poem you'll need that university library...."


post-modernism assumes the reader has a vast and an eclectic reading and lifestyle---


books, poems, history, psychology, geography-travel, romance, medicine, culinary, political....


rigorous, huh?



your poems are post-romantic---love stories that not only end unhappily --- gothic and romantic---but love stories where the characters know they are doomed---the knowledge makes them post-romantic. that's why Dover Beach is the first post-modern poem---the speaker is so self-aware---

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好吧，回到来时的地方。
桔黄灯一盏，老唱片一张，
驻立窗外的知更鸟
淋湿了翅膀。
我们回忆不起它是否鸣唱，
除了镜子里新添了
雨衣,墙上停摆了钟。

断桥，黑底胶片。
披着风干的影子，
我们捧着一杯咖啡，
就这样漫漫地想。
不再有炙热的炎夏，
一袭深秋的月色，
津没在浅浅的杯子里。

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Here we shade under the early autumn’s leaves,
click our glasses and cheer.
Wasps circle lower around golden pancakes;
columns of grasses cling to ground with a sudden wind.

Along the newly-painted fence, various flowers bloom.
Angel’s Trumpets climb tall in the late afternoon.
I recall their Morning Glory name from my hometown -
where they light up my misty village.

My tongue slips into the hidden memory;
the dry wine, sour and naked,
bites my shallow throat.

Listening to the rising voice
in telling one’s own immigrant story,
I am sunk in a love arm chair,
mute as a straw crow.

I pour a glass of cherry wine,
and swallow the sweet;
the images of
my father’s sad eyes,
my mother’s crossed fingers
loom.
They kept the past within themselves,
I was granted an intact silence.

Frost grows heavy from my silence,
tomatoes in the backyard are ready to fall.

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侄女上大学了，原来给她的卧房重新改成书房。所以晚上老公一个办公桌，我另一个，还有一个摇椅坐着看书。儿子有时也加入我们。
书房倒是很热闹。

儿子的房重新换了床，安放到不同位置，两个白柜贴床脚放，又好看又节省空间，儿子的卧房一下子感觉大了很多，也明亮多了。
这一变，儿子很喜欢自己的房间。

客房就安排到地下室了，也有卫生间和洗漱间。地下室很明亮很舒服，所以以后朋友或家人来，可以更方便了。

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在你的梦里，你很少提到自己。
在你的等待中，你总是站在最后。
错过了公车，错过了行人，
甚至错过影子。
四十页的诗稿你用移居的语言书写，
你的导师不相信你来自中国。
而你在原居地南北行走时，
南方人直说你来自北方，
北方人声称你根系南部。

筷子用得不好，中文老错字，
直率和自我让你成为暗箭的明靶。
流言一度穿越你的窗门，
不期然你迎接风雨站立。

法国人聘你做英文翻译，
你发现你的英语比他更糟糕。
而他对你的溢美在圣餐上
被你教了一辈子物理的母亲
严阵以待，让你一场浪漫
来不及期待。而法国没入了
橄榄树的旅程。

你给英国人的情书纯属虚构，
除了玫瑰色的礼服和河面皎洁的月光。
你不断在两种语言中寻找和逃避，
却发现中国的月亮比外国的更圆。

在别人的镜子里你做着别人，
在自己的镜子里，你却迷失。
你的包裹在文字中慢慢展开，
上涨的河流载着迁徙的时光，
在远处幻化成一树花，
一群鸟，
一阵烟，
一朵云，
你不断地问着自己，
你是谁？谁是你？

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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.

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星期三下午同事聚会喝酒而作。

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
debating the process of wine making,
about what to grow and when to collect
the taste of sour, sweet or bitter dry.

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

Our 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.

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两年的业余时间里，因为自己喜欢诗歌写作，所以报了多大写作班。
六门课很贵，比其他学校贵一半左右。加上最后项目大概花了我4000加币。
不过我还是觉得值得。因为这是我喜欢的事，我可以不买任何化妆品以及贵重物，
但我不能放弃学习和交流的机会。老师们都觉得我是最认真最积极的学生。可是当我
多交一份作业，希望能得到反馈时，有的老师就很坚持原则，说自己只改一份作业。
而我也没有更多的时间和她们建立私人友情。除了上课，交作业。
我想最让人惊讶的还是讲演班，我自己也很吃惊，居然能很激情慷慨地一路讲到底。一点都不慌张。其实我做好了这次讲演讲砸的准备，为挑战自己，不看任何讲稿，
随性讲下去。我不去想结果，我就讲自己真心感受的和想要表达的课题：全球暖化。
老师说 “震撼了全班”。有时我觉得我的胆量和热情如果不去好好应用，真的可惜。
这两年的课其实也是为我的另一个梦想。我想我还有二十年的时间折腾，在自己愿意的喜欢的事情上应该是能折腾出什么的。哪怕折腾不出什么，这过程其实我已经很开心了。
想想很多人人到中年很茫然，而我还有这么多事情想要去做，去学，应该是一种幸福。
这里还要感谢TERRY，他是我不付钱的老师，却比任何一个收费的老师更耐心，更支持我。
有时我总在犹豫自己到底有多少进步，但他一直鼓励我，相信我。 也许这是我的幸运。到现在，我遇到过几个好的老师，但愿每个人都遇到好老师。当然我希望更多。

我想我确实和很多人价值观不一样。 比如他们喜欢买大房子。而我更注重自由。我更喜欢房子不一定大，但一定要夫妇双方各有自己的车，有自己的活动和自由。每年去度度假，开阔一下视野，看看不同地方，我不会想他们一样因为房子而挤一部车，担心工作以及未来，把自己美好的时光度在房贷上，老了再卖掉大房子来享受退休。我反而希望早点退休，并开展自己喜欢的其他事业。
慢慢从现在准备着，有希望和梦想地活下去。。。

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Somehow it tells story
Of the past,
reminding me of memories
beyond words.
I follow its moonlit path
Without worry of getting lost.

I can see myself
reflecting light from your pupils,
and drops rolling over
your face

The wind blows in and out,
but I cannot make a sound,
no matter how the tides rise
and recede.
I lie on the remote beach,
Like an empty shell,
taking in all the sounds
until the music dies out inside.

