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If my poetry turns out to be
an ugly duckling
plain and agonizing
please kindly
dig a hole for me
and bury it gently
with some seeds
of forget-me-not
Maybe
they will germinate
in spring
growing up to be delightful
as soothing
as the light blue sky
in summer
and this world
will appear much better
Maybe not
then please be kind enough
to let me
keep daydreaming
Revised
Just like the merry lark
having flown away
to a far-off land
no more singing in the sky
you're no longer
staying by my side
What's worse
at the park
there's nothing but coldness
of the weather
to keep company
with those leafless trees
And in between
our riotous laughter
our precious youth
has sneaked past us
together with
the beautiful Sunday
Young as a caterpillar
you shouldn't wonder
whether people like you
or not
or what you will be
in the future
Instead
simply devote yourself
to digging in
to those lush green leaves
and getting as chubby
as can be
Sooner or later
it will dawn on people
that this world
is much more colorful
with your presence
when you transform yourself
into a butterfly
Revised
Having had enough
of this cold windy weather
I guess I'd better
turn it off
by gently closing my eyes
Hence
returning to a warm summer day
in my mind's eye
when I was taking a rest
in your shade
Blowing out of nowhere
a playful summer breeze
scattered your pure white petals
all over the floor
and onto my humble clothes
I was wondering why
why you smelt so aromatic to me
since I wasn't a butterfly
or a honey bee
Now I guess
not only are you pretty
as a fragrant lass
but also witty
for you intend to attract me
to spread your sweet memory
in the air
via my poetry
in the monotonous winter
Revised
Oh, Motorcycle
you're like my uncle
in dashing so fast
that even time is left
far far behind
in the past
Running here one day
and rushing there
another day
you seem to be
second to none in racing
but will you ever
get somewhere
instead of ending
in the middle of nowhere
one day
when you have to
stop running
in the long run
Revised
Azaleas are blooming
here and there
on the hill
though I can still feel
the early spring chill
I'd like to pick a pure white one
for you
to put it in your hair
But where are you
I shouldn't have missed you
so much
in the first place
for I know
you're nothing but my echo
I'm not Narcissus
but I'm wasting away
for the same reflection
all the same
Revised
Wearing a sombrero
of slate grey sky
in the winter
and walking along a street
with only the chilly wind
all the afternoon
I felt like a lonely caveman
living in the ice age
No sooner had I
started missing
those cheerful sunflowers
which bloomed fervently
on your smiling face
last summer
than
from you
my dear Nikita
I received a well-wishing card
which
you would never believe
did thaw the iceberg
in my heart
in no time
Revised
If making a great fortune
means
having no choice
but to cut down a forest
or to step on others
I'd rather be as poor
as a hermit
living a simple way of life
than admire a billionaire
living in a magnificent mansion
and claiming
it's politically correct
for cannibals to eat people
if with fork and knife
Thank you, little bird
for the sweet melody
you make for me
this morning
and for your company
while I'm weeding my garden
on this breezy day of spring
not too warm
and not too cold
Don't you agree
Nevertheless
happy hours seem to go by
more quickly
In the blink of an eye
it's almost high noon
and time to say goodbye
While I'm going home
to have my lunch
please make yourself
at home and
eat to your heart's content
those chemical free pests
that feed on my veggies
You're more than welcome
for you never enjoy
those fat worms
without rewarding me
with organic fertilizers
Seeing pretty butterflies
flying and
dancing here and there
on the sunny street
all of a sudden
I sense
spring is coming
but I don't feel much
like singing this time
since I'm now in the autumn
of my life
elbowing my way
toward the ruthless winter
even though I still remember
I once promised myself
I wouldn't let spring
pass me by
so easily
when I was young
and silly as a puppy
When I was still a kid
as small as you were
I wondered why
you always carried your house
like a tiny tower
on your back
wherever you traveled
Later on
I realized
it was your borrowed shelter
in the sands of time
beside the ocean expanse
When migrating birds
start flying south
it dawns on me
we're not much different
Like them
we're just taking
a seasonal journey
without a permanent home
Is it the spring rain
or just another cold front
that's drizzling
outside my window
However
does it really
make any difference
as long as
in my small town
there're still delicious
and various Chinese foods
that can keep me
staying alive
all the year round
after a tiring day
in my veggie garden
I don't really care
especially when
one has passed the age
of sweet dreams
And
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's able
to read those clouds well
To raise us
she has tasted
all kinds of weathers
Nonetheless
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
Revised
When I open wide my eyes
to search for my old hometown,
it seems as far
as the farthest star in a night sky,
and in a blink of an eye,
it's gone.
When I close my eyes,
it's right in front of me,
in the mind's eye,
appealing as a rural tapestry,
with boys running
with wind in a field,
girls playing
with water by a brook.
One day
when I eventually close my eyes
and never wake up,
I wonder
whether my green grass of home
will still exist
as well as this illusory universe.
Revised
Living like a green sapling
deep in a valley
I'm afraid
I'm forgetting about the world
or the other way round
I'm not very sure
yet I still have a pen
to write down many a dream
on the clear water surface
of a winding stream