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

Friday, May 31, 2013

Cold Moon Tanka

the cold moon
in a corner of the window:
three generations
in a one-bedroom apartment
pass around the pumpkin pie


VerseWrights, April 16, 2013

Thursday, May 30, 2013

Spring Sun Tanka

holding my book
in the crook of her arm
she smiles at me
the spring sun heaps
rubies on the day's shroud

VerseWrights, April 16, 2013

Tuesday, May 28, 2013

A Tanka about the Virgin of the Milk

our faces reflected
in The Virgin of the Milk...
has she imagined
a child clamping
onto her breast at 3 am?


VerseWrights, April 16, 2013

Dog Poop Tanka

on a leafy path
to the Zen Center
a pile of dog poop
I accept it
and everything else


Revision VerseWrights, April 16, 2013

Monday, May 27, 2013

Muse Tanka

my muse listens
to the hum and strike
of my words...
that same old look
on her Tudor court face


VerseWrights, April 16, 2013

Sunday, May 12, 2013

A Man Who Read Basho, A Haibun

he dies
under the staircase
an old dog

He often came to the library shortly before it opened and wouldn’t leave until the chief librarian kicked him out. He spent most of his time leafing through old encyclopedias and vintage copies of The Paris Review. He wasn’t much of a talker, but occasionally he did the monologuous talk-to-the-audience speech on what he had read or thought about.

The week before he died, he stopped me on the way out and surprised me by saying, “I've enjoyed reading some of your haiku and quotation tweets. My favorite is ‘to write haiku is to create an imaginary pond with real frogs in it.’” He then slipped a piece of crumpled paper into my hand and left.

lotus pond ...
all that remains
of  frog song

Toothless Smile Senryu

on her cleavage
the grim reaper tattoo --
his toothless smile


Kernels, #1, Spring 2013

Saturday, May 11, 2013

A Tanka about Writing

drunk on writing...
I compose one tanka
after another
until the swan sings
on the lake of my mind


Kernels, #1, Spring 2013

Ink-Dark Sky Tanka

releasing
fireflies from the jar
of my words...
what do they look like
under her ink-dark sky?


Kernels, #1, Spring 2013

Saturday, May 4, 2013

Ducks Haiku

ducks dabbling
in the waters of spring
my old dog and I


PoemHunter, April 8, 2013

My Muse's Dog Haiku

chasing the tail
of my Muse's dog
... first winter light


German Translation

dem Schwanz des Hundes
meiner Muse nachjagend
... erstes Winterlicht


Chrysanthemum, #13, April 2013

Friday, May 3, 2013

Pitbull Haiku

Valentine's night
her father’s pitbull and I
eyeball to eyeball


German Translation

Valentinsabend
mit dem Kampfhund ihres Vaters
Aug in Aug


Chrysanthemum, #13, April 2013

Wednesday, May 1, 2013

May Day Haiku

factory girls
crammed shoulder to shoulder
Bread and Roses ...


Note: The phrase “Bread and Roses” originated in a speech given by Rose Schneiderman, and a line in that speech – “The worker must have bread, but she must have roses, too” --  inspired the title of the poem, "Bread and Roses," by James Oppenheim, which was published in The American Magazine in December 1911. “Bread and Roses” was set to music by Mimi Fariña in the 1970s, and it has become an anthem for labor rights, and especially for the rights of working women.

Bread and Roses by James Oppenheim

As we come marching, marching in the beauty of the day,
A million darkened kitchens, a thousand mill lofts gray,
Are touched with all the radiance that a sudden sun discloses,
For the people hear us singing: “Bread and roses! Bread and roses! ”

As we come marching, marching, we battle too for men,
For they are women’s children, and we mother them again.
Our lives shall not be sweated from birth until life closes;
Hearts starve as well as bodies; give us bread, but give us roses!

As we come marching, marching, unnumbered women dead
Go crying through our singing their ancient cry for bread.
Small art and love and beauty their drudging spirits knew.
Yes, it is bread we fight for — but we fight for roses, too!

As we come marching, marching, we bring the greater days.
The rising of the women means the rising of the race.
No more the drudge and idler — ten that toil where one reposes,
But a sharing of life’s glories: Bread and roses! Bread and roses!

Song Lyrics

As we go marching, marching, in the beauty of the day,
A million darkened kitchens, a thousand mill lofts gray,
Are touched with all the radiance that a sudden sun discloses,
For the people hear us singing: Bread and Roses! Bread and Roses!

As we go marching, marching, we battle too for men,
For they are women's children, and we mother them again.
Our lives shall not be sweated from birth until life closes;
Hearts starve as well as bodies; give us bread, but give us roses.

As we go marching, marching, unnumbered women dead
Go crying through our singing their ancient call for bread.
Small art and love and beauty their drudging spirits knew.
Yes, it is bread we fight for, but we fight for roses too.

As we go marching, marching, we bring the greater days,
The rising of the women means the rising of the race.
No more the drudge and idler, ten that toil where one reposes,
But a sharing of life's glories: Bread and roses, bread and roses.
Our lives shall not be sweated from birth until life closes;
Hearts starve as well as bodies; bread and roses, bread and roses.