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更多的时候你看到影子，
他们成群结队，不会为你停留。
鸟雀等着啄完你脚边
最后的一粒花生，飞回老巢。
溪流边一只天鹅越发形单影只，
她毫不介意你进入她的视角，
仿佛你更象一桩树干。

在你的头顶，大雁一字排开，
你无法了解他们眷恋何方。
回归线在积雪之外，
北来的风夹杂阵阵寒意。

水潭里一尾咬钩的鱼，
你松开鱼线，
注视它慢慢游走。
。

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除了苹果和梨，
在我的静物画里，
我需要加上切片的柠檬。
散开看，它们更象车轮，
或者摆开的衣裙。
当然我更愿意想象
一把把油纸伞,
从墙上走下来，
一个丁香一样的故事，
一阵散碎的脚步声，
一段雨后的虹桥。

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我不是柠檬性情。
也不承诺如此。

但那黄灿灿的，硕大的
挂在小小盆景的果
吸引了我。

在我凝视的时候，
更多地我看见满月。
我记得它是在我梦里，
除了那位隐在阴影里的主人。

他转过身，指向
其他的盆景。

可我坚持这一个。
他盯着我，预警着
“随时它会掉落。”

我却听到
月夜下，
我书房桌子上，
冰镇的水注满柠檬味道。


I am not a lemon person.
Nor will I give you one.
But the fruit hanging on a miniature tree
caught my attention,
light yellow and
unusually large,
it is ready to fall.

The more I stare the more
it looks like a moon.
I remember that from my dream.
except there is no owner
who steps to the front.

Pointing to other blooming pomegranates
and fresh pines
the old man makes his offer.

I insist on the falling lemon.

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A free life by Ha Jin
Wait by Ha Jin

Namesake by
http://books.google.ca/books?id=Nx-vY7ac1OcC&dq=Namesake&printsec=frontcover&source=bn&hl=en&ei=uCufSqtQ4YvxBtuf3NYP&sa=X&oi=book_result&ct=result&resnum=6#v=onepage&q=&f=false

Snow Flower and the Secret Fan by Lisa See

The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls

The Book of Negros by Lawrence Hill

Dubliners by James Joyce

the house on Mango street by Sandra Cisneros

Everyone's poetry by Dylan Thomas

Poet's Dictionary - A handbook of prosodyand poetic devices by William Packard

Write to the bone workshop
http://writetotheboneworkshop.blogspot.com/

Other books I forget titles.

Since I don't have good memory, I plan to write sumary for each to enhance my recalling.

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儿子三晚上篮球。。。我全陪。所以这周的读书会推掉了。

侄女周四到达，须接机，安排她多大住下，注册等。

周日儿子篮球，我诗歌活动后赶去看。

我这周工作也忙，有时晚上也加下班。 朋友约我们去他们家游泳打乒乓球，只能推下周。 上周去把游泳衣忘他们家了。

前天去中国文化节，把球拍忘了。。。幸好教练打电话说，有人捡到。

儿子在文化节上被记者摄影录像了，还要了他的名字。我不好意思问是报纸还是电视，回来和老公一说，他说肯定是电视。不过也不是重要事，很高兴他现在很活泼大方。很讨喜。

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柠檬

老人摆出他的盆景，
巧夺天工的微缩自然
在吐艳的石榴，盘旋的
黄山松，以及纤密的眉竹之间。

我一盆盆观赏过去，
流连在江南的精致中，
惋惜于老人并不予诗意命名，
只有简单的名字本身。

比如这株柠檬 — 柠檬。
但这并不妨碍我目光的定距。

一尺来高的树身，
挂着两个硕大的果，
一个和我拳头一样大，
另一个两倍，黄灿灿的
在细小的绿叶之中。
还有几个如花生米粒大
青嫩地躲在叶子后面。

这盆最不值钱。
老人笑笑，
仿佛她的果实
随时都可以掉落。

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(There Must Be Something & Root Carving)

http://www.canadianimmigrant.ca/static/5015

The Canadian Immigrant magazine with publishing select photos and poetry in Vancouver and Toronto September and October publications, can be picked up locally on or after September 1, 2009.

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早晨的花开了，
仔细看是手上的这把扇子。
水粉的睡莲不带香气，
纤细的扇骨银亮着。

今年夏天出奇地不热，
但你还是保持执扇的习惯。
昨晚散步的公园，
水中央很静，很凉。
你一直想湖心岛那边。

你的梦就象这把扇子，
只不过半开着，
弧形的岛，月牙印的桥，
折起来的晚安。

Good Morning

The morning flower blooms.
On a close look, it is the fan in your hand.
The water lily in the painting has no scent;
slim metal bones glitter like silver.

The summer unexpectedly cools down,
still, you keep the fan handy.
Last night, you took a walk along a trail,
puzzling on the other side of the lake's island.

You dreamt of it like the fan, half folded.
The curved shore, the crescent bridge,
bent into your GoodNight echoes.

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http://www.essentiallifeskills.net/lifelessons.html

15 Life Lessons
They Don't Teach You In School


There is the type of education we get in school and there are life lessons we learn along the way. Both are important.

The only problem is that life moves us far along before we figure out what's going on and the wisdom we hope to have gained is sometimes late in coming.

To spare you some of the hard knocks and trial and error, here are some life lessons to help you along.

1.As Richard Carlson says, 'don't sweat the small stuff', and most of it is small stuff. Much of the time we get stressed and worked up over "stuff" that in the grand scheme of things really doesn't matter. When we allow ourselves get too caught up in it we ruin our perspective and don't take time to enjoy the moment.


1.Life can be unpredictable and throw you some curves. Just say "never" and see what happens! To avoid the jolt when life's surprises come your way, be prepared by being open-minded and maintain the positive mindset that welcomes the life lessons offered.


1.The most boring word in any language is "I". It's wonderful to be self-confident and self-sufficient, however, it's not all about you. There is nothing more monotonous than hearing someone talk about themselves and their accomplishments endlessly. Being self-centered is not the same as having self-confidence.


1.People are more important than things. Relationships are more important than any material goods you may acquire on the road to success. Without the love and support of family and friends in life, material goods are not of much use. Setting your values and priorities can help you establish what's important.


1.Nobody else can make you happy. Your happiness and state of mind are your responsibility. It's up to each of us to know what it takes to be balanced and happy. Our relationships enhance our lives and make them richer, but they do not "make" us happy. We do.


1.Character and integrity count. It's important to be a person of honor. Your good word and deeds inspire trust and confidence from family, friends and employers. Be the kind of person others are proud to know.


1.Forgive yourself, your friends and your enemies. We are all only too human. All of us slip sometimes and make mistakes. Holding grudges and past hurts only serves to prevent us from enjoying life to the fullest.


1.A good joke can be better than any pill. Take time to laugh each day. Humor really is good medicine.


