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A Life inTransition and Translation
by Chen-ou Liu
A Life in Transition and Translation
by
Chen-ou Liu
Honorable Mention, Turtle Light Press Haiku Chapbook Competition, 2014
NeverEnding Story 2014
First published in Canada in 2014 by NeverEnding Story
at http://neverendingstoryhaikutanka.blogspot.ca/
Copyright © Chen-ou Liu 2014
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Preface
Following the Moon to the Maple Land
for my first Canada Day, July 1, 2003
Name: Chen-ou Liu (phonic);
Country of Birth: R.O.C.;
(Cross out R.O.C. and fill in Taiwan) 1
Place of Birth; Date of Birth; Sex;
simply more technocratic questions
the Immigration Officer needs to pin down my borders.
He is always looking for shortcuts,
more interested in the roadside signposts
than in the landscape that has made me.
The line he wants me confined to
is an analytically recognizable category:
immigrant. My history is meticulously stamped.
Now, you're legally a landed immigrant.
Take a copy of A Newcomer’s Introduction to Canada.
from Lake Ontario
I scoop the Taiwan moon
distant sirens
Contemporary Haibun Online, 10:2, July 2014
Note: "The Republic of China (ROC)” was established in China in 1912. At
the end of World War II in 1945, Japan surrendered Taiwan to ROC military
forces on behalf of the Allies. Following the Chinese civil war, the
Communist Party of China took full control of mainland China and founded
the People's Republic of China (PRC) in 1949. The ROC relocated its
government to Taiwan, and its jurisdiction became limited to Taiwan and its
surrounding islands. In 1971, the PRC assumed China's seat at the United
Nations, which the ROC originally occupied. International recognition of the
ROC has gradually eroded as most countries switched recognition to the
PRC. Only 21 UN member states and the Holy See currently maintain
formal diplomatic relations with the ROC, though it has informal ties with
most other states via its representative offices." -- excerpted from the
Wikipedia entry, “Taiwan,” http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Taiwan
Canada geese
under the rainbow
a new immigrant
im-mi-grant . . .
the way English tastes
on my tongue
job hunting...
a yellow leaf drifts
from branch to branch
first autumn ...
tonight's moon not like
the one back home
Christmas Eve
my dog and I run
out of topics
winter rain
I fall asleep
holding myself
thoughts of home...
I rake last year's leaves
for compost
Lunar New Year
I become a Chinese
once again
budding lotus --
when did I become
who I am
midsummer night
I photoshop
my immigrant dream
job interview
falling leaves
with every step
elliptical thoughts
of what could have happened ...
winter drizzle
job interview
just enough snow to bend
the maple branch
to leave or to stay...
the light and dark
of a spring wind
July First fireworks
the smell of solitude
lingering
maple leaves
falling by ones, by twos --
the smell of mooncakes
this urge
to look back on my life ...
a wedge of geese
a fleeting dream
in winter moonlight
notes of an erhu
my dog and I
in a patch of sunlight
New Year's morning
budding blossoms…
a love poem for no one
in particular
drifting petals ...
a monarch butterfly
completes my dream
something old
that is always new
summer stars
alone
walking the house all night --
moon festival
blizzard on the way
my immigrant past
withering
hometown memories...
spring water
against my legs
Pacific shore . . .
I speak to the chestnut moon
in my mother tongue
first homecoming...
the silence lengthened
tree by tree
mother squeezing
the side of my belly
first hometown visit
from Lake Ontario
I scoop the Taiwan moon
distant sirens
October snowflakes ...
thoughts of home whirling
in my mind
winter
rain
drops
my
reflection
first sunrise
the silver strand
in my hair
budding cherry petals ...
three blue-eyed teens greet me
with middle fingers
last cherry petals
drift to the ground
I miss myself
offshoring jobs...
the last glow of sunset
at the horizon
harvest moon rising ....
a tremble
in the migrant's voice
writing haiku...
autumn sunlight breaks
through a wall of gray
oh, so, you're a poet
the aftertaste
of her words
drifting snowflakes...
your poem, a bit of this
and a bit of that
the porridge
on my coffee-stained desk
rewriting haiku
(for Jack Kerouac)
lunar eclipse
can my words map the contour
of a void?
shades of winter light
I tune in
to the silence
Silent Night
drifting in from the neighbors --
I relearn Chinese
a full moon
between mother and me
the Pacific
Postface
To Liv(e)
My Dear:
Upon reading your ground-floor comment regarding my decision to emigrate
to Canada, “you're a dreamer with your head in the clouds, paying little
attention to the reality on the ground,” I laugh… to tears.
