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

Thursday, July 2, 2026

Seashell Haiku

 

Commentary by The Solitary Daisy Columnist, Sean B. Wright.

This is a resonant, memory-laden haiku that uses a familiar sensory gesture to evoke distance, identity, and longing. The opening line, “years in exile,” establishes a wide temporal and emotional horizon, suggesting separation from homeland, endurance over time, and a life shaped by displacement. It is a heavy and somewhat abstract beginning, but it clearly sets the stakes and frames how the reader approaches the image that follows.

The phrase “a Pacific seashell” grounds the poem in something tangible while also expanding its scope. The specificity of “Pacific” is important—it evokes not just a place, but an entire ocean, compressing vast geography into a small, handheld object. The shell becomes more than an object; it carries with it the weight of memory, origin, and possibly the speaker’s lost or distant home.

The final line, “held to my ear,” completes the image with a simple, familiar gesture. This act of listening to a seashell is almost universal, often associated with childhood curiosity, but here it takes on a more poignant dimension. It becomes an attempt to recover something distant, to hear again what has been left behind. The sensory immediacy of this action contrasts effectively with the abstraction of exile in the opening line.

What gives the haiku its strength is the juxtaposition between the abstract condition of exile and the concrete, intimate act of holding the shell to the ear. The seashell functions as a bridge between past and present, between homeland and current place, and between memory and physical sensation. The implied “sound” of the ocean—whether real or imagined—becomes a stand-in for what has been lost, or at least what cannot be directly accessed.

The tone throughout is reflective and gently elegiac. There is a quiet ache present, but it is restrained; the poem does not state its emotion outright, instead allowing it to resonate through the image. Sonically, the poem is unobtrusive, the sibilant s sounds in Pacific and seashells echo the sea’s quieter movements.

Overall, this is a thoughtful and evocative haiku in which a simple, tactile action carries deep emotional resonance. The seashell becomes a conduit for memory and belonging, compressing vast distance into a quiet, intimate moment. While the opening leans toward abstraction, the image that follows sustains and deepens the poem effectively.

Wednesday, July 1, 2026

July First Tanka

the Maple Leaf
billows on July First …
the added hyphen
weighted with ancestral names
before Canadian

Gold-Rimmed Frame Tanka

I’ve bounced for years
through internships, contracts
and odd day gigs …
thin dust coats my testamur
in its gold-rimmed frame

Tuesday, June 30, 2026

Drifting in White Ribbons Tanka

Re-Homing in the Maple Land, XLIII
written on Canada Day Eve

twilight mist
drifting in white ribbons
over the river ...
thoughts of staying or going
tangled in my immigrant past



FYI: This could be read as a sequel to the following gembun

Re-Homing in the Maple Land, XLII


A new life in this promised land of milk and honey, where my veil of forgetfulness drapes like a shroud.

shoppers come and go
“I used to be” in the folds
of my Walmart smile



This gembun could be read as a sequel to my tanka below:


at winter twilight
should have, could have, would have
are a boulder
rolling down the hill of life
I push it up, and yet ...

Gusts, 39, Spring/Summer 2024


This tanka could be read as a sequel to my tanka prose below:


The Point of No Return

On the day of my emigration to Canada, a land of maple leaves and snowflakes that will eventually bury my past.

a parting
of summer clouds
mother
lets go of my hand
. . . and of my heart

Ribbons, 16:1, Winter 2020

Monday, June 29, 2026

Last Rays Tanka

the last rays
of a winter sunset
slip beyond the hills …
I’m left in silence, grieving
what’s left of my dream

Sunday, June 28, 2026

Ceasefire: You Cease, I Fire

Against the Drowning Noise of Other Words, CCXCIX: "Ceasefire: You Cease, I Fire"

Ceasefire: You Cease, I Fire

Boom, boom, boom ... trailed by intermittent night-piercing screams, near and far. 

an armless boy's stare
midnight lightning links Heaven 
and smoky ruins 

hazy day moon
an orphaned girl, her world
of paper cranes



FYI: For more poems about Israel's war crimes, see Special Feature: "Selected Poems for Reflections on UN's Report on Israel Committing Genocide and Other War Crimes."

