Chapter 3: The Moment

An artist's mind is always wandering. Waiting for the right moment, I sit quietly drawing a person contemplating.

Where does one seek inspiration? Surroundings? People in one's life? My canvas had remained clean until I heard the song "River Flows in You." This song continues to flow in me. I repeated the song as I drew this person. This person is contemplating. Contemplating about worries? Why worry? Stop! This person's mind is filled with negative images that cannot be unveiled to others. The person tries to runaway from these images. This pain, this person just cannot control? So many things that cannot be said. Cannot help. Cannot say the reason for leaving. Until the person realized the pictures have already occurred, everything was too late. The person awaits punishment and readily accepts it. Has everything gone? Yes. This person believes it has. Wanted to explain. No courage. Will the person be accepted again? Afraid to know the answer is no. This Gift, should I embrace it or detest it? I will not answer. I will never go against natural causes anymore. Even so, I am not going to stop drawing.

It is late now. I am thinking time will heal the wounds caused. They were never meant to be created. I will await with a forgiving heart and will let this river continue to flow in me. I hear water streaming along with nature's force. Never ending. Never ending. I will let all the darkness fade away from my mind and be a light to the people around me.

1001 Nights

She always withdraws from communicating with others.

She waits from sunset until dawn.

In loneliness, autumn comes, spring goes.

Promises once made fly away into emptiness.

The person in her dream still hasn't returned.

1001 nights...

Not one night did she not think of him.

Every thought is overtaken by non-paired butterflies.

1001 nights...

Not one night did she not tear...

All the tears storming inside her heart have frozen.

That night the rain poured heavily.

The petals in the garden all fell.

Those golden chrysanthemum were planted for her.

Everyone tells her to let go.

But she will just smile back at you,

At the heart of her palm are all her memories.

1001 nights...

Every night I see her missing him.

Who is the one causing so much worry on her face?

1001 nights...

Every night I hear her tear.

I don't know how I could come to comfort her.

Let me start from tonight, stand by her, and softly sing

a warm melody for her.

After the flower blossoms......

I'm beginning another story. This is just the prelude.
Title: (To be determined)


What kind of key can lock a promise forever?

What kind of song can be sung forever?

After many many years later, when white hair becomes visible to the eye, will you still remember the promise that we'll forever know each other?

If I do want a forever, how many years can you give me?

After the flower blossoms, how long would it take for its petals to fall?

How far do the birds have to fly, so that we no longer can see them?

If young age lasts only one blink of eye, when do the loved ones have to leave each other?

We are all looking for a spring that will last forever.

We are all hoping for an everlasting promise.

But a beautiful dream can easily shatter.

Loved ones can easily languish

And eventually face each other with tears...

Chapter 2: This Night

This Night I sat down to draw again. Nothing came. I really wanted to do the drawing. I wanted to draw a landscape with butterflies. I promised a friend I would do this one for her.

No more ink. This pen, emptied of ink, suddenly reminded me of my desolate heart. I am sitting here in this very dark room. I have music on. I began to fight with my inner-self again. What is happening to my hand? Why can I not draw? I fell asleep. I seemed to have slept for a very long time.

simple

I wonder why it is so hard for me to think simple and write simple. I think my brain is filled with too much unnecessary junk that needs to be deleted with the computer keyboard delete button. UGH!

Book

I would like to read a new and interesting book. Any recommendations? A book that is inspirational and easy to read.

The Artist from Suzhou, China

Setting: End of War War II China, Inner China-Suzhou,


Between water and clouds situates the home of an artist named Han Yu. He sees himself living with nature, not people. This home he lives in is located on the outskirts of a beautiful city in Suzhou, China. A small simple home constructed with wood. Inside the home contains all his canvases of landscapes of places he has traveled to on his bike.

The other day Han Yu was sitting gazing at the distant mountains painting. It was a cloudy day. No sign of any sunlight. A thunderstorm suddenly roared. So reveled in his painting, Han Yu was not a least bit disturbed by the unpleasant sounds of nature. When the first raindrops dripped on his artwork, he was suddenly awakened from painting. He quickly grabbed his canvas and easel and threw all his art tools into his bag. He threw the bag around and across his shoulders and tied his canvas and easel to the back of his bike. Grabbing on to the front handles of his bike, he threw his right leg over the seat, had both feet firm on both pedals, and rode away to find the nearest tea shop to seek shelter from the rain.

As he rode quickly without caring what was ahead of him, he suddenly saw an oncoming bike, also riding hastily. Too late. Both bikes collided. As Han Yu got up to help the other cyclist, he realized he had bumped into a lady. As he held the lady carefully with his arms,........