1.There are no substitutes for exercise, eating well, and fresh air and sunshine. Never take your health for granted or underestimate how much feeling good physically affects your moods.


1.Persistence will eventually get you almost anything. Never give up. Keep your goals and dreams alive.


1.Television probably ruins more minds than drugs. Get away from the TV and read, exercise, learn and stretch yourself.


1.It's okay to fail. Everyone has failed at one time or another. Failure is a great life teacher. It teaches us humility and how to correct our course of action. Thomas Edison had a great attitude towards failure. He said, "I have not failed. I've just found 10,000 ways that won't work."


1.Learn from the mistakes of others. There's an old Zen proverb that states: "It takes a wise man to learn from his mistakes, but an even wiser man to learn from others."


1.Don't be afraid to show and tell others you love them. Life is short so learn to give and receive love. Love and be loved.


1.Live so that there is only standing room at your funeral. Be the best spouse, parent, friend, boss, worker that you can be and leave the world a better place than you found it.


"The difference between school and life? In school, you're taught a lesson and then given a test. In life, you're given a test that teaches you a lesson."
Tom Bodett

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A pessimist sees the difficulty in every opportunity; an optimist sees the opportunity in every difficulty. Winston Churchill

Optimism is the faith that leads to achievement. Nothing can be done without hope or confidence. Helen Keller

There are always flowers for those who want to see them. Henri Matisse

The World is what we think it is. If we can change our thoughts, we can change the world. H.M. Tomlinson


Plato Quotes

For a man to conquer himself is the first and noblest of all victories.
Wise men speak because they have something to say; Fools because they have to say something.
Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.
Poetry is nearer to vital truth than history.

Better a little which is well done, than a great deal imperfectly.
Love is a serious mental disease.
And what, Socrates, is the food of the soul? Surely, I said, knowledge is the food of the soul.
The greatest wealth is to live content with little.
At the touch of love everyone becomes a poet.
Death is not the worst that can happen to men.
There are three classes of men; lovers of wisdom, lovers of honor, and lovers of gain.

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Since this year I was very busy, so I seldom went to read poetry. I did attend to several poetry workshop. I prefer workshop to Open Mic. The main reason is that Open Mic often has no discussion or detailed feedback. Some people read loud, others may not have good pace to read their poems, so it isn’t easy to catch up their reading. However at workshop, everyone gets a copy to share, so I can read it by myself and think about the meanings and the skills. Then I can understand it better and provide feedback. The most important is that I also can hear how others react after they truly read them. Not like the Open Mic, people nod their heads without listening.
Tonight I went to reading session again. I found some new faces and others, old friends. It was great to see them and also to know there still are many people keep their hopes and dreams.
Since my two year study plan will be completed soon, I will have time to resume my co-chair of CFP Mississauga Poetry event. So I will continue monthly reading events or host poetry workshop soon.
I am also glad TOP poetry event will resume soon, I will be there too. I want to build the experience and skills by learning from different people and different events.

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To say Good Night
is to draw a line,
and you enter an open world.

You let the river flow,
it rises up to the starry sky.

There the line becomes Milk Way.
You watch a bridge glow
among wings of magpies,
wondering who is
on the other end.

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更多的时候，
你不能去设想如果。
一条河的流向不是风所能决定的。
你手心捂着的算不上秘密，
打开和闭合，结果还是一样。
谁又在乎呢？言语更象布道的，
那些能听进去的耳朵呢？

夜像密集的森林，
长满倾听的耳朵，
而雨如此自由，
来去汇集成声音的海洋。

黑夜被教士隐喻成死海，
他们无法得知你叙述的晚安，
晚安，唯那里你寄语天堂！

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By Jason
Guitar Camp!
Hello people. My name is Jason. Yeah! Rock on! Today I will talk about how
It feels to be a rock star! ( I mean how much fun and what I did in the
two weeks of Guitar Camp. There are 6 strings on a guitar, but I am going
to talk about ten notes (Just think about each day as one note).

On the first note, the two teachers tuned our guitars. There were supposed to
be three teachers; one teacher named Jim came at half past ten. We sat
down and learned our strings and notes. We did that for one hour and
thirty minutes. Then sports camp came into the room to eat their snack , so
we did too. After the snack, we went outside. We played outside. Then at twelve
o’clock we came back into the room to eat our lunches, and we learned about
techniques on the guitar. We started to play until we had to go home.

Every day we followed the same pattern, learning something
different on the guitar each day.

On the last day from half past one to four o’clock we had a mini party, with
junk food to eat such as chips, pizza, and fortune cookies. At three
o’clock we played music for our parents and we did this in three large
groups.

If you want to know which part was my favorite part, here it is: it is at
lunch time because I can play my DS at that time.

I learned a lot of things on the guitar and learned how to read tabs. So I
think you should encourage everyone to try it out.
Thank you for your time, and for reading my summary of
Guitar Camp!!!

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The flowers in my vase
spread dense scent tonight.
They were picked up along a trail,
With name unknown.
They bloom in my glass for weeks,
Only tonight, when I sit down,
I notice where the aroma comes from.

I don’t know if they too wait for someone,
their fragrance gets fading and faint.
Sooner or later, they will be plucked out
and dumped to decay, Alas,
their scent who will bear in mind?

Yet tonight, I gaze at them,
Inhaling their silent sharing,
grateful to be with them
In this moment, and witness their beauty
before it is too late.

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Yesterday was the last session of Jason’s basketball game for summer. It went very well. Jason scored more than ten goals for his team. He made great progresses. He dripped very well and passed excellent balls. He led the team and guided them in cheering mood.

Other parents praised Jason too. They told me that Jason was so good and he made everyone feel at home.
Each week, we all go to basketball court nearby our house to play basketball. Now I am a good player too. I wonder why I was not a good player in my school time. Time flies, and people change.

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今天怎么呢？其他人都在家工作？

也好，我一个人逍遥

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当你老了，
某个冬夜，我会不期然来到。
在你静寂的炉火前，
看着你缓缓地沉睡。
也许我会亲吻一下你的额头，
那里犁田一样耕耘着收获，
也许我还会抚摸你苍老的手掌，
读着你未尽的心事。

炉火会慢慢褪去，
飞扬的雪总会抹去我来去的痕迹，
也许你已经忘记，
在你的梦里重现的青春
烙印的诗句，
在月光下被一个人静静忆起。


English version

When you are old,
I may arrive at night in winter.
Without your expecting,
sitting by a quiet fire,
I watch you sleep soundly.
I may kiss you on your forehead
where time plows wisdom terraces.
I may caress your rough palm,
and soothe your incomplete wishes.