It reminds me that Ingmar Bergman once commented on Elliot Gould, “It
was the impatience of a soul to find out things about reality and himself, and
that is one thing that always makes me touched almost to tears, that
impatience of the soul.”
I miss you, miss the conversations we used to have inside and outside the
theater, and miss your favorite actress Liv Ullmann and our dream.
autumn twilight
a butterfly darts in and out
of my shadow
It’s true that my immigrant life here is much tougher than I thought. It can
easily thrust me into troubling circumstances that threaten to undo my
“mastery” over those things that matter most.
Thanks for your advice: “don't let life make your heart hard; sometimes, you
need to keep one of your eyes open and the other closed.” You told me that
you've long found yourself mesmerized by Pablo Picasso’s painting, “The
Head of a Medical Student,” a face in the form of an African mask with one
eye open, and the other closed. I can generalize about the provocative
poignancy of this painting: most people live their lives with one of their eyes
keenly open to the dangers of the world and the uncertainty of the human
condition; their other eye is closed so they do not see or feel too many of
these things, so they can get on with their lives.
fight after fight
against loneliness --
waning moon
I don’t want to drag you into our decade-old debate again. But, is this the
kind of life we’re going to pursue after spending years together reading,
seeing, and discussing so many artistic works on life and death? Your
Ullmann once quoted Bergman as saying, “Perhaps there’s no reality; reality
exists only as a longing.” For me, my longing is reality.
falling off a dream I become a butterfly
Love,
Chen-ou
Frogpond, 34:3, Fall 2011
Appendix
Commentary by the Judge, Penny Harter
In this collection we enter the life of being an immigrant, feel the loneliness
of being between worlds, and the questions and challenges that arise from
that experience. One must learn a new language, a new landscape, and a new
culture. The immigrant is at first cast adrift, never really at home, but never
really in exile, either.
winter rain
I fall asleep
holding myself
We don’t have to be a stranger in a strange land to feel this degree of
loneliness, but being one makes it all the more poignant.
budding lotus
when did I become
who I am
When any of us have experienced a shift from one land to another, whether
chosen or forced upon us, this is a question we find ourselves asking more
than once. I know I have been asking it often since my husband died and I
only moved from north to south Jersey.
first homecoming . . .
the silence lengthened
tree by tree
And when we try to go home, we are changed, so home is changed. The
silence, the trees . . . how do we bridge the gap? And what self are we
bringing home again?
last cherry petals
drift to the ground
I miss myself
As we are becoming, day by day, our “new” selves, we miss the old, but
can’t go back. And that’s the way it is. But we go on! This is a collection
that makes us recognize the changes we must make—and, if we are
immigrants, the changes are even more profound.
-- excerpted from "2014 TLP Haiku Chapbook Contest: Overall Comments"
Acknowledgements
Thanks are due to the editors and publishers of the following publications in
which these poems first appeared:
A Hundred Gourds, Acorn, Ardea, cattails, Chrysanthemum, Frogpond,
Haiku Canada Review, Haiku Pix Review, Kokako, Lynx, Lyrical Passion
Poetry E-Zine, Modern Haiku, NeverEnding Story, Notes From the Gean,
Presence, Shamrock, Simply Haiku, Sketchbook, The Heron's Nest,
Tinywords, Turtle Light Press, VerseWrights, Wednesday Haiku. Whispers,
and World Haiku Review.
For more information about publication credits, please visit Poetry in the
Moment, http://chenouliu.blogspot.ca/
A Life in Transition and Translation
Honorable Mention, Turtle Light Press Haiku Chapbook Competition, 2014
Biographical Sketch
Born in Taipei, Taiwan, Chen-ou Liu was a college teacher and two-time
winner of the national Best Book Review Radio Program Award. In 2002,
he emigrated to Canada and settled in Ajax, a suburb of Toronto. He is
currently Editor and Translator of NeverEnding Story, First English-Chinese
Haiku and Tanka Blog, http://neverendingstoryhaikutanka.blogspot.ca/, and
the author of five books, including Following the Moon to the Maple Land
(First Prize Winner of the 2011 Haiku Pix Review Chapbook Contest). His
tanka and haiku have been honored with 68 awards. Read more of his poems
at Poetry in the Moment, http://chenouliu.blogspot.com/
NeverEnding Story 2014