Chen-ou Liu's Translation Project: First English-Chinese Haiku and Tanka Blog

Monday, September 26, 2016

Selected Tanka: Twilight Shadow Tanka

twilight shadow...
my voice lost in the cries
of wild geese
flying against the wind
in a gray sky

Gusts, 13, Spring/Summer 2011

Sunday, September 25, 2016

Selected Tanka: English Poem and Chinese Mind Tanka

plum petals
falling upon plum petals...
I squeeze
another English poem
out of my Chinese mind

Gusts, 13, Spring/Summer 2011

Saturday, September 24, 2016

Friday, September 23, 2016

Edge of A Long Silence Tanka

the edge
of a long silence
between us --
two swans on the lake
flapping their wings

Gusts, 24, Fall/Winter 2016

Thursday, September 22, 2016

Selected Haibun: Under the Gaze of Time

New Year's Eve
the waning crescent and I
left alone

I have spent the day doing the shopping, making meals, cleaning, reading, and writing up to this moment. While going about the daily routine, days can slip away. That is the true king of terrors. With the end of the year in sight, I try to make sense of what I was, and of who I am now.

As I reflect on the past year, it seems I've achieved little beyond existing and I've charged through life in a kind of panic. Yet I'm haunted, still, by the conviction that everything is either preordained or accidental.

first dawn
singing Let It Be
to the attic wall

I walk
down the yellow brick road
morning mist ahead

Frogpond, 34:2, Spring/Summer 2011

Wednesday, September 21, 2016

Train Whistle Tanka

out of the mist
the sound of a train whistle ...
I clutch Aunt
with one hand, my other
holds Mother's old photo

NeverEnding Story, September 6, 2016

Blind Date Haiku

blind date
her face half revealed
in moonlight

Chinese Translation


Ardea, 6, 2016

Tuesday, September 20, 2016

Flickering TV Screen Haiku

the pitter-patter
of winter evening ...
TV screen flickering

Chinese Translation

滴答滴答的雨聲 ...

Ardea, 6, 2016

Monday, September 19, 2016

Monday, September 12, 2016

Selected Tanka Prose: Old Photos of the Future

At dusk I sit in front of my computer reflecting upon the bright, promising smiles of my childhood, youth, and early thirties. I scan them one by one.

in the photos
we have ceased to be
the same…
I am his outcome
he, my memory

The setting sun sinks slowly on my glasses, and in the deep of the computer screen a gloomy and bemused face is mirrored.

Pirene's Fountain, 4:9, April 2011