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

Showing posts with label winter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label winter. Show all posts

Saturday, July 25, 2026

Dying Winter Light Haiku

the weight
of dying winter light ...
crow after crow

Leaf Haiku, 9, 2026

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

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

Wednesday, April 22, 2026

Streetlight Tanka

a girl in red
silhouetted against the glow
of a streetlight
the spark of her cigarette
deepens this winter night

Friday, April 10, 2026

Thursday, March 19, 2026

Winter Dawn Tanka

the warmth left
by my late father's hand
holding mine ...
half asleep and half awake
to this false winter dawn

Monday, February 2, 2026

Winter Stars Haiku

half awake, alone ...
winter stars upon stars 
upon stars



FYI: This haiku could be read as a prequel to the following:

more darkness
more stars
moving on

Frogpond, 34:2, Spring/Summer 2011

Sandra Mooney-Ellerbeck


Added:

the river
curves through winter mist
a man at its edge


Added:

the sound
of screeching tires
twilight chill


Added:

hilltop cross ...
the shape
of this misty night

Wednesday, December 3, 2025

Gazan Baby's Face Haiku

first frost …
a Gazan baby’s face
in pixels



FYI: Judge's Comment: The first sign of winter is juxtaposed with a baby in Gaza, likely seen under terrible circumstances. Pixels are the tiny units – or pieces (a shadow word, surely) – that make up a digital image. News is always to hand, refreshed continuously if we choose to look, but the devices we use can make us feel remote, less empathetic. The author’s intent (to me anyway) is unclear, which adds another layer of interest.


My Response:

The emotional force of this haiku depends largely on the relationship between Ls 2&3. Without L 3, “a Gazan baby’s face” functions as a direct image of suffering. But L 3 — “in pixels” — radically reframes the image. It reveals that the speaker is not physically present with the child, but encountering the face through a screen: a phone, livestream, news clip, or social-media feed. 

That shift opens several layers of meaning.

1. Mediation and distance

“In pixels” foregrounds the technological mediation of suffering. The child reaches the speaker only as digital light — fragmented image-data transmitted across distance. The haiku creates tension between intimacy and separation: the immediacy of a baby’s face contrasted with the remoteness of screen-based witnessing.

The haiku quietly asks what it means to experience catastrophe through technology rather than direct human contact.

2. Fragmentation and dehumanization

Pixels are the tiny units that collectively simulate reality. Ending on “pixels” subtly suggests how modern tragedy is consumed as image — fragmented, streamed, and reduced to visual information.

L 3 therefore carries an implicit critique of contemporary spectatorship: human suffering risks becoming just another flow of digital content.

3. The contrast with “first frost” in L 1

The juxtaposition with “first frost” is crucial. Traditionally, first frost evokes seasonal transition, stillness, delicacy, beauty, and coldness. Placed beside the image of a Gazan baby, the frost acquires moral and emotional overtones: emotional numbness, chilling distance, fragility of life, even the cold glow of screens.

The ellipsis after “first frost …” deepens this effect by creating a suspended pause before the intrusion of geopolitical reality.

4. Why “in pixels” works

The restraint of “in pixels” is precisely what gives the haiku its force. It avoids overt political rhetoric, graphic imagery, and explicit emotional instruction. Instead, L 3 quietly transforms the haiku from simple observation into a meditation on mediated witnessing in the digital age.


And this haiku is a sequel to mine below:

Against the Drowning Noise of Other Words, CLXXXVIII: "A Gazan baby"
written in response to Haaretz, May 20, 2025Opposition MK Says Israel Risks Pariah Status, 'Sane State Doesn't Kill Babies as Hobby'

a Gazan baby
the glitter 
in a sniper's eye

Friday, October 24, 2025

Birth Steam Haiku

slant winter light
the birth steam
of a new calf

included in The Red Moon Anthology of English-Language Haiku, 2025

Wednesday, October 22, 2025

Monday, August 11, 2025

Journey Within Tanka

darkness
between winter stars ...
alone
on the journey within
even darker

Time Haiku, 62, 2025