The fire will slowly die out,
Falling snow will cover my footprints.
And you, you may have forgotten
the recurring youth in your dreams
and your poems on print,
which are recalled by someone
who wanders under the moon.

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When I see the woods,
I think of Frost.
I remember his thrush; and
his last song through dusk,
the light dying out.
I can hear the wind sighing -
two roads departs,
one unfolds his journey,
the other, left behind in his dream.

Gazing at his receding figure,
I know I too have paths to debate,
I know I too have miles to wade.
And I take a road to share,
and miles to stay close,
for as long
as we are.

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Yes. He said so
after I received the applauses.
Holding my hand tightly,
he was relieved.

No. It was nothing
related to romance.
Instead, he took the hint
of changes.

So he moved away to another
vocation, and another city
faraway
in another country.

A new beginning
with the dandelions’ dream.

How about me?

Five years later,
The speech silently
waits for changing.

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http://www.vaannila.com/struts-2/struts-2-tutorial/struts-2-tutorial.html

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I like this summer very much. It is cooler and rains a lot. It is much like the one in Vancouver.
I remember the summer in 2005 we visited Vancouver. I was very impressed by the beautiful and cool weather. I wish I could live there after I retire. But the house price is much higher, so I don’t know.
I kind of getting used to Toronto, though winter is too long and summer too short. So we always stay here in summer and save vacations for winter. In winter, we plan to take vacation in warm places.
These two days it gets hot. But this morning it rained and we got up early. Since I work at home on Tuesday, I take my son for a nice walk. It only takes 15 minutes, but it feels so fresh and clean outside.
After that I start my work. But most of the time, if it is hot outside, I will stay inside. I may go for walk at night. When the air cools down and the night quiets, I am so glad to be out there.
I am glad we have a trail back our house. The trail attracts many birds and small animals. There are also many unknown flowers. It just feels like countryside, quiet and peaceful.

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You marvel how life turns
on the pages.
You wonder
how you can reach
a man’s dream while it
floating on the river of time,
though the strings between his promises were broken
and buried among barren deserts and wild alcohol.

Gold and hope were under the touch
of fragile unforeseen wind,
his grasp was full of thorny invalid.
Behind his shadows,
his family were tolerated all,
with deep love and compassion
toward his glass vision.

You know the glass breaks in our daily life,
Nobody cares no trace of any dream.
You admire the man for his pursuit,
and take the torch of his passion,
you know night falls soon.

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相框里的玫瑰静静地
开放在墙上，这是一种约定。
除了对面的镜子，还有窗前的
一个人懂。他的影子在镜子里，
距离总是若即若离，这种沉默
在夜幕下放大着雨夜的沙沙声。

你的镜头对准空寂的一堵墙，
你相信那些无人读懂的水印，
岁月在瞳仁里留下静静的
忧伤和快乐，
有如断桥下一把张开的雨伞。

你收起雨伞，你知道雨的去处，
你的夜漂泊在秋天的荷塘深处。

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我今年还有十八天假，因为不能累计到明年，所以得陆续休掉。

准备每一两周休一天，带儿子去不同的地方。比如科学馆，艺术馆等。
另外的用来给一个学院的留学生做辅导。

休不完的就在年底，我们去海岸航游。不过圣诞节本来就有一周假。所以那时还是有时间。

这个周五去科学馆，TERRY家很近，我们会顺道看看他的大后院，见他的猫。。。另外儿子写的作文，他说要Terry 看看。现在儿子很能交朋友，也愿意把他写的拿出来。

我总是说写得很好哟，如果再那样写，你看看会不会更好的。。。

有时我就只说好。孩子就是要鼓励，只要他肯写，多写，小问题后面慢慢可以再改。这点就像我，我只需要他的勇气和兴趣。

比如他五岁时，我们办诗歌朗诵比赛，我们动员他参加，说有奖品哟，参加的都有。他怎么都不愿。（胆小）所以我们就算了。 但比赛当天，他和小万玩得很开心，他喜欢小万姐姐，看小万参加比赛，一点也不怕。他就找到坐在评委席上的我，说，“妈妈，我也想参加。”

我说，“那好，赶快找主持。"

他作为最小的一个参加了比赛。得了个参与奖，开心极了。我们也开心，因为我很佩服他的勇气，临时上场，并没有表现出胆怯，朗诵得还不错，有模有样的。
也许因为我在电话里和Terry 讨论了很多次诗歌，所以有天醒了，他说妈妈，我好像写了首诗，我说是吗，那一定要记下来。所以我们记下来。
后来我给Terry 电话，读我的诗时，儿子说读一下我的，给他听。 我很高兴，儿子很愿意分享。
他的诗虽小，但还是有点味道。
http://coviews.com/weblog_entry.php?e=10610

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今早车开到高速上了，才发现自己没带眼镜。。。
只好开在最靠边的高速路上，希望别出事故。

下班后要选择普通公路，慢点开。小心为妙。

以后要在车里放一副配用眼镜，像我马大哈，发生几次回家拿眼镜的事了。

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去年外文局的一位年轻编辑偶尔查到我的英文诗歌网站，联系上我。说喜欢我的双语诗，问我有意出版不。我当然愿意，只是很实在地说，也许可以等我写得更好时再考虑。我总是在等，
也总是在修改，因为一旦出版就不好修改了。而我的想法是先看看有无出版商找我，如果有，说明有市场价值，如果没有，到我认为写得还可以时，自己再联系出版。
我们来回联系了很多次，我也做了书的手稿和倡议书，但最终没通过老主编，说纯粹诗歌很难有市场。
她们建议我不如写诗歌小品文，以分析和分解海外知名女诗人的一节诗句，引出不同的人生故事和哲理性的小品。她们希望我能写这一类，中英文夹杂着，主打市场是国内知性女性。
我觉得我并不擅长小品，另外没有太多时间分析别人和了解海外女诗人的故事，更不敢拾人牙慧。所以就推掉了。而后四川地震，这事就摞至一边。
加拿大这边有几个小出版商找我，主要费用是自己承担。我当时总是想等再得一些奖，再发表一些作品，更多认可了，再出版。所以一直没给手稿。但现在我的想法变了，因为真正好一点的加拿大出版商，每年只从收到的手稿中选择4-7本诗集出版，而且出版档期排在两年之后。
即使很幸运被选中出版了，在书店里，文学一类书上三个月架，如果没有销量，书店会把它们撤下去，退还给出版商。我们到过一个出版商库房，很多箱子里都是退货，连打开都没有过。
而图书馆的诗歌一类书，如果三年，无人借阅，就退出流通渠道。（除了中央图书馆留一两本做记录。）所以很多诗歌书，我是从本地图书馆借不到的，要么从来没进过，要么也清出去了。
现在出版诗集真是两难，所以很多诗人选择自费出版，也只印少量，既然没有市场，又何必为此去策划诗集的主题系列，迎合别人的口味，而不是自己的初衷呢。
而我考虑出版，有我其他的计划和目的。并不是单纯为了出版。九月份我的课程项目也需要我提供四十页诗歌手稿，再两次全面修改。再让评委们考证。所以我可以好好利用他们的意见，认真做这个项目，看看具体怎么样去走，能够有点意义和价值。我要认真想想。

诗歌于我出不出版，发表不发表，都是我的至爱。而我还想做另一件事，也觉得自己有能力做下去，也很开心去做。

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The distance between us
grows thorns, tall and dense.
The unceasing rain drenches the sharpness
and pokes an island of silence.

