Bee Hoon

White as the falling snow outside,

rice flour strings bubbling up memories

across the oceans, suddenly I am home.

 

The Co-pilot

Tight like the gold band on Wukong's head, the singing

wind blows away his curse as he falls through the clouds.

In the mountains he knows Ox-head and Horse-face await.

Embers of The Man

The green leaves turned the colours of fall

Falling like snowflakes, waiting to be trampled on

The legacy scent lingers however on.

A Foreigner

Amongst white clouds and rustle of leaves

the mountain cherry is so high up

she hears but no birdsongs there

 

Ein Kind

Ein schreiendes Kind

Ein übermüdetes Kind

Ein Kind im Mama's Armen

Ein Kind, das mein Leben ändert

Das Kind meiner Liebe

Mein glückliches Kind

Childhood

Are the deities in the mountains

having a feast of peaches

as I burn the midnight oil by the curtains?

Suddenly flew by is the chalk of my teacher's

when I am only having a gander

at her black twin tresses

Wulin is in uproar over the Dragon Saber

but lore of an inch of time is gold laces

my ear and flips out from the other

From their quarreling voices

I hide in invented worlds under the table

but not from goose egg and cane lashes

To battles, my green plastic soldiers march

as I yearn to grow up in every March.

Zhu Yingtai, the modern lady

No cocoon of caste can contain

his winged lover as she drinks learned nectar,

flies through rain and wind into his fragrant blossom.