This saying good-bye on the edge of the dark
And cold to an orchard so young in the bark
Reminds me of all that can happen to harm
An orchard away at the end of the farm
...
The Sky Is the Hometown of Myriads of Things(and another poem)
by LUO Qiuhong (China)
...
Life is all a poem, the Poet
that one day he composed it lodges up there
in the skies, the moments of existence are
like a flow of water towards the mouth
...
My southern hill is to the south of any hills
With green trees and flowers everywhere
There are a farm, a hut and a river
At the foot of it, there must be a little boat for travelling
...
A poet, an epitome of grief,
Is blood songs of defeat.
The one who cannot sing,
The one who refuses to sing,
...
Our Pop Stars
By Xiaoguang Li(China)
Translated by Bangxue Zheng (China)
...
Soldier
He was not so soft
That he could be bended,
...
Love Manifesting Itself like Stars (group poems)
By/ Hua Wanli
Tr./ Qi Fengyan
...
This bread I break was once the oat,
This wine upon a foreign tree
Plunged in its fruit;
Man in the day or wind at night
...
Suffering is a poet
Walking on the thorny road
With a cross on
Suffering is the poet's daily prayer before dinner
...
The World
This is not a world
But a wisp of countries
...
Text / Huai Ying (Singapore)
A Homecomer in the wind blowing and snow falling day
Having just drunk the thirty year old wine
...
Street lamp
Text / Bingjie (China)
Star is sleeping on top of her head
...
"The Wind bell" (A Group of Four Poems)
by Sue Zhu (New Zealand)
1.
...
1) COME AROUND SAN FRANCISCO
By Cai KeLin (China)
Always
...
Perhaps
By Liu HeJun(China)
When looking into the distance, I never saw the background,
...
- Heavesn & I
I behold the sky as a blooming rose
And clouds as magic caves
...
Good-Bye, And Keep Cold.Poem By Robert Frost
This saying good-bye on the edge of the dark
And cold to an orchard so young in the bark
Reminds me of all that can happen to harm
An orchard away at the end of the farm
All winter, cut off by a hill from the house.
I don't want it girdled by rabbit and mouse,
I don't want it dreamily nibbled for browse
By deer, and I don't want it budded by grouse.
(If certain it wouldn't be idle to call
I'd summon grouse, rabbit, and deer to the wall
And warn them away with a stick for a gun.)
I don't want it stirred by the heat of the sun.
(We made it secure against being, I hope,
By setting it out on a northerly slope.)
No orchard's the worse for the wintriest storm;
But one thing about it, it mustn't get warm.
"How often already you've had to be told,
Keep cold, young orchard. Good-bye and keep cold.
Dread fifty above more than fifty below."
I have to be gone for a season or so.
My business awhile is with different trees,
Less carefully nourished, less fruitful than these,
And such as is done to their wood with an axe-
Maples and birches and tamaracks.
I wish I could promise to lie in the night
And think of an orchard's arboreal plight
When slowly (and nobody comes with a light)
Its heart sinks lower under the sod.
But something has to be left to God.