More and more,
I stare at the night's curtain,
as if the comet falls.

I miss the Bird's Nest
in which our anthem arose,
wings back home.

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昨天朋友来带来几个留学生，我们就订了PIZZA，留她们吃午餐。下午去按摩，
利用公司福利放松了一下。还有20多次可以去。晚上儿子看DVD,我们看LIES TO ME.
有时间再写写诗，回回贴。
今一早，起来读了几首Robert Frost 的诗，想渐渐培养自己的语感。然后做点家务，当然是边听自己喜爱的音乐。：）
再看看几个国内女诗人的博客，感觉诗歌潮流很HIGH. 看得我不敢说话。：） 以后需要大胆点写。
也读了poets.org 的几个现代诗人的。。。也有这样的感觉，不过她们的更具体，更辩证，更复杂。
再陪儿子吉他调音，他刚上完吉他宿营，因为有钢琴的基础，自己练习得还不错。
以后弹唱，可能更容易培养音乐兴趣。
今天还得给他加个作文，写他吉他宿营的事。下午送他游泳，下棋。我们买菜。
晚上回来再读读书，看看连续剧。一天过得很快，不过也很幸运。

想想按摩师傅说的，有什么都好，就是不要有病，没什么都行，就是不能没钱。
我觉得也对， 不过，钱吗，能保证生活就行。
快乐自有其他的方式，不一定金钱就能实现。
我想诗歌是我的快乐。爱上诗歌是多么地容易。
每个人能找到自己的爱好，真的就会开心充实。
学会自己快乐吧：）

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http://www.onlink.net/johndonlan/AcrossTheLine.html

for Elizabeth MacCallum and John Fraser



You learn patience from white pine:
everything the wind wanted to say
confined to a few gestures. When the wind
insists, all the branches point one way.

You learn anarchy from grass: in its forest
of columns, all more or less the same height,
distinguishing individual stems in the green and gold
distance is wonderful training for the sight.

You learn protection from granite, a patron
of the art of ancient, delicate lichen: you walk
carefully, and when the white-throated sparrow
sings, "Dear, sweet, Canada, Canada, Canada," you don’t talk.

Seeing water beyond water, you learn loss:
you might never go there, and even here
there is more than you have time to love
in your brief life -- look how deep, how clear!



July 8 1999

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除了空间，还是空间，
可以包容过去，现在以及未来，
一切可以反转，反转，再反转，
这也包括我自己。

可以放下，放下，再放下，
也可以腾起，漂浮或者沉湎，下潜。
距离不是问题，时间也不是问题，
风和雨，爱和恨，一切都可以结成因果。
甚至可以把自己作为观众
或导演，上演完美的事实。
更多的时候，把世界关在身后，忘了自己。

这个世界，我可以孤单地走进来，
自由得像空气，微小得像粒子。
并且买好了返程车票，
随时准备踏上归尘。

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I know them better than you.
With horror, I prefer not to mention.

I watch you debating
whether they are like mirrors –
one reflects fire,
the other, ice.

To me, they both are doors,
irreversible when entering:
one, sweet or bitter by unpredicted revolving,
the other, ending with a harsh and sudden swing.

Most of the time, they are in disguise,
beckoning us with a horse-driven carriage,
or a shallow river.
We ride on ‘til the hidden cliff,
we dive in to the bleeding pain.

At the end, we look back,
our past falls in silence.

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心情好不好都可以换台，
转到天气预报吧。
你看主播神情飞扬，
无论风暴或雨雪
都倾注着热情。
你觉得不解，风暴就是风暴，
怎么能变成一场轻喜剧？

这些功夫当然不在台上，
你在镜子里也练过。
只是镜子更了解你，
冷冷地它从来不予捧场，
它知道这是一种修辞。

而梦成为精美的嫁衣，
里里外外你可以穿无数层，
然后一件件脱去，
却并不知晓这也是修辞。

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连续几个夜晚，江南浸水。
你只写下一首诗的第一行，
那依次捡拾起的石子，
沿着水面如低飞的鸟翼
噗哧噗哧，纷纷落下，
余下的句子断不成章。

等着水退，低洼处已看不见
溅落的伤痕，你的手指
缠着反反复复的一句，
马蹄声掠过江南。

敲吧，细雨,
如你击键的起起落落.
谁家倾斜的瓦砾上，
沾湿了漫长的黎明？

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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ILPbJHqEXu8

http://www.poemhunter.com/li-young-lee/poems/page-1/

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《歌德談話錄》中「對青年詩人的忠告」：世界如此遼闊，生活如此豐富，你不會缺乏寫詩的動因，你只要寫即興的詩（原文Gelegenheitsgedichte，應機緣而寫的詩）就足夠了。現實生活既提供詩的機緣，也提供詩的材料。一個特殊具體的情境經過詩人的處理，就能變成帶有普遍性和詩意的東西。我全部的詩都是即興的詩，都是從現實生活中取得堅實的基礎，我瞧不起空中樓閣的詩。不要抱怨現實生活中沒有詩意，詩人的本領正在於他有足夠的智慧，能從司空見慣的平凡事物中看出引人入勝的側面......也無需迴避前人用過的題材，因�琶恳粋�詩人對同一個題材都會有不同的看法，會按照自己的方式去處理......世界總是永遠一樣的，一些情境經常重現，這個民族和那個民族一樣過生活、談戀愛、動感情，那某個詩人的作品為什不能和另一個詩人一樣呢？生活的情境可以相同，�攀�詩的情境就不可以相同呢。

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I write this to you,
imagining my pen
as an illuminating egg.
I breathe upon it,
yet it splits into two.

