regret

from Purple Starfish by Xu Demin

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And I could not help regretting
That I made decorative patterns on my desk
Of your solidified tears
Now I have set up a miniature gravestone
In the quiet of my heart
If I had not known of your worldly existence
My heart would not have grown this heavy

Not all kindness
Gets the respect it deserves
Not all injuries
Are premeditated a long time
O starfish
Let’s be friends
My heart will be your forest of coral

translated by Fang Dai, Dennis Ding, & Edward Morin

Exodus by Orhan Veli Kanık

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I

From his window overlooking the roofs
The harbor was in sight
Church bells
Tolled all day long.
From his bed the trains could be heard
From time to time
And at night.
He loved a girl
Who lived in the house across the street.
Be that as it may,
He left this town
And moved to another.

II

Now the poplars are in view
Out of his window
Along the canal.
Daytime it keeps raining
And the moon is up at night.
There’s a market in the square nearby.
As for him, all the time,
Whatever it is–a trip or money or a letter,
He keeps thinking of something.

translated by Talat S. Halman

from Deva-like Barbarian, Five Lyrics: Lyric Five by Wei Chunang

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Spring is bright and splendid in the city of Lo-yang;
But the man of Lo-yang grows old in another land.
The willows darken on the Prince of Wei’s embankment;
At this time I am confused and bewildered.

Alongside the blossoming peach, the spring waters run clear;
Mandarin ducks bathe in their freshness.
My regret gathers force in the setting sun;
I think of you, but you do not know it.

translated by Lois M. Fusek

Tune: “Immortal at the River” by Su Shi

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Drinking at Eastern Slope by night,
I sober, then get drunk again.
When I come back, it’s near midnight.
I hear the thunder of my houseboy’s snore,
I knock but no one answers at my door.
What can I do but, leaning on my cane,
Listen to the river’s refrain?

I long regret I am not master of my own.
When can I just ignore the hums of up and down?
In the still night the soft winds quiver
On the ripples of the river.
From now on, I would vanish with my little boat,
For the rest of my life, on the sea I would float.

translated by Xu Yuan-zhong

thinking about my father

/ zdunno03 / 42 Comments

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

on regrets: for the yellowrose

/ zdunno03 / 7 Comments

you say I was right
and you regret everything
you want to talk
but somehow never do
always a mystery
even when you’re transparent
to say I’m sorry
is an understatement
but the life you lead now
was your own doing
choices made
cannot be retracted
and the consequences one pays
are on the other side
of the balance sheet
I’ve no idea what you expect
from me anymore
whatever I felt
was used up long ago
and there’s only a hole
you left in my heart
that I’ve learned to live with
there’s no one here
on this end of the line
that you’d recognize
and wherever you knew me
is not where I am
any longer

Sunday breakfast

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every Sunday I make breakfast
eggs with bacon or sausage
or with tomatoes
an Italian style Turkish breakfast dish
olives usually
sometimes honey for the bread
though I like to dip it in yolk
orange juice
and coffee laced with Baileys
I sit later
a second cup of coffee in hand
and can’t stop the memories
one cropping up mostly lately
of a girl who called me poppa
lived in my house for a while
would get up early each morning
to make me breakfast
Korean style
her smile so sweet, gentle
her eyes filled
I know now just as I knew then
with love
but I chose to not notice
being older then than I am now
and convinced it could not work
no future, I thought
as if I could decide those things
and years later
bits and pieces of her
and those breakfasts
the way she would play music I lent her
in her room all night
and though we rarely talked
she would send these incredibly long emails
telling me about her day
the things the music said to her
her future plans
and encouraged by me
she returned to Korea
to design clothes for other women
and to make breakfast for another man
years ago that was
but time has not faded the memory
and she eventually crept her way
into my books
she in part became a character
and a life almost lived
found its way to live between pages
a poor substitute perhaps
but the way things go in fiction
and now a trace of sadness
as I think of those breakfasts
that smile
life in another dimension
so very far from my own

thanksgiving on the other side of the world

/ zdunno03 / 5 Comments

there are voices calling my name
on the other side of the world
an empty chair
a glass not filled with wine
dark meat with gravy
stuffing with mushrooms
manicotti
and Robert’s famous meatballs and gravy
hot and sweet sausage
broccoli with garlic, lemon and oil
Johnny bought blueberry pie
only I’m not getting a piece
’cause I’m over here
on the other side of the world
quietly finishing a bottle of wine
trying not to think of your voice
the sorrow in the air
fresh flowers don’t quite kill the smell
of disappointment
regret
another year gone by
that empty chair
that bottle of wine unopened
ice cream melting on a plate
Al Martino singing love songs
George serving salad
and you sliding food onto my plate
the cat under the table
my hand reaching across
space
grabbing nothing
grabbing air
on the other side
of the world