Tune: “Jade Butterflies” by Liu Yung

where I gaze
the rain is ending and the clouds break up
as I lean at the rail in anxious silence
seeing off the last of autumn’s glow
the evening scene is lonely
enough to chill Sung Yü to sadness
though touch of wind and rain is light
the duckweed gradually grows older
in moon’s frost cold
the wu-t’ung leaves whirl yellow
giving love is taking pain
where are you now?
the misty waters vast, and vague.

it’s hard to forget
writing or drinking
how many nights alone beneath a clouded moon
again the changes, stars and frost
the seas are broad, the heavens far
and no way home.
the swallows pair
and I depend on letters
I point into the evening sky
to sight in vain the returning boat
at dusk we’ll gaze toward one another
in the sound of the swan’s cry
standing till the slanting sun is set.

translated by Jerome P. Seaton

thinking about my father

I remember how he almost stumbled
going down the aisle
in Our Lady of Peace
to pray the Sunday
before his operation
he seemed frail to me
that day
and I was embarrassed
as if I had a right to be
this man who won 26 fights
one summer
who raised 7 brothers and sisters
because he was the oldest son
after his stepfather died
and then his mother
took them all in
to his home with my mother
newly wed
counted out his tips
on the kitchen table
all those years of his life
those tips that kept us solvent
inflated his salary
to make us almost middle class
the glasses sliding down his proud nose
his hand brushing his hair
as he squinted at the line on boards
cut lumber
put up a new kitchen wall
put a roof on the garage
panelled the bedroom
worked every day of his weekends
to make my mother happy
the odd jobs around the house
that only vacation in East Hampton
when he found peace fishing
or the times we went crabbing
at Montauk Point
he tried to teach me to box
when I asked him what dago meant
and told me never to let anyone
call me that again
if they’re bigger than you
he said
put something in your hands
a stick, a rock
anything
but don’t let anyone
disrespect you
and he looked me in the eye
said there’s only two ways you leave a fight
on your feet
or being carried out
on your back
but you never back down
and when I told him of the picket line
at White Castle
of the things being said at school
he said never judge anyone
till you’ve stood in their shoes
sometimes
after he died
I’d have these conversations
with him in my head
and I’d see those eyes
the way his hands moved
when he talked
the glasses sliding down his nose
the sleeves rolled up
the tie loosened
his voice louder than the rest
and I want to say
Dad, I’d like to know
or
Dad, how is it that
or
Dad, what do you think of
or
how come I’m older
than you ever were
why is that so
and I’m sorry
so sorry I pretended
I didn’t see you on the bus
that night I was coming home
and you sat in the front
reading the paper
the lines in your face
deep from all those years
of work
why was I so stupid
in my teenage years
to let that opportunity
slip by
I’d give anything today
this night
to sit on that bus again
next to you
and talk the whole way home

To The Tune “Plum Blossoms Fall And Scatter” by Li Ch’ing-chao

The perfume of the red water lilies
Dies away. The Autumn air
Penetrates the pearl jade curtain.
Torches gleam on the orchid boats.
Who has sent me a message
Of love from the clouds? It is
The time when the wild swans
Return. The moonlight floods the women’s
Quarters. Flowers, after their
Nature, whirl away in the wind.
Spilt water, after its nature
Flows together at the lowest point.
Those who are of one being
Can never stop thinking of each other.
But, ah, my dear, we are apart,
And I have become used to sorrow.
This love–nothing can ever
Make it fade or disappear.
For a moment it was on my eyebrows,
Now it is heavy in my heart.

translated by Kenneth Rexroth

untitled poem by Nazim Hikmet

Snow closed the road
you weren’t there
kneeling and facing you
I gazed at your face
with my eyes closed.

Ships won’t sail, planes won’t fly
you weren’t there
across from you I was leaning on the wall
I spoke and spoke and spoke
without opening my mouth.

You weren’t there
I touched you with my hands
my hands were on your face.

translated by Talat S. Halman

Cassia Flowers by Li Ch’ing-chao

The twisted limbs break
Into ten thousand flecks of gold,
On layer upon layer of carved jade leaves,
Fresh and bright as the grace of Yen Fu.
The heaps of plum petals seem vulgar.
The lilacs seem coarse and contorted.
Your perfume has broken into
My sorrowful dream of the one
A thousand miles away,
And left me drained of emotion.

translated by Kenneth Rexroth & Ling Chung