While on a pensive mood inside the library, I cannot help but rewrite a Chinese poem which somewhat alludes to ChuangTzu's butterfly dream.
Repel illusions. Focus on reality. What seems is not what is.
Depression kicking in but I don't plan to lose.
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Saturday, March 19, 2016
Chinese Poetry 001
While on a pensive mood inside the library, I cannot help but rewrite a Chinese poem which somewhat alludes to ChuangTzu's butterfly dream.
Repel illusions. Focus on reality. What seems is not what is.
Depression kicking in but I don't plan to lose.
Sunday, October 18, 2015
Biking and Bruce Lee Exhibit @ Hong Kong Heritage Museum 08292015
On the morning we planned to bike, it rained hard and I was afraid the plan will not push through. I've always wanted to bike, to feel the grounds while pedaling instead of walking and running, for a change. In my recent trip to Hong Kong I did just that but with rear bike trainers because I'm just a beginner and I'm not yet used to cycling and yet I biked some 20 km though not a traverse.
By the time we exited Sha Tin Wai Station, the rain had not yet stopped. We spent [read: wasted] time waiting for the rains to let up while engaging in conversation with the boys manning the bike rental shop across the MTR station. That plus a few arguments because they misunderstood us. I was already in a foul mood, mirroring the weather. So we all decided to visit the Hong Kong Heritage Museum first to check out the exhibits but I was sad to say that we didn't go around to see everything. There was a a temporary exhibit on Bruce Lee's life and we only came in for that. [Sad because there was also an exhibit in Chinese paintings but they were in a hurry to bike when the sun was out. #cries]
Photos were not allowed inside the gallery because it contained Bruce Lee's personal items on loan temporarily. While many of us know Bruce Lee as just one of the greatest kung fu artist in films, it should be noted that this man was also instrumental in making kung fu popular in the West. I have seen his academic records and he is pretty much an average student BUT he has an entrepreneurial mind with a clear vision. What I found interesting is that he is also a very insightful person with very little regards for anything shallow. He hates parties, the things that go with fame which separates him from his beloved wife and children many times, but his is a passion unsurpassed for his chosen field. That passion brought him to achieve the status of a legend for which he is known today.
Needless to say, his life provides much inspiration. Born in San Francisco, USA, he grew up and went to school in Hong Kong. He went back to the US to pursue his college studies and he met his wife Linda Emery there. What endears him to me and what I find common in us is that we both love reading, writing, and reflecting on things. He even wrote a poem "Walking along Lake Wash", incorporating many elements like the moon, the water, merging water and sky... common motifs I also use in my poems. Reading it, I felt like I should really read more about him as I might pick up a thing or two on how to also achieve my dreams. His is a philosophy that merges learnings from martial arts to everyday life. Also of note is his notebook, with clear legible handwriting in cursive form. Here he noted down cha-cha steps in a methodical way.
After that quick museum visit, we proceeded with biking. Fresh air. I made sure to breathe very deeply because I seldom get a chance to have such fresh air. It also helps that we biked after the rain. And so we were treated to awesome city sights as we pedaled on the bike trail overlooking Shing Mun River.
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| heart-shaped rock art in Ma On Shan beach |
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| stopover at the beach in Ma On Shan |
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| where we had snacks of siomai and fish cakes |
Many times I would find myself almost falling over and I could feel my cousins being worried about me. I told them that I only bike around in circles in a very small area in UP. LOL. I do that without trainer wheels but well, its more manageable because I don't have to worry about cars and people. Here it was different. We crossed streets. We biked with other bikers. We had to be alert lest some overtaking jerks send us flying to the river. One thing I learned is to focus. Biking may just be the very thing to help me work on getting a focused mind. Another thing is that a relaxed mind creates wonders. It helps that we passed by many picturesque views.
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| I LOVE reflection photos :) |
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| one more reflection photo |
On the way back to my aunt's house, I could feel my butt hurting. It was my first time to bike that far. It was an awesome experience and one for the books [in my opinion LOL]. But I know that once I go back to Manila I will crave that pain, that I will certainly miss the tiredness, the sweat, the minor panic attacks, the adrenaline rush...
And my aunt, a very good cook, must knew how tired we were. We were treated to a sumptuous dinner of shrimps and vegetables. YUM!!!