Being a lonely half,
aloof in the sky,
you sprinkle your silvery stardust
and proclaim:
Like the heaven, the sun,
I rise and rise.

Yet I descend as a paring knife
peeling a pear naked and alone,
and the rotten door swung into a dim house.
I witness a fish hooked to a rocky shore,
and a trembling tree under lightning.

On the edge of fingertips,
we both outlive
the softness of our lips,
the fright of our nerve,
the sadness of our cells,
and the warmth of our blood.

Now as I write this to you,
I wonder how my voice finds you,
no matter which part we become,
no matter what else our lives hold.
 

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http://www.usatoday.com/news/opinion/2001-09-25-ncguest1.htm

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http://www.poetryarchive.org/poetryarchive/singlePoet.do?poetId=7078

http://epaper.pchome.com.tw/archive/last.htm?s_date=old&s_dir=20090623&s_code=0237&s_cat=

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除了苹果，我对梨有别样的感觉。
我在餐桌上摆放它们，却舍不得品尝。
渐渐它们从桌上退去，上了墙上的画框。

偶尔它们出现在我的梦里，
同时出现的一个是我亲密的
爱人，另一个却很陌生。
他们靠得很近，就象
在画中，光泽辉映，
阴影交叠。
透过深瞭的眼神，
我不自禁伸出手，
却每每梦醒。

水果的乳酸味就这样
在清凉的夜色中蔓延。

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We talked it over last night.
Like a burning yam, too hot,
we feared to taste
the soft sweetness.

Sleeping alone
I awoke at midnight –
pondered what we dropped
in our conversation.

In another room,
you slept soundly.
You had no idea
what was hanging in the air.
Outside, rain tapped
the slanted eaves.

Like the pale predawn tide
I crept to your side.
You embraced me
to your warm shore.

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昨晚，我梦见燕子了。
旧时同窗，在同一辆
列车上相遇，并无意于招呼，
彼此似乎忙着寻找什么。
醒来，我迷惑不解。
寻找什么呢？
就这样梦醒, 我不觉惋惜。
至少我们该叙叙旧吧。

清晨，我沿着湖边转了一圈。
湖边木椅上坐着一位老人，
孤单地喂着鸟雀。
我摸了摸口袋，
一枚硬币，一把花生米。
我丢了几粒出去，
一只知更鸟落下，探头探脑。
我突然荒凉如列车上的找寻。

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在开心地做着家庭煮妇和园艺花匠，

也是幸福。

以后我也要好好学习一下。不过最重要的是要品尝一下

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Neither could we hide feelings -
they are like gushing springs among melting snow,
or an emerging moon from thin clouds,
Nor could we bury them -
they become our ordinal life
like apples, pears and plums in a kitchen plate.

But, we can make an agreement -
frame them on the living room’s wall
and nail them behind iron bars.
Beyond a knife’s threats,
we can continue admiring their existence,
escaping ourselves into a surreal view.

When the wall grows packed,
old paintings will be removed.
Still, one by one, unseen from the wall,
yet visible in our heart.

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（一）

去花瓶岛的快艇上，
导游提醒我们护好自己的帽子，
它们就象鸟，随风飞走。
儿子听了，赶紧把帽子摘下，
紧紧抓在手里。
我说给我戴吧，我头大，风吹不怕。

湖心处，大风起，把帽子一卷，
眨眼的功夫，连影子也没见。
两年的时间，一提起帽子，
儿子眼泪汪汪，最心爱的失去。


（二）

今生最难忘的是迪斯尼乐园。
闭上眼睛陪儿子玩了从不敢玩的项目，
自此发现另一个天地，绝妙的神奇。

从空中遨游到激流勇进，
付出了勇气，收获了奇妙。
只是为此我失去了一副墨镜。
而失物处十多副类似的墨镜，
当然还有其他物品，欣慰自己不是唯一。

只不过唯一的是我竟不知道
自己每天戴的墨镜是什么品牌，
还是没有品牌，最后经过合理推测
和时间地点鉴定，终于认定一副。

第二天戴了一整天，回来发现
还是丢了。
整理前几天照片，惊奇于
原来我领回的不是自己的。
于是结论道，
不是自己的总会失去。

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凡人免不了失常。
失常的时候你会发现
意外的事接二连三。
比如我的安全卡，
本来不该我值班，
但同事病了，偏偏警报来了。
好了，找吧，这才发现电脑包的外层有个洞。
车里车外找遍，办公室和停车场扫描，
结论丢了。
灰心之处，报失处通知有人送回。

坏事就变成好事，让你及时失而复得。
当然这取决于你看生活的角度问题。
世上总有些事你并不想失而复得，
有时你干脆闭上眼睛，失去角度。
比如失眠，失落，失意，失常，失利等等，
好不容易好了，好不容易好了。
你反复告诉自己难得。

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You hear it,
and I hear soon after.
you are in your weary ponder;
I am in my sleepless mess.

A tap at the door,
the silken sad uncertain rustling thrills you,
you swing the door open;
the moon steps back,
I turn the page.

A tap at the window lattice.
The silence was unbroken,
and the darkness gave no token.
You fling the shutter,
I listen to your soul, restless.

Nevermore.
The raven fades into shadows.



http://www.poedecoder.com/essays/raven/

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This morning I woke up Jason. He told me, "Mom, I guess I just wrote a poem"
"What? Tell me, what is it about?"
"It is about a girl who likes drawing."
"Could you write it down?"

"Sure."

Here it is.

The Drawing Girl

She stays in one spot,
watches us as we sleep,
then wake up.

I wonder if she likes us
or want to play with us,
but I feel friendship in between.

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中药，满房子的中药味。
好友气色红润地告诉我，
这个管用。

我失眠不是一两年了，
照理算，步入更年期，实在太早。
我的结论：青春期。
我并不相信任何药物，更不去寻找偏方。
却相信了那六十岁老妇说的故事，
幸福什么时候都有，我很自然地
开始憧憬。

好友摸了一下我前额，
笑了，还好，没发烧。
我也笑笑，心病而已。

盛了半碗给自己，
好友呼唤老公来喝。
我乐了，这，怎么回事？

好友在我耳根边吞吞吐吐，
听说再生一个，
女性那个会推迟。。。

哦，真是更年期问题，
我却更多地担心难产和高风险。

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Life is not easy.
We grab it, like grasping
a coin in our hand,
hesitating to open.
We fear the truth
no matter which face,
it turns up.

Who can blame us?
Coins are of many kinds,
copper, silver,
if we are lucky, gold,
though all have
cold faces.

