Sid
I HAVE SOME CHANTS TO ASK FOR YOUR COMMENTS
CHANTS TO THE OBSCURE—Confronting a Chinese New Year Recalling Jude
You click a lot, you link a lot
To peep what is the coming plot
To our slight instinct, you even dot
Precisely, onto our secret spot
But you should not be the one,
Like our loving daring fun
Who leaves his guess and pun
To play conclusions undone
Last time when calling Yvette Huang
I-lan, the sun didn’t see among
The steaming gutters ceased to blare
Tranquility we’d merely share
But aren’t you the gentle one
Like our pure and loving fun
Who blurs our skies and sun
To leave conclusions undone
A STORY WILL TELL A STORY
A story will tell a story
That is not true
When true be the speaker’s lips
But false the mood
And right be the flowery diction
His own mouth to be rued
But true is the pale one a lover
And the weak-minded to fool
Designs in shape of bolting thunder
Above Psyche’s rippling pool
For one thing, it changes never—
The rose, the lyre sustain the rule
That love will lull a soul to doom;
Always, it ripens in the lunar bloom
A BEAUTY August 4th, 1983
A beauty in sight
Is a trace on mind
Escape is thus wide
From her eyes of fire
To echoes of chimes
That abound in times
A beauty in touch
Is a joy of much
A beauty in glimpse
Is a hold of miss
CHILLING JOY April 28th, 1984
Donated love, a chilling joy
When Sadness makes him luff
Away in reaching Venus’ coy
Request; thereto a cuff
Is fastened tight to mind. And lyres
Thus mute to fetch a lay
From deepest deep of stark desires
That blind his sight. Oh, nay—
A pathos destiny he fears;
In pain, insanity it rears.
NOT TOO DEEP
Not too deep
Thy breathless sip
Into Maenads’ cups of grapery
But quench upon the exosphere
Of thy boundless solitude near
IN PRESENCE OF AN INFANT CHILD
Those two orbs of Innocence glide; those
Undusted with too much blur of human
Desires, that he might, in some
Syllable of time, hold true and to which
Be subordinate.
I ACHE, I AIL, AND I ACHE—Soliloquy of Jealousy
Ah, I ache, I ail, and I ache!
No bliss seen in Book of Life, to know
That Love hath made a woman strong,
Confounded in castle-walls of self-grantedness
Thou wouldst sometime blame the sake
Of rooted selfishness. And yeh—
Love ist selfish when it delight’th not in strains of mirth
A woman frail
In keeping her love all, unshocked, during
A half year. Frail! Frail before the Love Lyre’s playing
Fingers. Thus she maketh her heart comforted, abidng
All memories back, though, and
Striveth for a new ecstasy to signify
A consolation that I can in death learn.
And die Thou not weak; die evil,
For Humanity for me not a thing so blissful.
我說的不懂.....又不是這個意思!!!!!不過還是要謝謝你的用心註釋啦！
(要是布邱老大在場，一定要說：那到底是什麼意思?!妳們女生為什麼不乾脆一次講清楚?!)