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| dinner after a tiring yet fun-filled day |
Read: My Hong Kong 2015 in a nutshell
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I will have to thank IB for teaching me the basics of bicycling. And I hope that my other friends who promised to teach me how to bike will keep their promise. Except maybe they lose patience because I can be a scaredy cat sometimes. M invited me once to bike along NLEX and I had to decline her invitation because 1.) I don't have a bike 2.) I don't think I can bike that easily with cars moving on my side. @.@
I am so proud of my cousins for being such courageous bikers. I wish I could be like them... except I was so sheltered when I was young. #cries [This brings a resolve to never do the same to my children... But okay, I need a lover first. #criessomemore]
Saturday, October 26, 2013
Dead Poets Society (1989)
Just finished watching Dead Poets Society, a 1989 movie drama about an English teacher named John Keating (played by no other than Robin Williams) who was out to inspire his students by way of poetry--- romantic poetry to be precise. The only problem is that the school values tradition and Keating's unorthodoxy posed a problem when students caused trouble. One somehow got his article published in the school newspaper, the gist of which is that the school should accept girls alongside boys. But things got serious when a student committed suicide because his father decided to transfer him to a military school instead after seeing him in a play. Keating was made a scapegoat so the students will be able to continue on with their lives and save themselves from expulsion.
When I first heard the title of this movie, I thought it was another one of those stupid horror movies or psychological thrillers. It's a good thing I discovered Robin Williams played the major role and so I was assured that it's no horror flick. Dead Poets Society is actually the name of the club formed by Keating's students. The members meet in a cave at night to discuss poetry and most times goof around.
As a former teacher (and still aspiring to be a teacher again), I can very well relate to John Keating. We're both romanticists and care little for pragmatism (though a professor of mine once described me as pragmatic... Well yes, I can be that, too, but I still am more of a romanticist). Romanticism, after all, is all about passion, the search for truth and beauty, the search for individual freedom, characterized by non-conformity. I find it a delight to hear quotes from the likes of Shakespeare, Lord Byron, Robert Frost, and Henry David Thoreau.
I remember that one semester when I taught Spanish in a university. Since it was my first time to teach at the collegiate level, I was more than eager to share what I know to my students, to take it as an opportunity to inspire those who are younger than me. I was 22 then and many of my students didn't respect me at first. But whenever I speak Spanish in front of them, whenever I tell them a little about archaeology, whenever I excitedly tell them about the latest book I've enjoyed, I could see jaws drop and eyes sparkle. I must seemed like a cool nerd to them. Maybe it's just my illusion but things became easier when they got to know more about me, like how I could be strict but compassionate, just but merciful. Most of my students were graduating at that time. I was touched when some told me how they appreciated having me as their teacher, how they learned a lot not just Spanish but about life in general. As my first students, they have a special place in my heart. They taught me about perseverance, determination, and humility (and occasional jokes, and that it's okay to be me... childlike and with my own set of quirky idiosyncrasies.)
When I heard news of how students are made to pay exorbitant fees and how some of these fees are not even explained to them, I encouraged them to challenge this. Education is getting more and more commercialized and especially in a private school, many students pay for things they do not really need. The last straw was discovering that fellow teachers extort money from students in exchange for passing grades. I was shocked beyond words and then I decided that that's it, I'm having none of this. That school was not where I belong. At that time, I didn't think that challenging the system would bear good fruits since all teachers I knew were identified by my students as unscrupulous. I never felt so alone.
So I exited, but without the touchingly beautiful ending in Dead Poets Society, where Keating's students stood on their desk one by one as an act of defiance to the headmaster and as a final respect for the man who led them to believe in freedom and truth and beauty. I exited in silence, submitting my letter of resignation on the last day I inputted my students' grades. I never told my students I would be gone the following semester.
Right above is the proud look on Keating's face after seeing that finally his students knew how to stand up for what they believe in.
I'm so inspired to be a teacher again...
Friday, November 30, 2012
From Multiply 098: Down
There's a feeling of nothingness,
of alienation,
of sorrow and despair.
As I pass by the verdant fields,
melancholic winds blow through my hair
and embrace
my whole being.
How can I let myself
be dragged into such a hellhole?
How can I lose
vigilance over my
fragile sentiments?
How can I let such a jungle of a civilization get to me?
All the rage
All the frustrations
All the disappointments
Swirling
like a cyclone
infinite speed
no hesitation
I force a smile on my lips
I force myself
to think
happy thoughts
a path
the endless cycle of birth, death, and rebirth
down memory lane produces
There is nothing sadder than a girl alone in the wide fields
Sadder still is
a fragmented memory
for everyone
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
From Multiply 053: Untitled 002
Te vi
Otra vez
Aquella tarde
Cerca del
Edificio
Rojo.
Tumtumtum
A mí el corazón da
Ideas
Nocturnas de
Miel.
Incapaz de
Guiarme en los
Últimos momentos,
El cielo se unió con
Lágrimas mías.
