poems by chen hsiu-chen

  Tree and leaves 樹與葉
  
 The letter has energy
 I hug it tightly when shivering
 The letter may glow
 I hug it deeply in the dark
 The letter is a prophet
 I hug it hard when I am in distress
 The letter is a warrior
 I hug it when I am weak
  
 I hug the letter
 as if a branch holds the leaves firmly
 When the letter becomes 
 unbearable weight of life 
 I will start to release the leaves one by one 
 waiting for the tree ring to wake up the new leaves
 in another season. 
   

 Singing 唱歌 
  
 In the van bounding for Pristina 
 the group of poets sang in laughter all the way
 while I was watching the scenery outdoors
 in the melody ups and downs. 
  
 Most of leaves have turned into yellow or red
 those two warm colors are gifts for the winter.
 As we went across the mountains of Kosovo
 it emerged in my mind from time to time
 the pink capsules of Taiwan Golden-rain Tree.
  
 Happy songs drive away the fog.
 When asked to sing a Taiwanese song
 I was so flustered that
 could not find a folk song completely remembered.
 Finally, I barely sang a section of
 sad “rainy night flowers”.
  
 Is it because
 a sad Taiwanese
 so I could not find a happy song?

 Flag 旗
  
 The color of petals painted Prizren    hillside
 looks like a red handkerchief
 hanging in the early winter dusk
 confronting my eyes
 longing for warm.
  
 It also looks like a sail
 heading for my sleepless midnight 
 approaching to my heart
 surrounded by sea.
  
 In early morning
 a flag
 is waiting for your wind 
 to wave
 let me recognize
 whether a sign to hello
 or farewell. 

 In Prizren 在普里茲倫
  
 Passing through the heavy fogs of the Saar Mountains
 we arrived at revolutionary foundation built by the League of Prizren 
  
 The fortified castle on the hilltop
 could not prison the spring breeze
 could not prohibit the trend of Albanian independence 
  
 Under free sky
 the street artists sang Albanian folk song
 the poets from various countries followed the music to dance
  
 We took a picture on the bridge
 I wanted standing still
 to become a part of eternal landscape in Prizren
  
 We gathered under an old tree of four hundred years
 listening to her an ethnic history of bloody suffering 
 I would write down our Taiwanese story
  
 Under the hillside
 I was busy looking for wildflowers
 as if looking for an affectionate person to meet
 This was my unexpected journey
 I could not find the same flower twice
  
 The poetry festival came to an end
 A certain poets had to kiss us goodbye here
 saying farewell in their heart

Retrograde Vallejo’s footprints ／逆向巴列霍足跡
  
 From the bustling capital Lima 
 to the quiet highlands of the Andes mountains 
 from Trujillo university to secondary school 
 returning to homeland San Diego de Chanco 
 
 I retrograded Vallejo's footprints 
                          
 If life can be retrograded 
 Vallejo’s childish elder brother 
 can slip out of his grave in hiding 
 and continues to play unfinished hide and seek  
  
 If life can be retrograded 
 Vallejo may be still in a cynical mind
 to taste endlessly the bitter of life 
 as well as to suffer the prison and exile 
 with the hard bones blessed by God
  
 Ah
 the anger broke the soul of Vallejo
 down into a lot of flesh* 
 His poem is his scars and shadows 
 just like the woman's stretch marks  
  
 Anyone walks on own way 
 none can change the way of others 
 Though I want 
 to stop at the terminal of Vallejo 
 in order to write his unfinished life poems
 for him with a crown of thorns
  

  
 *Excerpted from the poem of Vallejo “ The Anger That Breaks a Man Down into          
 Boys / La cólera que quiebra al hombre en niños”.