Επιμέλεια: Εύα Πετροπούλου Λιανού
15/ Sight may not be real
sight is not a solid perception
in the smog of our existence, woods swallow the steam,
the vitality of the earth, the glittering figure of a child
repeating countless years of existence and love
loud music ravings, bone flute, ocarina*
burning in the wings of time
living condition deciphers history
you or the unknown mountains birth tall trees
earth rises from the mysterious waters
you witness a slender seed bursting out of a stone’s fissure
a leaf flies towards the sunlight, a single word breaks the glacier
covertly returned, meditating on evil and justice
decaying rose leaves its body and entrusts its love to the spirit
angel, what do you think of this?
do you know the world? your presence –
ever-changing colors and moods
a match creates tragedy in a forest
a transient subversion of the century is unable to reach
a new leaf exhales the miracle of life
a loud thunder howls, sending out deadly threats
a wildflower shows the most innocent smile
a sudden disaster, fear, obstacles
everything seems far and near, nerve force,
wilderness no longer contains flowers, snow is no longer pure white
the earth that gave birth to all things offers gentleness
love, blueness creates new words, dawn breaks
new air, the kingdom of dew echoes lives
without telling the reason for existence
people who fight with the soul, forget the “Sphinx”
dusk evokes the emptiness in countless dreams
growing green fields, smelting in daylight
mausoleum emits flashes
at this moment, you fly, leaving the core of life
writing a soul poem for Liuquan
Early morning on November 17, 2020
*Notes:
1. Both the Jiahu Bone Flute and Tao Xun (Ocarina) are the oldest musical instruments in China. The bone flute has a history of more than 9,000 years, and the Tao Xun (Ocarina) has a history of more than 6,000 years.
2. In ancient Greek mythology, a sphinx is a monster with wings, a human face, and a lion body. It was commissioned by Hera to sit on a cliff near the city of Thebe, blocking passers-by and using the riddles taught by the Muses to ask them questions, and those who did not answer correctly would be eaten by it.
16/After the disaster
the sky is full of gloomy sounds
the excavator digs into the chest of the earth
its wheels crush the invisible life
air conditioning interprets the sound of a crying cicada
the peaceful forest becomes a paradise for people
everything in the maze sighs silently
vegetable seedlings grow in line with chemistry
plastic bags and detergents stuffed in the mouth of the universe
shameless human development
who knows how much it had to endure
life under the soil
so-called science puts the world under the sea
think profoundly and protect our beautiful home,
for the tallest house is no match for a typhoon
and no matter how good the grain field is
it cannot withstand a heavy rain
how should the infinite universe
keep going on
July 31, 2021
17/Loneliness in the blood
the night cannot hold the soul, a depressed organ
like a rose tapping in a bottle to be released
screaming madly in the peaceful midnight
when will the tumbling noise become silent?
may enlightenment free the tranquil night from death?
the pleasant shadow embraces itself
love words stab the wall, roll on the ground
the aching bed talks with the magician
when walking around the horizon, your glance horrifies me
the red mountain is like an invisible ship
carrying away the fading day
pure light reminds of the sleepless loved one
and you are still weaving white dreams
a spring without birds, flowers, and love
without the green grass and trees, and the homeland forest
everything dies in every rushing moment
windows and every wrinkle carry the burden of life
you ruthlessly dug everything up
you took away my beautiful façade and my hidden flower garden
you are afraid, the sails are lowered into the silver sky
falling, you cannot catch and hold your steps, your greatness
cannot be copied, sorrowfully between laughter and tears
humankind moves forward sleepwalking, on and on
there will be no more death after winter, no more
why do branches reborn in spring
they cause suffering, the streamlet is gurgling
the burden of life forces it to let go
not everything will die, whiteness will live forever
funeral notes floating in the air
winter, the hostile wind has passed through the empty forest
kiss me in the dream
your red lips will humbly pass-through
fighting to break the self-designed net
18/My silly girl
smile, my silly girl,
no one sees you growing like wildflowers
the creek is your lover
you follow its stream overflowing the heart’s island
from the near Yellow River to the infinite peak
the silhouette of the sky, a brimming face
so beautiful! Who said the Danube and the Nile outshine you?
who has ever seen your source?
moving charmingly towards me
you remain serene
no matter how the world settles
you still follow the rhythm of the flow
that boy who is wiser and braver than Odysseus
coming from the belly of the moon, he made you wait
a hanging stone that is more expensive than jade
soaked in water to give birth to beautiful people
well, my dear mortal, do no evil
did Nüwa and Jesus deceive the world to gain fame?
who makes the world sad when the sperm and eggs are happy?
a never-ending disaster
one by one, the embryos endure the sun, wind, and rain
bearing time whipping and so-called destiny tricks
all kinds of crimes, towards love, towards you
come from a place where the sun cannot reach
only this clear night brings a gentle meaning
take the sweet dew from the tips of your hair and blend it into your eyes
hold tight the hand of the pine and cypress from childhood
I refuse the temptation as bright as the blue sky
the day slips quietly through the midday flames
a person who resigns to integrating into the world
their breath makes everything painful
Nüwa, ribs, ape-man, the lie is, after all, true
the name written in the register
will be the clay substance
suffering together the season’s tyranny
brooklet,
source of my life, my blood, and breath
restore everything to the initial breath
return the true feelings of rain and dew,
so that it no longer feels like a fish on land
in a recurring barren appearance
November 5, 2019, 01:54h
Bio: Anna Keiko
Anna Keiko is an internationally renowned poet, writer, editor, painter and resident of Shanghai. she is a member of Shanghai Pudong Writers Association and graduated from East China University of Political Science and Law in Shanghai. She is the founder president and chief editor of ACC Shanghai Huifeng International Literary Society, the world Poetry promoter, and the winner of the International Peace Ambassador Outstanding Contribution Award. Member of the board of Directors of the ITHACA World Association of Poetry Culture, China. A partner of Italian imagery and poetry. International member of the Canadian Association of Cuban Literature Alliance, member of the Association of Intercultural Communication in New York, United States, World Poetry Coordinator, director of Chinese Young Writers. Her poem (Waiting for a Bus) was set to song by the famous composer Tuba Hai. Her poems have been translated into more than 30 languages and have been published in more than 2,000 newspapers and magazines in more than 50 countries. Invited to participate in international poetry festivals in many countries. She was nominated for the Nobel Prize in Literature in 2020.
