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Lee Ruo-ying
Nacionalidad:
Taiwán
E-mail:
linfoer@yahoo.com.tw
Biografia

Lee Ruo-ying (Lily Lee, 1950)was bestowed with Doctor degree in Literature from National Kaohsiung Normal University, then served as a professor in the same university until retirement.  Now, she is Chief-editor of "Literature of the Saline Land " bimonthly.  She published a collection of poetry “The Sketch” as well as academic books including “General Introduction on the Poetry in Tang and Sung Dynasties” and “An analysis and Study on Rhetoric of Taiwanese Modern Poetry”.

 

 

Poems by Lily Lee

 

Happiness


Happiness is a photograph
On the moment the flash light goes off
Every blooming faces behind a camera


         Puppet


Cold roses
After thawing arrives the fast fading
A summer love affair
was no more than a impromptu skit
We both were
puppets that hesitate about what move to make



         Black Hole of life


Life has had too much sweets
and suffers from a black hole of its decay
A decomposed heart that soaked in the sugar syrup
Could no longer find itself a wrapping Band-Aid

 

 

  THE HATCHED DREAM COMES TRUE   

 

It was the wish of a young girl

like her grandma and great-grandma and great-great-grandma...

embroider their future dowry in their boudoirs

under the light of an oil lamp, the shimming candlelight

stitch one by one, to make a colorful tapestry of life.

 

I have such a dream:

A carpenter\'s workshop is my boudoir

use a saw to cut out the forms of tomorrow

use a plane to cut off the encumbrance of life

use sandpapers to rub off the roughness of character

use glue to put together the glowing sky.

In the music of tinkling by the carpenter\'s tools

my closet, my bookshelf, my table and chair, my bed.....

all dance in my young dream.

 

But I put away my dream.

Like the girl of my neighbor, I went into the hall of literature.

Forty years in exotic landscapes

only the aromatic dream stayed young

I always wondering in the middle of the night

listen to the deafening sound of time passing

The others\' closets, bookshelves, tables and chairs, beds....

all around, sighing as outsiders.

The should-be callused hands are now soft for writing and keying only

These soft and helpless hands always make me uneasy.

 

Looking back along the fragrance of the wood for the shadow of the young girl

Now in orchard I use the driftwood of time to built the boudoir from memory

The day may come to an end

yet the evening is more beautiful

In the twilight lights appear from distant night

announce that another dawn will soon

come brightly here.

 

 

The sad song for Formosa

     

When the police waved the stick to the people

Hit me on my body

Let me know that the damaged mortal flesh tattoo mark of honor

Hit me on the knee

Let me go down on my knees to kiss lands with all my heart

Hit me on the eyes

I\'d rather be blind than seeing those humble slave shamelessly mug

Hit me on the ear

I\'d rather be deaf than hear those flattering words of blackmail

Hit me on the nose,

I wish to turbulent blood spilled on the island out of the suffering of a wild azalea

 

Desarrollado por: Asesorias Web
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