On June 18, 2026, the UN Independent International Commission of Inquiry published a major report titled “The essence of childhood has been destroyed: Israel’s deliberate targeting of Palestinian children in the Occupied Palestinian Territory since 7 October 2023”. 

The paper describes the deliberate targeting and killing of Palestinian children, including post-ceasefire since the October 2025 Gaza peace plan. The Commission also examines a sharp increase in violence perpetrated by members of Israeli settlers against Palestinian children in the West Bank, including East Jerusalem.


There is no ceasefire in Gaza; the world has normalized the genocide of Palestinians.

-- Francesca Albanese, UN Special Rapporteur on Palestine and author of UN Report, "Anatomy of a Genocide"

And

There comes a time when silence is betrayal.

Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.

-- Martin Luther King, Jr.

Saturday, June 27, 2026

Absence Tanka

moonlit icicles
dripping from the eaves ...
another night
alone with my drunken self
haunted by her absence

Friday, June 26, 2026

Face of the Past Tanka

I pluck out
another white hair ...
in the mirror
this face of the past
now foreign to me

Thursday, June 25, 2026

Layoff Notice Tanka

oh! sunset glow …
I drift, drifting through
a swirl of leaves
as the wind tears loose
my layoff notice

Wednesday, June 24, 2026

Oriole Song Haiku

hiking alone
I'm lost except for
oriole song



FYI: This is a sequel to my haiku below:

the scent 
of dappled sunlight
redwood hike



Added:

weeks since the layoff 
I step out of myself 
into bluebird song


Added:

me in her eyes
the bite
of a strawberry


Added:

red juice dripping
from her lip to my tongue —
strawberry moon


Added:

strawberry moon
rippling on the ocean —
with wing-soft strokes
my love and I skinny-dip
through its silver path


Added: Trump Empire, Inc., XCV

the White House roof
shadowed against sunset skies
America First banner

Tuesday, June 23, 2026

Cursor Blinking and Swift Skywriting Tanka

for Thomas Mann and Richard Bach

all-night wrestle
with this blinking cursor curse —
alone
at morning’s lightfall
I glimpse a swift's skywriting



FYI: Below are two of my favourite remarks on being a writer:

A writer is somebody for whom writing is more difficult than it is for other people.

-- Thomas Mann

And

A professional writer is an amateur who didn’t QUIT. 😎

-- Richard Bach


Added: No More Fairy Tales, LIV
for  Franz Kafka 


sky tinged gray
a heron high-stepping
through plastic


FYI: It seems to me that one should only read [poems] that bite and sting you. If the [poems] we read don't wake us up with a fist to the skull, what’s the point of reading them?

-- paraphrasing Franz Kafka 


Added: Politics of Distraction, XVII

In the land of the free, dreaming ...
To American midterm-election voters

The poor and middle class pay taxes, the rich pay accountants, the super-rich pay lawyers, and the ultra-rich pay politicians.

smell of muggy noon —
the Reflecting Pool's blue sky
turns algae green

Trump news on mute ...
in the soup kitchen mirror
a twentysomething's stare


FYI: CBS News, June 22Company owned by Trump donor won $1.7 million no-bid Reflecting Pool cleaning contract


Added: Politics of Distraction, XVIII

American “Carnage”

A 15-million-dollar resurfacing—pool reborn in flag-blue paint. It peels at once, thin skins of coating unthreading into the water.

No Trespassing
in the lingering smell
of muggy noon
a chain-link fence around
the Reflecting Pool’s green sky

Microbes revise the budget in silence. A 1.7-million-dollar, no-bid cleanup contract follows, awarded to a company owned by a Trump donor.

A super El Niño presses toward Independence Day.