So we keep flipping it
avoid facing either side.
Hardly getting to know our truth,
light or dark, shallow or deep
we claim we are too busy
in this life.

Eventually our time is up.
From our pale funeral
shattered fragments float out;
the life we once lived
is muter than our body,
lying dead.

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By Jason Liu
Ms. Roopy is Loopy
The story is about a boy named A.J. He goes to a school called Ella Mentry School. The school has a new librarian who name is called Ms. Roppy. Every time a class has library, she dresses up in a costume. Every one detects her that she is still Ms. Roopy, but no one can convince her.

A.J and his friends went to the library and snuck into the closet of Ms. Roopy’s office. They found the costumes she wore were in the closet. Ms. Daisy asked if A.J likes Nursery Rhymes. A.J answered “No” Then Ms. Daisy asked “What do you like?” A.J said “trick bikes”.

The next day Ms. Roopy came in with a trick bike. And she was dressed like a professional trick biker. She asked “Who wants a trick bike book?” A.J. and his two friends said “me”. So Ms. Roopy gave one book to each boy.


By Jason Liu
Mr. Klutz is Nuts

The story is about a principal that named Mr. Klutz. He is nuts. He showed Ms Daisy’s class about gravity. He slipped off and hit his leg. The whole school had to do math questions if they wanted chocolates. Then Mr. Klutz came in with a pig and bent down. Before we knew it, he kissed the pig. Then Mr. Klutz gave a challenge to the whole school. He said, “If you write an election essay, I will climb the flag pole.” When he was about to get down, his foot got stuck on the rope of the flag pole. Ms Daisy went to the flag pole and took the knot out and made Mr. Klutz came down like a real flag pole did. Then Mr. Klutz gave them another challenge. He said,”
If you write one hundred thousand words without any wrong, I would jump on a pogo stick and dress in a turkey costume.” So when the students did the task, he jumped on a pogo stick and dressed like a turkey. Then he said, “If the school has the highest reading score in the country, I will paint my head orange.” Finally, he gave the second last test to the school, and said, “If we get enough box tops, I will buy a new computer for the media center.” So they did it. Then he said they would go to the water world, if they read a million minutes. They completed the task, so they went to the water world and had a lot of fun.

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翘翘板再坐下去，已经显得沉重。
岁月并没有把你们拉得更近。
心事却多了一重又一重。
这时你就想忘了那些锋芒的起伏，
平静地坐在一起，用心去倾听。
仿佛在同一只出海的帆船上，
不知不觉，你已学会
不用伸出手指就能判定风的方向。
并且伸出舌尖就能知道风的味道，
咸的预示风暴，甜的表象潜伏期。
更多的可能是味道难以分辨 -
就好比开阔的水面，一群殴鸟飞过，
它们掠过的波澜象现在
你心的波澜在月色下徜徉。

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I borrowed the book "Everyman's Poetry" by Dylan Thomas from a friend of mine. He wanted to discuss some poems from the book with me. But our library has rare poetry books, so he lent me the book and we will share the comments in a few days.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xg-_ah0JfhU&feature=related

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a7N5ODlswiE&feature=related

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rHHqA1CJLCs&feature=related

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桌上的一盘梨看起来
很像墙上的静物画，
只是面对一把刀，
它知道现实。
虽然它也想知道切开后
里面有些什么，
它却期待主人起身送客。

画中的梨却想走出来，
面对这把刀，
它知道梦想
镶进了遗忘的角落，
以致无人品尝。

那拿刀的手却在犹豫，
不清楚应该是否拿只笔？

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We board a small sailing boat,
five of us, a team of IT professionals.
We need little science logic,
but practice and experience.

Taking the sailing boat to the open water,
we start a journey that we have no specific plan.
We let the wind pick up our path,
and wait,and trust.

The wind puff our wings like a thunder bird’s,
surfing under the blue sky,
where the First Nation retreated,
yet their named lake has remained.
They didn’t know the strange bird from
the horizon was a sailing boat
from the other half sphere,
until more and more arrived.

After switched the sails.
our sailing boat takes a smooth turn,
We watch the shore faraway,
smiling.

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不想告诉你，在世人的镜子里，
他们看到了什么，只想告诉你，
在我的镜子里，我看到了什么。
并且知道在你的镜子里，
你看到了什么。

世人并不懂得镜子，
所以我们如此亲近。
并愿意展露真实。

在世人那里，我们懂得
如何穿得厚重，以及披上面具。
以致我们如此遥远而陌生。
只有眼睛是我们穿越的河，
它们停留在镜子上，照见彼此。

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邻居的树边新栽了金银花，
淡黄的小花，香气飘得很远。
邻居给我剪下一大把，
说一个星期，你的房子都会芬芳。

那时我们心里正画着
海市蜃楼，并且很傻地认为，
这样一辈子，我们的梦都会甜美。

金银花越爬越高，
最上面的很快枯死。
而我们离家越来越远，
海市蜃楼却越画越小。

我们有了新的邻居，
院子也开满丁香茉莉。
只是在梦里，还是金银的飘香？

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同事的小船，可能晕船。

：） 不怕。。。

大家早嚷着上船开会，今天天气好，工作不忙，所以开船了。

本来在家上班，现先杀到公司，再一起去湖边开船.

我喜欢热闹冒险。 个性使然。

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仿佛你的刀
在我的心口滑过，
两滴血渗出。
一滴鲜红，一滴暗黑。

你愈合的手敲打着文字，
蚂蚁爬进散落的门栏。

我敞开的伤口
端详那久弃的梨，
一夜无眠。

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I read poems to you,
most of them written for others.

I diligently work on words
to build a world and an intimate life
out of the steel cage –

Sometimes for fish, birds or trees ;
Other times for an invisible friend
or myself.

You listen,
line by line,
to shape a rainbow
and remove the worm.

Whenever I receive praises,
I remember each of them
grows the tribute to you.

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This book is ours-
each line of yours,
footnotes of mine follow.

We bind our imagination into thick volume,
longing hidden among delicate threads.
Our words form armies of ants -
they traverse the sphere for hunting.
They climb up our fingers,
bite our naked skin;
pink drops in crowds of tadpoles,
voices ripple outwards a summer lake.

This book is the lake,
we are fish inside.
We swim there at night,
and sigh upon each wave.
A river rises under the moonlight.
Pre-dawn, we float out;
my face is the moon,
yours, the morning sun.