(I need help with continuing this story that is going nowhere. Still need to describe the kind of clothing Chinese people wore around mid 1940s.)

The Poet's Thoughts...

The poet is about to begin this journey before the first sight of dawn.

The wind blows across his right shoulders. The moon is still apparent at the other side of the sky.

Whether it is night or day, the poet does not want to be trapped in between.

The poet is carefree.

The poet's heart is free of control. The poet decides his(her) destination.

The feelings of chaos, self-esteem, good, and bad all do not matter.

As long as there is compassion, the poet is not afraid of strangeness.

No matter how high the sky, the poet's happiness will surpass it.

To the poet, Happiness is the most important.

No matter how strong the wind is, it will not blow away the poet's compassion.

Every village or town the poet passes by, the poet will greet cold and warm people alike.

No matter how tough or frustrating life is, the poet will live strong and persevere.

The poet admits and understands to develop compassion for everyone takes time.

Tears and laughter are just part of the process.

At the piano.....

 An Enemy that Became My Best Friend

Only the piano is left here to talk to me...
It asked, "What is wrong?"
I responded by placing my fingers on the black and white keys.
It asked, "You want to talk?"
I took a deep breath and sighed.
It said, "I'll listen to you."
Then I began to play a piece expressing my anger and pain.
It asked, "You must be in agony."
I continued to play vehemently and pathetically until I hit the final chords.
It then said, "I will always be here as your friend and listen to you. Calm down and wipe your tears. The light will shine your way soon."  

Many years ago, I had stage freights. I didn't like being under the spotlight and watched by a sea of eyes. This may be the integral reason why I had never won a single piano competition.  Every time I performed on stage, my fingers were always bound to trip over a black or white key, and I would hit wrong notes.  Panic and embarrassment would follow.  The demons inside of me fought with my inner fear, until I let out my anger.  "Mom, I want to quit!" I shouted, as I rushed out of the competition with tears gushing out of my eyes.   She ignored me.  "Just because you never had the chance to play piano, doesn't mean I have to play!"  Again, I was ignored.  My piano teacher only encouraged me to fix my mistakes and move forward.  I am still unsure what force had me persevere and not give up this king of all instruments.   At age five, I saw the piano as an irritating beast that must be quickly destroyed, but now I see it as my best friend--a valuable treasure that can never be demolished.  It lives inside my heart, soul, and mind.

  I didn't see this transition from a mediocre pupil to a serious musician coming as I boarded the plane to Italy.  My mom signed me up for an intensive summer music camp that my piano teacher organized in a small seaside town in southern Italy. As soon as I landed and checked in the hotel, I immediately noticed the breathtaking view of the azure Mediterranean in front of me. I thought to myself, "What a beautiful place to learn music." 

   "Okay! Let's get going! Drop your luggages and we must head to the school and start our lessons!" shouted the teacher. "There's no time to waste! We have a performance tomorrow!"

   "Oh goodness, here we go again...," I muttered to myself.  

   "Everyone needs to hug their instruments and practice for at least five hours. You will receive an hour of lesson from one of us instructors. Remember to check the schedule for the time and place of your lesson. Don't be late!"

Where have all the flowers gone?

The laughter around me reminds me of those flowers.
In every corner of my life, they quietly blossom for me. I thought I would forever be by their sides.
However, today we all have departed in the vast sea of people.

Have they all aged?
Where have they all gone?
And like this, we have gone separate ways.

La…Miss them.
La…Are they still around?
La….Gone!

There are some stories that have been left untold and unfinished, then just let them be. It’s okay…
After so many years, those feelings have become difficult for me to determine if they are real or not.
Now, there are no longer any flowers growing profusely in this deserted grassland.
Fortunately, I once had the opportunity to spend the four seasons here with all of you.

Ah! ..Miss them!
Ah! ..Are they still around?
Ah! ……Gone!

Being blown away by the winds, they are scattered in faraway places.
Where have all the flowers gone?
Where have all the young girls gone?
Where have they all gone?
Where have all the young men gone?
Where have the soldiers gone?
Where have all the graveyards gone?
Where have all they gone?

Carrying my backpack of memories on my shoulders and returning home, I only see the sun casting its light across the vast yellow grassland.

Chapter 1: The Gift

I once hated the gift. The gift made me very ill a year ago. I felt a mountainous rage when nothing came about as I held the pencil. For many months, I sat down on the floor facing my sketchbook. I was running out of time. For months the sketchbook remained white. I tried to put lines and shades to it but it remained clean and white. I hated it clean and white. I sharpened my pencil again and again. I erased and erased. Still clean and white......

