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Poems in Scotland, 2015
DATE: 15 August — 31 August 2015
PLACE: Edinburgh, Melrose
A Man of The Whisky Shop
A man is lazy to take a shower in the morning
and opens his shop after getting up from bed.
He gives out a sensual sigh deeply in the shop counter
while being surrounded by the angels’ share.
—Wildness where God dwells.
—Sea where ages lie on the bottom.
—Magnificent flowers even after they died.
—Wayfarer fog wandering aimlessly.
When he closes his eyes,
they become amber colored waves, surges over him,
and make him believe in a miracle
that we may make a fresh start in our life.
The doorbell is rung twice.
He will start the cash register,
open the unholy happiest time for the world
and guide in his last smoked voice burnt by raging fire.
(Lawnmarket, Edinburgh)
The Poet in The Park
“Her—”
A man called it so.
It was the artificial satellite
floating in the night sky
and hardly visible to the naked eye.
And he read a poem
with an attractive silver dress.
He sang a cheering song to her
as good friend floating together.
And he read the poem.
To teenagers having too long days after circus.
He sang about her rigour
she had to migrate forever.
And he read the poem.
The lights of a park flashed.
The swings creaked and swung of itself.
His love to her went along the park.
And he read the poem.
You would feel the poem breathed feebly,
the sweat rippled and twinkled on his cheek
and spangles spurted from his arms.
And he kept reading the poem.
To her smiling in the midst of a red fire line
he had found from the airplane before.
And he will be reading the poem forever.
(Summerhall, Edinburgh)
The Romances at St Andrew Square
Under a tent illuminated with thousand lamps,
Gin fizz fascinates with so beautiful neck,
Beer shows off great muscles of his chest,
they entwine waists, press tongues,
and they begin to dance slowly and quietly.
A yellow searchlight, and a purple lamp.
For a moment crossing these lights,
their figures come out in front of all eyes.
By the way, who can draw the lover?
“Probably the rain stops soon as always.”
Everyone believes so but it goes on raining
in the town of Edinburgh.
The sound of the rain is getting harder.
A Ferris wheel is turning in the distance.
The fireworks are set off repeatedly from Castle Rock.
The night is shrouded in smoky white.
Old Wine blushes,
And difficult Whiskey coughs on a park bench.
It is not long before the two fall in one shadow.
(St Andrew Square, Edinburgh)
Thistle of Melrose Abbey
Leaned, moss-covered,
forgotten from the public,
be perfected at last—Grave.
Ceiling is a blue sky floating clouds,
floor is grasses wet with dew,
and got freedom—Solemn Cathedral.
Buried in the sole stone pillar,
be deserted by God,
but keep bowing his head—Last Theologian.
Stares the street time goes on
with forgetting the blink,
and living out his fate—Gargoyle.
No hate, no jealousy and no grudge.
Even if he is reduced to just wings,
being innocent—Angel.
Quitted chiming all over the world,
now loving the beauty of standing still,
and floating in nothingness—Black Bell.
On the stones telling the vicissitudes
of people living this world in the past,
trembling gently in the wind—Modest Thistle.
(Melrose Abbey, Melrose)
In Bloom
Ride the wind,
Cross the sea,
Land on the soil,
Strike the root,
Bud soon,
Open the leaves,
Bloom at once
And bear fruit.
Who could laugh at
such a seed?
Gaze at my blueprint
with deepest tenderness,
Dream the rest of
my story together,
On my long journey,
I encountered
the affection of flowers.
the affection of flowers.
(Hannah Zakari, Edinburgh)
Mild Hill
The rye field blows.
The seeds whirled
and beat my boots.
The tree line leans behind me.
I look back.
There is an old road I once passed.
The stone wall is frozen hard.
It separates me from itself,
but I am about to connect with it.
Sheep sleeps whitely.
Cattle stares redly.
I am blue standing still.
At the height looking down hills.
On the bench named Will and Courage,
I cry wholeheartedly.
Weaving all,
a sheet of earth is heaving.