FYI: The National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) confirmed El Niño conditions in mid-June, with a “super” event expected to develop over the summer and peak in the fall.

And The Atlantic, June 26 2026: Trump’s Peeling Green Gift to America
The Reflecting Pool fiasco says everything about how the Trump administration operates.

Donald Trump, trying to renovate the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool for America’s 250th birthday and, instead, scoring a tax-payer-funded, $14 million-over-[close to $15 million-dollar] budget own goal in the form of a cracked and peeling, green-algae-riddled, potentially duck-killing militarized zone in the nation’s capital. One of the firms hired for the renovation is named Greenwater Services.


Added: reading between the lives and writing between the lines, XCIII

summer sunlight
pours through atrium walkways ...
flicker and flicker
on tired faces of back-alley youth
at the photo exhibit


FYI: This is a sequel to the following:

reading between the lives and writing between the lines, XCII

in held silence
the newbie bares, I used to 
love getting high...
until a certain point
a roomful of heads bowed low



Added: Against the Drowning Noise of Other Words, CCXCVIII: "settler's silhouette"

billows of smoke 
against olive-grove sunset
settler's silhouette


FYI: "Israel's oldest dailyHaaretz," which was was sanctioned by the Israeli government on Nov. 24, 2024

June 23, 2026: Undoing History

A revolution is taking place in the northern West Bank. A decades-long settler project is becoming a reality – fast. Settler representatives in the Israeli government are reaping political gains, while the IDF enables and supports the effort on the ground.

Investigation, June 23: The Israeli Far-right's West Bank Land Grab and Why It's a Ticking Time Bomb

Monday, June 22, 2026

Bars of Light Haiku

bars of light:
winter moonlight slants  through
his cell window 

Haiku in Action, Weekly Prompt:"Prison of Light," Dec. 18th -- 22nd  2025

Sunday, June 21, 2026

The World without Father Tanka

written for my late father:

alone again
on this winding road home
in slanted moonlight
I try to imagine my place
in the world without Father



FYI: This is a sequel to my tanka below:

Father's breath
fades into forever ...
I gaze out 
his hospice window
at the moon, its fullness

Haiku Page, 11, 2025

Friday, June 19, 2026

Crease Haiku

her side of the bed
slanted winter moonlight
in the crease



FYI: For a detailed analysis of this haiku, see To the Lighthouse: Literary Device: Objective Correlative


Added:

no reply yet ...
a spider repairing
its moonlit web


Added:

his last call missed ...
the porch chime 
in a winter night wind


Added:

a weeping willow
leans slightly downstream
life between gigs


Added:

construction fence
with a torn poster flapping
harbor night fog

Thursday, June 18, 2026

Orphanage Gate Tanka

hand-me-down shirts
with elbows worn thin
in dim twilight
each boy's gaze tracks the couple 
past the orphanage gate



Added:

this fresh morning
I wake alone to the world
of broken dreams ...
yet outside new leaves bud
from an oak stump


Added:

alone
in California golden light
slanted through the room ...
I close my eyes, listening
to the child in my mind's corner


Added:

I waved at her
beyond the departure gate 
yet she didn’t turn ...
memories of her packed
into the folds of my mind


Added:

across the sky
streaks of orange, pink, and violet ...
burning letters
I wrote to her years ago
but never sent


Added: Politics of Distraction, XV

"peace deal" news on mute—
fold after fold
of ceasefire-strike thoughts
into a thousand
rainbow origami cranes


FYI: This tanka is a sequel to mine below:

Politics of Distraction, XII

flip-flopping
on the ceasefire deal
amid camera clicks --
a dove's feather caught spinning
in the White House's wire fence



Added: Politics of Distraction, XVI

smell of muggy noon -- 
the Reflecting Pool's blue sky 
turns algae green

Sunday, June 14, 2026

Flooding Tanka

after the flooding
in this tourist town
the sound
of a whiskey bottle
tapping the dock