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Poems in Scotland, 2019
DATE: 4 February — 18 February 2019
PLACE: Glasgow, Edinburgh, Isle of Islay
Room
A Birthday card in the cupboard
A mark torn up note
Swollen steam in the bathroom
Sound someone spreads butter on bread
A laundry rope outside the window
Red birds in the wintry sky
White smoke rising up from chimneys
Laughter of kindergarten children
The window breathes morning air with pursing it lips
The sunshine flows into my room like music
A cat trembles gently like a meadow
Flowers now wake up by the window
(Hannah&Tom House, Leith, Edinburgh)
Coffee Shop
The old talk about politics
A dog shelters from the rain with a man
A lady is waiting for someone
It is rain increasingly harder
and the floor gets wet and glisten
A coffee roaster listens to
the regular customers’ chatting
whilst making an espresso
and answers East Europe accent
His eye are the colour of the peat draining into the sea
The usual faces come to the shop
and say goodbye as soon as buying the usual beans
A woman runs down the street
with yellow flowers in her hands
The doorbell is swinging after the sound faded away
J. K. Rowling never wrote here
about her fantasy
but a people’s history
has been around for a long time
at this street being scent of the sweets and bitters
(Artisan Roast Coffee Roasters, Edinburgh)
Thread
The land doesn’t have mercy
The rain suddenly falls, the wind constantly blows,
even so, a man keeps walking
The man loves flowers blooming on roadside,
and holds waves washing on the shore
Not forgetting his heart,
he has gently moved ahead
step by step a long way
The morning shining through the grey sky
The reddish sand in a glittering river
As weaving one piece of land
by each colourful scenes
we can knit them beautiful—
warm blankets, soft scarves,
today and lives
by our own thread.
(STAG&BRUCE, Edinburgh)
Shepherd’s Cap
Neither running through time nor going back time
is not particularly difficult as we think it is
However she stays close beside time
At the corner of the room in a white barn
she sits a chair, turns the spinning wheel
and keeps twisting the yarn of time
On the windy grass outside a window
her black sheep is grazing in silence
I am not the man like her
I stare vacantly the stream of time from the far shore
I seem the wind outside the window
not to accept to stay here or to follow
Therefore I am moved to tears
I wear her hand-knit cap
and face the sunset shining an island
I caught a warm scent—
(Tormisdale Croft Crafts, Isle of Islay)
Horse and Woman
“She is in a bad mood today.”
A woman stroked the hair of an excited horse
and run slow as usual
along a country road in the silent rain
whilst gently feeling sympathy for
the loneliness of bird flying through the cloud
the sadness of moss covered the stone wall
Ere long the woman gave a signal
to touch the horse body lightly by her ankle
The horse neighed in high glee
and they passed by me
with the sound of the hoofs kicking pebbles
A road went through a kirkyard quietly
then, it continued to a hill clouds flew
(Port Ellen, Isle of Islay)
Wind Traveler
Coming to the tip of the cape
without waving hand, without say anything
you only stand there
At your feet getting wet
flowers are trembling for no reason
Black waves are surging
Going to the tip of the bow
on the last ferry of the day
I just pray for
your days filled with happiness
A cormorant drifts on the waves
Sunset lights the valley
(Port Askaig, Isle of Islay)
Die in the field
Looking back, I was in the light
Birds, clouds, wind vanished
Only my shadow lengthened over the hill
“Being alive means dying.”
I wondered why I said so in a murmur
So I tried to flop down
Therefore, I did
A single flower died in the field
To the sky, the field was flowing
(Lyrabus, Isle of Islay)
Migration
When someone cries, other also cries.
And then, she begins to flap,
After that, he also flies behind her.
Finally, they fly up all together.
Sea trembles, the water ripples.
The sun shines and slipped through the waves
and clouds flow faster as they are
the tide spreads under the marsh and overflows.
A man on the shore comes to the road again.
He leaves for a next journey with muddy shoes.
And then, this planet goes on.
It is a long migration—never ending.
(Loch Indaal, Isle of Islay)
Tears
Not that I am sad.
Not that I am lonely,
Not that I am in pain.
Just being moved—
these tears are only for that.
Come to this place,
stand here,
being blown by the wind,
Only then
did I find you.
We are not apart.
From the beginning
We have always been one
at this place, like this.
(A846, Isle of Islay)
On the cliff
I am no longer human.
Closed my eyes, opened my arms,
forgot words, and I lost my verse.
The land comes to an end here.
I have to give up once and for all.
It is meaningless that I am me.
I am decayed and be into dust
a long time ago.
Wind blows through my chest,
My throat sucks up water.
My finger creeps the cliff,
New buds appear in my eyes.
I do not wish to backslide.