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From Multiply 043: 送別-王維 (Farewell- Wang Wei)
Word for word:
Mountain center mutual escort stop
Day dusk shut wood door
Spring grass next year green
Prince offspring return not return
Translation:
We bid each other farewell beside the hill,
As day meets dusk, I close the wooden gate.
Next year, in spring, there will be green grass again,
But will my honoured friend return?
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From Multiply 042: 靜夜思- 李白 (Thoughts on a Still Night- Li Bai)
The most famous Tang poem, if not of all Chinese poems.
Word for word:
Bed before bright moon shine
Think be ground on frost
Raise head view bright moon
Lower head think home
Translation:
Before my bed, the moon is shining bright,
I think that it is frost upon the ground.
I raise my head and look at the bright moon,
I lower my head and think of home.
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From Multiply 041: 秋風詞- 李白 (Autumn Air- Li Bai)
Word for word:
Autumn wind clear
Autumn moon bright
Fall leaves gather and scatter
Jackdaw perch again startle
Each think each see know what day
This hour this night hard be feeling
Translation:
The autumn air is clear,
The autumn moon is bright.
Fallen leaves gather and scatter,
The jackdaw perches and starts anew.
We think of each other- when will we meet?
This hour, this night, my feelings are hard.
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Friday, November 23, 2012
From Multiply 025: La primera tristeza
Todas las noches, la luna
Vive en mis ojos, mas sobre
Todo es él.
Todas las noches, me doy
Yo, pero ¡qué pocas noches
Me doy yo!
Todas las noches le hablo
Mas ¡qué pocas veces me oye
Mi voz!
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From Multiply 024: Haiku 001
Akai chou
Tsubasa o hiroge
Kaze no naka
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From Multiply 023: Untitled 001
Vainly I search for you
Amidst the people in the thick crowd
Laughter coming from lovers
Engulfs and chokes my heart.
Nostalgia seems to make a move
Trains of thoughts accompany me.
Into which hole should I have entered?
Nobody told me it could get this painful.
“Even though it’s heart-wrenching…”
So I used to say back then.
Does the heart forget?
Am I the one to blame?
You alone I see from a distance.
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From Multiply 022: The Parrot
Splendid her plumage
Is to the eyes of people
Unknowing nothing.
Echoes clear, precise
She makes in the absence of
Deep comprehension.
I say, “I am good”
To the whole world thus she says
Laughter follows suit.
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From Multiply 021: Une nuit silencieuse
La nuit est silencieuse
La nuit est tranquille
Rien bouge pas
Rien sonne pas.
Les étoiles brillent
Comme les diamants parmi le sable
La lune sourit
Comme une déesse amoureuse.
La ville dort
Et rêve du paradis
Dans lequel les gens
Sont contentes, sont heureux.
La nuit est silencieuse
La nuit est tranquille
Rien bouge pas
Rien sonne pas.
Je suis toute seule
Regardant les lumières
Par le fenêtre grand-ouvert
Sous le ciel obscur.
Une larme s’écoule
Des yeux tristes
La tempête se lève
Dans le cœur.
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From Multiply 017: La lune dans l'eau
D’une fête d’une amie
Je viens une nuit,
Après la bière, les becs
Avec les femmes, les mecs.
En levant la tête
Au ciel chouette,
Les larmes, je les vois
S’écoulent à la fois.
Le clair de pleine lune
Embrasse mes joues, chacune,
Et puis, il me dit,
« Le monde n’est que petit. »
Et puis,
Et puis…
Elle me met en lumière,
J’oublie les choses d’hier ;
Du célèbre, du fort, du riche,
De tout, je m’en fiche.
La paix, elle me plait,
Même l’être sur et vrai.
Sans regardant le monde,
Je comprends le profond.
La lune dans l’eau
Est un submergé bateau ;
La lune au ciel
Plus douce que le miel.
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Saturday, September 22, 2012
From Multiply 015: Blue JAY
Oh Blue JAY, Blue JAY, wherefore art thou Blue JAY?
The moon was the sole witness to a sad affair
Shared by the princess and the Blue JAY
On that night when the small bird
Invaded the dream of the princess in lone woods.
In her dreams, her prince was in her room
Upon waking up, just the Blue JAY
And the sunlight streaming inside
Greeted her eyes brimming with tears.
She looked out into the window
And stares at the blue sky
The Blue JAY on her shoulder sang a song
A sad lullaby of farewells.
And he flapped his wings
Out into the big sky he flew
With a string of tears for the princess
The princess he never knew.
