The Scribbles of a Lonely Traveller

I spread out my heart like a page of poetry
underneath a maple tree
Perhaps some floating leaves may fall right upon it
and paint a foliage vignette on it

A long shadow following a lone man
along a mountain trail
disappears
in a cherry tree shade

a leaf of a poetry book
is opened
under a pine tree

and a butterfly is flurrying its way home
on a fall afternoon

The autumn breeze is whispering to me
in a sweet olive tree
in the morning

Though I have a yearning
to write a poem
at this fragrant moment
for you
yet my sky has been painted blue
since I last saw you
when you were young as a poppy swaying
in the spring

I see through my window pane
in a small lane
all's quiet and calm
except for a few birds singing a psalm
praising the serenity of autumn
in the afternoon

The sky is slate blue today
Maybe I should bury my sorrow
in the soil with some daisy seeds before it's too late
and in autumn I'll patiently wait
for them to grow into delightful yellow
on the meadow

We're all playful green leaves
for our mother is a tree
a maple tree living in a small town
on the other side of a mountain

Though she recognizes only a few words
she does read those clouds well
To bear and raise us
she has tasted all kinds of weathers

The season when we're most colorful
is the season when she's young no more

Maybe we're going nowhere
yet, for those lost butterflies in gloomy autumn
we'll paint a yellow brick road

Formosa, I love you.

You're my playground,
my schoolyard,
my inspiration,
my battlefield,
my retreat,
my castle,
and my beloved Mother.

Formosa, I love you.

Perhaps it's a mistake
that we came to this world, for
the road between us seems long and rugged.

Perhaps we lived in a remote green village
before this life,
you spinned your yarn then,
and I--
I was busy growing rice in the field.

Perhaps we shall meet again soon
after this life when we won't be tied to the ground,
for our spirits are free to be everywhere.

If you still feel lazy from the summer heat
I'll turn myself into a falling leaf
to knock at your window
and to let out
the most gorgeous season is here to stay now
so that you may open your heart
like your eyes
to feel the golden hues
gradually taking over the green rice field
as well as the forest on the hill

Summer wind has gone
traveling far
running after spring shadow
and leaving behind
only heart shaped withered leaves
dreaming of flame trees
once blooming in an exotic land

A smart-alec monkey once encouraged his young fellow men
not to be high-ranking officials in the government
but to sacrifice themselves and do something for their country
and many innocent young did buy his story

As a consequence
there were few to compete with him for the throne
so he could own a harem of young wives and concubines
privileged by his power and money
What a cunning monkey

He who asked others to sacrifice their pleasures
might enjoy their sacrifices

Whenever you smile to me
you fill my world with rosy clouds
an instant turns eternal beauty

Frogs frogs frogs ...

Do you croak so noisily
like politicians
the whole night through
simply
over some trivial mosquitoes

Or do you feel forever lonely too
though surrounded
by millions of your folks

If so
then I'm willing to compromise
my serenity

An ancient windmill
on a hill

a white dove
on a wooden cross

the wind is blowing
the blades are spinning

and a river is gurgling
through a meadow

I woke up to a cool morning today,
hearing little birds chirping a farewell tune.

Guess they're leaving for the warmer south!
If only I could travel with them,
I'd float like a fallen leaf on a clear stream
to a far-off tropical island.

gaze up at nothing but the fluffy polar bears
sauntering high above the blue sky,
then gently close my eyes,
and quietly daydream my life away.