A True Account of Talking to A Tulip In a Garden
星期四 三月 19, 2009 1:43 pm
A True Account of Talking to A Tulip In a Garden
“I am here waiting for you
so long, so long…”
The tulip complains,
her head pops up in front of me.
“Sorry, I don’t know.
I just pass by. My days go blank,
nobody waits for me, I think.”
“You are a poet, aren’t you? How surprising, you too
feel desperate!”
I pull up my raincoat’s hood.
“Am I? Maybe you are right. Some call me a poet, others think I am crazy.
Anyway, why do you wait for me?”
The tulip sighs,
“I only have a short time to live. But I
always feel I should outlive the time.
They say it is possible to live forever in a poem, right?”
“I guess so. Some poems do make an eternal life.”
“Great! Could you make one for me, please?”
“Then I guess I should feel honored. But I want to warn you –
I cannot promise.
Sometimes I suspect most of my poems hardly survive.
With positive esteem, I do hope them be mentioned after my death.
But if you want to be remembered right now, you better ask a painter
or a popular poet…”
“But how can I find them, you are the first person who has ever listened to me?”
“Unfortunately your dilemma is mine too, since many don’t listen to me either.”
This time, I sigh.
The tulip lowers her head,
I wonder what to say next.
All in a sudden, a child appears;
he points to the tulip and claims,
“Mom, this is the prettiest tulip!”