Jingwa / 井蛙
Jingwa(b. 1970s), was born in Guang Dong Province, now lives in California, USA. As a poet, a psychologist and an author of six published works, she contributes to many collections of fiction and poetry. She wrote a series of articles on works of impressionist and modern painters including Monet, Manet, Van Gogh, Gauguin, Cezanne, Renoir, Matisse, Munch and others, for study of these articles she traveled to visit art museums in Paris, California, Belgium, Shanghai, Tibet, Nepal, Amsterdam, Anchorage, New York, Boston, Berlin, Weimar and Prague. Her publications include poems “Selected Poems of JINGWA“(2003)and “The Eternal Auvers-sur-Oise”(2011), history “The Fragrant Library” (2011)as well as novels “Mom Left Me Alone”(2001)and “Rush Out a Glittering Sword” (2002).
Email: jingwa64@hotmail.com
To My Father / 给父
The sadline wine
Passed the door of the drunkard’s who forgot the time
I don’t know what kind of tribute should be feted on your birthday
And only know that this century has recorded the gap of two
generations
The bland missing was growing by your grave
The gate of my city is still toughly guarding the blast of wind
Its coming represents
The affection brought by me and the happiness of the field
It’s ture that there is never a sense of being drunk to climb
the window in my face
To climb the struggle of the difficulties of language
And to climb the staring of the light pole
苦涩的酒
经过醉汉的家门他忘了年月
我也记不得你的生辰该用什么贡品祭祀
只知道这世纪已记录了两代人的隔阂
你的墓旁长满了冷漠的想念
我的城门依然固执地守着一阵风
它的到来是我
带给孩子的感动和田野的春心荡漾
是的,我脸上从没有一丝醉意爬上窗
爬上言语困难的挣扎
爬上电线杆上的凝望
To You / 给你
The rolling empty bottle in the street reminds me of
The times of wine
Of the dead drunk person lying on the straw mat which is
Reversal in time and space
Of the weaving hands weaving the never-to-be-awaken dream
The drunk dream reminds me of
The mercy upstairs being a pile of blankness
Because that is a watcher who knows nothing about life
And reminds me of the moment being occupied by love
The solitary mountain locates at the eaves that hold the sun
the moon the wind and the storm
It reminds me of our busy time in the rain
Your silence was thrown to the sailor who is pulling the rope
The sailor gave the vast sea the foams that haven’t been
back from its squander
街上一个滚动的空瓶子使我想起
酒那年月
想起醉死的人躺在时空颠倒的草席
想起编织的手编织不醒的梦
梦的醉想起
楼上的怜悯只是一堆空白
因为那是不懂生活的旁观者
使我想起被爱占有的时刻
寂寞的山座落在日月阴晴风雨的屋檐
想起雨中我们的忙碌
你的沉默抛给了拉绳子的水手了
水手给了汪洋给了漂泊未归的泡沫
No Time To Be Sad / 没有时间悲伤
Your silent glance hurt the returning shepherd
When the flock of crows was tweedling for the feeling of hatred
Can they still fly in the sky that hasn’t ever been touched
Has migrate, a city
The missing of Chinese way can never defeat
The inflammation of today
I truly believe that there is a wall which is crying while
squatting in the third space
And is waiting for the pined body to say farewell to the
black shadow that is approaching her
你沉默的眼神戳痛牧归的人
当一笼鸦噪于自己的妒恨
这片未被碰触的天空还可以飞翔吗
一座城市迁徙了
中国式的思念总是敌不过今天
烈焰的火化
我相信还有第三度空间蹲着哭泣的墙
在等消瘦的遗体告别她渐渐迫近的黑影