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很容易跳进童话故事，
并成为它的主人。
这一次我们进了
小矮人的森林小屋，
面对毒苹果的诱惑，
囚牢自己。

拉埋窗帘，在小矮人出去之际，
我们讲叙自己的故事，
幻想着苹果切割之处，
隐藏的星辰。

而洪水泛起，
在等待诺亚方舟之时，
我们一直坚信，
我们都是好孩子。

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A fortuneteller spins his crystal ball
in front of me,
declaring he can enter my dream.

I close my eyes,
seeing a blue train pass by,
the one with no sign of destination.
A stranger sits facing me;
the same spot,
the similar sunglasses,
more than one time,
I recall we rode on the same lonely train.
On a transfer station,
I get off and look back,
no trace of him.

The fortuneteller wakes me up,
and I ask him
if he has seen anything.

He replies,“A circle”.

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今天和朋友聊了一个小时诗歌。很感谢他的分享。第一次听到不同的见解。以往我和朋友，或者我的老师谈诗歌，都是针对一首诗歌而言，但这次他提出了一些值得探讨的个性化和未来的思索。

比如个人风格的形成，自我寻求的做一个什么样的诗人。

我很少考虑过这些问题，只是觉得自己就像火山，爆发时就写。写了就痛快。这样写的多变，但缺少统一和深度。

所以以后得多思考，同时也希望多与高手交流。

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I went camping on June 27th. I went with my mom dad. There also were
Christina’s family, Kevin’s and Kenny’s family, and Annie’s family. We
went to Bruce Peninsula.

It took us to get there 4 hours and 30 minutes. We built our tents and
then went Singing Sand Beach. The water was really deep. I could not go
really far, so I stayed in one spot and tried to catch tad poles. It was
really hard to catch the tadpoles. Other people came back after one hour
or at least it felt like it was one hour.

After that Christina, Annie, and I made some drawings on the sand.
Christina and I had a sand ball fight or it was a mud ball fight, either
way it was fun. Annie and Christina made some cookies while I made a
Grand Canyon in the sand. I made the Grand Canyon because the cookie
needed water. I made it beside the water by hand. It was about 7 o’clock
when we got back to our campsite. Kevin’s family bought the Firewood for
us. We cooked some marshmallows and went to brush our teeth. My mom and I
slept about 9 o’clock.

The next day, we were supposed to go canoeing, but it was raining. Annie
was watching Soul Eater so we watched too.
After Christina and I saw the movie, she thought it was the best movie
ever. All of us said Death the Kid, Liz, and Patty were our favorite
characters. We also played President. President is a game with cards.
After the rain stopped, we went hiking. We went on three trails. We saw
two people dive off the cliff. When we had to go to the washroom we had to
cover our business with wood chucks.

On the 3rd day we went canoeing and played cards. We had two boats. One
was rented (canoe) and the other was Annie’s (small boat). The canoe
could have 2 adult and 2 children. The small boat could have 1 adult and
2 children. Each boat had life jackets. Annie and Christina were first
on the small boat with an adult. They did not go far. My dad with
Christina’s dad came with the canoe. Kevin and I went on the canoe first.
Once the small boat came back, Kelly went on the boat. Once I rowed the
canoe for the whole time. Christina and I skipped and threw rocks in the
water. We tried to push a boat away with a sleeping man inside (Annie’s
dad). He came back because he wasn’t far from shore and had pedals
inside.

The 4th day we were supposed to go home. Before leaving the camping site,
we went to a special place to eat and play. Before all of that happened
we caught some lobsters that were beside a shore. I did it two times. The
first time I did it at 6:00am and the second time at 11:00am. I fell into
the water once at 11:00am because the rocks were slippery. I changed my
clothes. I found 2 big lobsters and my dad caught them. Everyone else
caught 8 lobsters with my dad’s help in total. My dad and I caught 7 in
total by ourselves. We went to the special place and it was a beach.
Annie was not there because she had an appointment with a doctor.
Christina and I asked if we could throw the dog ball and the owner said
yes. We threw the dog’s ball in the water and it swam in the water to get
it. Christina and I jumped over waves and tried to make a cookies and I
tried to make a dam. After that, we ate at Subway. Then we started for
home. That’s my summary of The Day I went camping.

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http://www.essentiallifeskills.net/

http://www.unicef.org/lifeskills/index_whichskills.html

http://www.personality-power-for-everyday-living.com/Myers-Briggs-Personality-Test.html

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门开了又关，关了又开，
仿佛这就是门存在的理由。
而我们永远在门的背后，
以为这样才能保全它的神秘，
并完整地记述每一片段的故事。

很多时候，是门在移动，
我们可以这样说，并不是我们。
风景在另一边，很从容地给予每个人
观看的权利，而我们视角不同，
更多地争辩着谁正在当局？

这座房子充满着记忆和装修后
的痕迹，紫玫瑰爬满了围栏。
偶尔有小鸟散落的羽毛，
飘起，风铃一阵阵不停！


We open it, and close it;
then open it again,
as if this is the reason for its existence.
We hide behind it,
with a thought that could keep its mystery,
and record each fragment of our story.

Most of the time, it is the door moving;
we keep saying that, not that we move.
The landscape is on the other side,
free for sightseeing. We watch it
from different angles, debating who is in the picture.

The house is full of recollection and
traces of renovation. Purple roses climb up our fences.
A few feathers drop then rise again,
the wind-bell rings with no stop.

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渡口喂鸭


老同学鸳鸯伴侣


护送小将




情迷树根




跳水勇士




海盗合影

冲浪


临渊织网


用上了据说聪明加巧手的老同学现编的新工具，再次抓虾

Rain

You don’t pray for rain in the mountains.
It comes and goes as if to home.
The soil is forever soft to preserve it to the depth.
The leaves unfold themselves to hold each drop.
Sometimes the rain wanders like clouds,
Other times it runs into the rising stream.
In the end of each cycle, you always hear it singing
all the way home, kissing the leaves, tapping the trees.
Still, some drops stay longer on the tall branches
until the sky clears up.
All of a sudden, a wind blows;
they let go –
A light shower surprises you
sitting motionless
under the tree.


To the Rocks

To the Rocks

It is easy to pose with a happy face, grinning
or wander along the rocky shore,
skipping a row of stones like butter-fly kisses
across the water.

More and more come and go like us,
taking scenic photographs as souvenirs,
framing their flashed moments in memory,
in the moon-shaped bay,
under the warm sunbeams.

You stand at distance,
watching tides of visitors
extending their arms in the cool winds;
rain forms in your invisible eyes.

At midnight, when the moon fails to appear,
darkness begins to surround you.
You sigh who will return and listen to
tides of silence.