It is too mild for me.
(Scott’s View, St Boswells)
A man is lazy to take a shower in the morning
and opens his shop after getting up from bed.
He gives out a sensual sigh deeply in the shop counter
while being surrounded by the angels’ share.
—Wildness where God dwells.
—Sea where ages lie on the bottom.
—Magnificent flowers even after they died.
—Wayfarer fog wandering aimlessly.
When he closes his eyes,
they become amber colored waves, surges over him,
and make him believe in a miracle
that we may make a fresh start in our life.
The doorbell is rung twice.
He will start the cash register,
open the unholy happiest time for the world
and guide in his last smoked voice burnt by raging fire.
(Lawnmarket, Edinburgh)
The Poet in The Park
“Her—”
A man called it so.
It was the artificial satellite
floating in the night sky
and hardly visible to the naked eye.
And he read a poem
with an attractive silver dress.
He sang a cheering song to her
as good friend floating together.
And he read the poem.
To teenagers having too long days after circus.
He sang about her rigour
she had to migrate forever.
And he read the poem.
The lights of a park flashed.
The swings creaked and swung of itself.
His love to her went along the park.
And he read the poem.
You would feel the poem breathed feebly,
the sweat rippled and twinkled on his cheek
and spangles spurted from his arms.
And he kept reading the poem.
To her smiling in the midst of a red fire line
he had found from the airplane before.
And he will be reading the poem forever.
(Summerhall, Edinburgh)
The Romances at St Andrew Square
Under a tent illuminated with thousand lamps,
Gin fizz fascinates with so beautiful neck,
Beer shows off great muscles of his chest,
they entwine waists, press tongues,
and they begin to dance slowly and quietly.
A yellow searchlight, and a purple lamp.
For a moment crossing these lights,
their figures come out in front of all eyes.
By the way, who can draw the lover?
“Probably the rain stops soon as always.”
Everyone believes so but it goes on raining
in the town of Edinburgh.
The sound of the rain is getting harder.
A Ferris wheel is turning in the distance.
The fireworks are set off repeatedly from Castle Rock.
The night is shrouded in smoky white.
Old Wine blushes,
And difficult Whiskey coughs on a park bench.
It is not long before the two fall in one shadow.
(St Andrew Square, Edinburgh)
Thistle of Melrose Abbey
Leaned, moss-covered,
forgotten from the public,
be perfected at last—Grave.
Ceiling is a blue sky floating clouds,
floor is grasses wet with dew,
and got freedom—Solemn Cathedral.
Buried in the sole stone pillar,
be deserted by God,
but keep bowing his head—Last Theologian.
Stares the street time goes on
with forgetting the blink,
and living out his fate—Gargoyle.
No hate, no jealousy and no grudge.
Even if he is reduced to just wings,
being innocent—Angel.
Quitted chiming all over the world,
now loving the beauty of standing still,
and floating in nothingness—Black Bell.
On the stones telling the vicissitudes
of people living this world in the past,
trembling gently in the wind—Modest Thistle.
(Melrose Abbey, Melrose)
In Bloom
Ride the wind,
Cross the sea,
Land on the soil,
Strike the root,
Bud soon,
Open the leaves,
Bloom at once
And bear fruit.
Who could laugh at
such a seed?
Gaze at my blueprint
with deepest tenderness,
Dream the rest of
my story together,
On my long journey,
I encountered
the affection of flowers.
the affection of flowers.
(Hannah Zakari, Edinburgh)
Mild Hill
The rye field blows.
The seeds whirled
and beat my boots.
The tree line leans behind me.
I look back.
There is an old road I once passed.
The stone wall is frozen hard.
It separates me from itself,
but I am about to connect with it.
Sheep sleeps whitely.
Cattle stares redly.
I am blue standing still.
At the height looking down hills.
On the bench named Will and Courage,
I cry wholeheartedly.
Weaving all,
a sheet of earth is heaving.
It is too mild for me.
(Scott’s View, St Boswells)