But never do I want to destroy this gift nor do I want it to fall to the side. I did it many times in the past. Will I do it again?

It is late now... I am staring at my new sketchbook. Still, nothing new is coming about. Clean and white.

The Poet's Tears

A free verse. Title - The Poet's Tears

天空飄著雪
The sky fleeting with snow.
詩人的淚
The poet's tears.
誰懂?
Who understands?
提著筆
Pen held.
眼里含著淚
Tears in the eyes.
寫下腦海里所有感人畫面。
All the moving pictures...

Definition of a story

Dear Friends,

What is your definition of a story? My definition: In a story, there is curiosity, discovery, laughter, union, bond, beautiful images, misunderstandings, mistakes, lost, tears, generosity, forgiving, compassion, regain, reunion, reminiscence, nostalgia, and many more. A story goes through a series of stages. Some of the stages will never be reached. Only time will know.

Third Edit of my reflections for this piece of Chinese translation.

Dear reader,

I would like to share a translation I did during a difficult time period of my life. They are lyrics that brought tears to my eyes and many, many thoughts and images into my mind.

Containing a few simple Chinese characters, these lyrics also taught me many important values about life.  People come and go. Those who continue to believe in you will always be by your side and love you no matter who you are. Success comes and goes.  An individual with moral character will always be successful. A misunderstanding can wind up in separation of loved ones forever. This is when we have to learn how to face reality, learn from past mistakes, forgive, and move on. Fame and popularity are not that important when you really think about it. It's helping others unconditionally, whether small or big, is what counts. Luxurious things are just illusions. Own enough you need. Those who learn to cherish the people around them, understand the happenings around them whether good or bad, and are content with the things they already own will realize that life can be made much easier.

These lyrics are written for a Chinese drama that tells a story of how a Chinese family of humble origins in the city of LingPo, China, set in the early 1900s until the present, owns a well-known Chinese library that had impacted their lives for many generations. Because these books had given them so much knowledge, the family valued them more than fame and luxuries. They taught them the importance of family, friendship, and many values, such as generosity, kindness, and forgiveness. They would do anything to protect these books.  During the merciless bombings of World War II on major cities of China, they risked their lives in transporting chests of books by pulling dozens of wooden pull carts on feet to the countryside in an effort to seek refuge and prevent the Japanese arms from confiscating their only assets........

Read the following translated lyrics slowly. See if any pictures come across your mind.


Title: "IF"

Chinese lyrics translated by Carol

Theme song 如果 to the drama 天一生水 Library written by 黃磊 Huang Lei (writer & director)

A river flowed by...

People passed by this river.
Only you remained.
And also I.

There is a story. (What story?)
You and I were in the story.
Together, we’ve been through many ups and downs in life.

Silent clouds.
Silent Clouds.
That once moved and also calmed the corners of our hearts.

Unfortunately, there is too much that occurred.
Only, "if"… ......we can go back,
But everything has become part of memory now.

A river flowed by...

People passed by this river.
But it wasn't you. Nor I. How do I express? How do I accept?
Standing in front of the mirror, how do I express my generosity, my forgiveness?

Silent Clouds.
Silent Couds.
That once moved and also calmed the corners of our hearts.

Unfortunately, there was not enough time for a good ending.
In time..........................,
there is no "if."

Rain poured heavily. Still people passed by the river.
But It wasn't you. Nor I. How do I express? How do I accept?
In the story, you and I missed each other.


Silent Clouds.
Silent Clouds.
That once moved and also calmed the corners of our hearts.


Unfortunately, there was not enough time for a good ending.

In time.....................

"if................."



Thank you, reader.

Original Chinese lyrics:
"如果”

有河流過 有人經過
剩下你 還有我
有個故 事（什麼故事） 有過你我 曾經有很多很多
沉默的雲朵 沉默的雲朵
曾波動也曾風平浪靜心裡的角落
可惜的事 已經有太多 記憶裡只有如果

有河流過 有人經過
不是你 也不是我 該怎麼說 比較能接受
鏡子裡 我的寬容 （故事裡 你我錯過）
沉默的雲朵 沉默的雲朵
曾波動也曾風平浪靜心裡的角落
可惜的是 來不及結果
時 間裡沒有如果

有雨飄落 有人經過
不是你 也不是我 該怎麼說 比較能接受
故事里你我錯過
沉默的雲朵 沉默的雲朵
曾波動也曾風平浪靜心裡的角落
可惜的是 來不及結果
時 間裡沒有如果

可惜的是 來不及結果
 時 間裡。。。如果。。