I was walking towards Boston's
Chinatown, from the subway station
at Macy's, and passing by a showcase
window of a fabric store.
...
It comes quietly without my noticing
It wakes me up to notice the passing of time
It tells me that timing is everything
It times everything I'm doing
...
I flew thousands of miles
to your bedside. You refused
to look at me,
...
I don't understand you
But I do remember
The following lines
From you:
...
The noon tribunal was over
Judge Dee has finished his lunch
with salty fish and stinky tofu
as usual. Sipping a cup of tea
...
My dad, an amicable man
benign to all, obeisance his only flaw
30 years after his death
I was shocked to find out
...
Father was walking in the front yard
He always got up earlier than I
It's his habit of walking around
After doing Taichi as his exercise
...
I moved into a new house
mainly because I love its
sunny study, in front
of which, there's a lovely
...
What color is it,
asked the rose in my backyard.
It's white, pure white,
I responded.
...
Mirror and shadow, they both
tell you who you are, at least
how you look like or seem to be
While a mirror always shows you
...
Two dogs meet on the street
Who are happier? The dogs or their
masters? The dogs look much
more excited for sure, but their owners
...
Zhu Xiao Di, author of Thirty Years in a Red House (memoir) , Tales of Judge Dee (novel) , Leisure Thoughts on Idle Books (collective essays) , and lately a few poems. Also, a contributor to Father: Famous Writers Celebrate the Bond Between Father and Child (anthology) , along with John Updike and Winston Groom.)
Passing By A Fabric Store In Boston's Chinatown
I was walking towards Boston's
Chinatown, from the subway station
at Macy's, and passing by a showcase
window of a fabric store.
It looked too familiar, that greenish
colorful cloth inside, reminding me of
the first time I visited Chinatown
more than 30 years ago.
Back then
it let me feel motherland was so nearby.
But now, it only made me realize
how far away it became.