The princess recalled that fateful day
Of meeting the real Blue JAY
Sad, shy and oh so sorrowful
But a snob nevertheless.
“Blue JAY, Blue JAY, where are you?”
The princess called out to the world
But a scorn she received
For the Blue JAY hid himself.
Why does the Blue JAY appear
Still in her dreams fragile and sad?
Is it thus to torment her
Until the end of her days?
And so on this night
When all is yet all is not
Shall you invade the silence
Or shall you appear in reality?
Blue JAY, Blue JAY,
I call out to you.
Make the princess suffer no more.
Sing to her the love of yore.
Lend her your wings of love
And fly her to the skies above.
An echo shall ensue
To the ends of the world
To the infinity of time
“Blue JAAY, Blue JAAY!”
Oct 29, '08 7:15 AM
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From Multiply 013: The Rouge on Your Lips
Let me taste the rouge on your lips…
I am as pale as the moonlight on a foggy night,
The blood beneath my skin rushes out
To free itself from this body of desire,
As the needles of memory pierce my skin.
Your words are forged out of the sharpest steel
And you care not to whom you hurl those daggers
You have flung the sharpest right into my heart
And there it stayed until this very minute.
Let me taste the rouge on your lips…
I am as cold as the permafrost
I need the warmth from the blue flames of sadness
Let my thoughts be sent directly to your heart,
That you may know how you make me suffer.
Let me taste the rouge on your lips…
I am immobile as a marionette,
Only for a taste of your lips do I endure this agony.
But fain would I bow down to Death’s scythe,
If not a touch of your hand I feel this instant.
Let me taste the rouge on your lips…
My blood scatters around me
Like red petals against the backdrop of snow
Ah… the pain and the sadness and the torture…
They all make me want to taste the rouge on your lips.
Apr 20, '08 2:01 AM
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From Multiply 012: The Rain
I wake up to the sound of the rain,
Pounding furiously on cemented ground.
The infinite crystal needles from Heaven
Fall down upon the vulnerable hearts.
The sound of the rain is music to my ears,
Yet why does it make me want to cry?
For some particular reason,
I want to be one with the rain.
If Heaven is an idyllic paradise,
Why does it cry every now and then?
Or maybe it hurls the unwanted passions
To the world already inhabited by sorrow.
I have forgotten how it feels like
To be totally drenched in the rain.
My umbrella has shielded me from painful showers
How my body longs to be weakened now!
Ah, rainy days paint a melancholy scene
How beautiful nature works her piece!
My chest is being suffocated from the sad beauty
To the point of breaking into a million pieces.
Perhaps it would be nice to be together
Out there in the open, being drenched in the rain.
I would like to tell you a lot of things
While Heaven unleashes her passions.
Perhaps we could be together
After that moment in the rain.
Yet that moment is just a dream I weave
As I lie among the emerald serpents.
Everything is the rain’s fault!
The painful longing inside my heart
Intensifies to the point of breaking me,
But why do I love the rain?
Apr 20, '08 2:00 AM
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Saturday, September 15, 2012
From Multiply 010: Méli-mélo 007
By nature fair as the moon,
With talents to match a fairy,
Yet so eccentric that all marvel at her.
To her, men are filthy;
Rich men in silk are vulgar and loathsome.
She knows not that superiority fosters hatred,
For the world envies too much talents.
By the purple sky of the setting sun,
She will fade away,
Like a rainbow-colored bubble.
Her rouge and handkerchief,
Her youth and beauty, all wasted
For a man she both despises and loves.
Even as a crystal rose dropped in thick mud,
Young scions of noble houses will sigh for her.
Jan 2, '08 5:16 PM
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From Multiply 009: Méli-mélo 006
She is in a cradle left in swift waters,
And living in hard times, who will dote on her?
With luck, she is born too courageous and open-hearted,
Ever to take a love affair to heart.
Like bright moon and gentle zephyrs in the Phoenix Shrine,
Fate matches her with a handsome husband.
May she live with him for long years,
To make up for her wretched childhood!
But overhead the clouds disperse,
The river of honey runs dry.
This is the common fate of vulnerable men,
Useless it may be to resist.
Jan 2, '08 5:15 PM
for Miracle's friends and Miracle's family
From Multiply 008: Méli-mélo 005
Thousand of miles she must sail through hail and storm,
Giving up herself and everything she has,
But afraid to distress her own declining years.
She tells herself: “Do not shed tears,
Everything has been fated aeons ago .
People meet and then they bid farewell.
From now on, I shall live alone.
Let me live in peace.
Do not worry over the course of events.”
Jan 2, '08 5:14 PM
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