I will go as far away as possible.
(Mull of Oa, Isle of Islay)
A Birthday card in the cupboard
A mark torn up note
Swollen steam in the bathroom
Sound someone spreads butter on bread
A laundry rope outside the window
Red birds in the wintry sky
White smoke rising up from chimneys
Laughter of kindergarten children
The window breathes morning air with pursing it lips
The sunshine flows into my room like music
A cat trembles gently like a meadow
Flowers now wake up by the window
(Hannah&Tom House, Leith, Edinburgh)
Coffee Shop
The old talk about politics
A dog shelters from the rain with a man
A lady is waiting for someone
It is rain increasingly harder
and the floor gets wet and glisten
A coffee roaster listens to
the regular customers’ chatting
whilst making an espresso
and answers East Europe accent
His eye are the colour of the peat draining into the sea
The usual faces come to the shop
and say goodbye as soon as buying the usual beans
A woman runs down the street
with yellow flowers in her hands
The doorbell is swinging after the sound faded away
J. K. Rowling never wrote here
about her fantasy
but a people’s history
has been around for a long time
at this street being scent of the sweets and bitters
(Artisan Roast Coffee Roasters, Edinburgh)
Thread
The land doesn’t have mercy
The rain suddenly falls, the wind constantly blows,
even so, a man keeps walking
The man loves flowers blooming on roadside,
and holds waves washing on the shore
Not forgetting his heart,
he has gently moved ahead
step by step a long way
The morning shining through the grey sky
The reddish sand in a glittering river
As weaving one piece of land
by each colourful scenes
we can knit them beautiful—
warm blankets, soft scarves,
today and lives
by our own thread.
(STAG&BRUCE, Edinburgh)
Shepherd’s Cap
Neither running through time nor going back time
is not particularly difficult as we think it is
However she stays close beside time
At the corner of the room in a white barn
she sits a chair, turns the spinning wheel
and keeps twisting the yarn of time
On the windy grass outside a window
her black sheep is grazing in silence
I am not the man like her
I stare vacantly the stream of time from the far shore
I seem the wind outside the window
not to accept to stay here or to follow
Therefore I am moved to tears
I wear her hand-knit cap
and face the sunset shining an island
I caught a warm scent—
(Tormisdale Croft Crafts, Isle of Islay)
Horse and Woman
“She is in a bad mood today.”
A woman stroked the hair of an excited horse
and run slow as usual
along a country road in the silent rain
whilst gently feeling sympathy for
the loneliness of bird flying through the cloud
the sadness of moss covered the stone wall
Ere long the woman gave a signal
to touch the horse body lightly by her ankle
The horse neighed in high glee
and they passed by me
with the sound of the hoofs kicking pebbles
A road went through a kirkyard quietly
then, it continued to a hill clouds flew
(Port Ellen, Isle of Islay)
Wind Traveler
Coming to the tip of the cape
without waving hand, without say anything
you only stand there
At your feet getting wet
flowers are trembling for no reason
Black waves are surging
Going to the tip of the bow
on the last ferry of the day
I just pray for
your days filled with happiness
A cormorant drifts on the waves
Sunset lights the valley
(Port Askaig, Isle of Islay)
Die in the field
Looking back, I was in the light
Birds, clouds, wind vanished
Only my shadow lengthened over the hill
“Being alive means dying.”
I wondered why I said so in a murmur
So I tried to flop down
Therefore, I did
A single flower died in the field
To the sky, the field was flowing
(Lyrabus, Isle of Islay)
Migration
When someone cries, other also cries.
And then, she begins to flap,
After that, he also flies behind her.
Finally, they fly up all together.
Sea trembles, the water ripples.
The sun shines and slipped through the waves
and clouds flow faster as they are
the tide spreads under the marsh and overflows.
A man on the shore comes to the road again.
He leaves for a next journey with muddy shoes.
And then, this planet goes on.
It is a long migration—never ending.
(Loch Indaal, Isle of Islay)
Tears
Not that I am sad.
Not that I am lonely,
Not that I am in pain.
Just being moved—
these tears are only for that.
Come to this place,
stand here,
being blown by the wind,
Only then
did I find you.
We are not apart.
From the beginning
We have always been one
at this place, like this.
(A846, Isle of Islay)
On the cliff
I am no longer human.
Closed my eyes, opened my arms,
forgot words, and I lost my verse.
The land comes to an end here.
I have to give up once and for all.
It is meaningless that I am me.
I am decayed and be into dust
a long time ago.
Wind blows through my chest,
My throat sucks up water.
My finger creeps the cliff,
New buds appear in my eyes.
I do not wish to backslide.
I will go as far away as possible.
(Mull of Oa, Isle of Islay)