Monday, 1 September 2014

[archived]: Experimental Poems-2 by Changming Yuan ©

Chanson of a Chinaman*

ching chong, coolie
chink, shina, chonky
so was i called a dragon of barbarity
a born rogue holding laws of truth in deformity
because i ate rats, dogs, slugs and snakes
i began with anything but genes of true humanity

ching chong, coolie
chink, shina, chonky
so am i made a dead enemy of civility
a growing grotesque against the white reality
because i hate freedom as much as human rights
though i have the right to remain a human entity

ching chong, coolie
chink, shina, chonky
so will i be seen a species of non-conformity
a satan inflated beyond the borders of christianity
as long as i’m pig-eyed, crow-haired, the farthest other
i must be treated as a real demon only

* A parody on ‘A Chanson for Canton,’ published in Punch (London: April 10, 1858), which offers a telling historical example illustrative of the deeply-rooted and long-held western tendency to demonize China as the farthest Other. 
Light vs Shadow

Was it the shadow?
Was it the shadow beyond?
Was it the shadow beyond the shadow?
Still fell the thick night,
When the heart blocked the light.

Yes, it is light!
It is light within!
It is light within light!
Loud sweeps the morning glow,
Where the mind has no shadow.

Community Cantos

Human History: A Digital Poem

five eleven
one seventy
and six or seven
thirty four
twenty nine
and thirty five
approximately equals
three and
indefinitely more

(point six one eight?)

eden as the function
for the whole world

Directory of Directions: A Module Poem

North: after the storm
            all dust hung up
            in the crowded air
            with his human face
            frozen into a dot of dust
            and a rising speckle of dust
            melted into his face
            to avoid this cold climate
            of his antarctic dream
            he relocated his naked soul
            at the dawn of summer

South:  like a raindrop
            on a small lotus leaf
            unable to find the spot
            to settle itself down
            in an early autumn shower
            my little canoe drifts around
near the horizon
            beyond the bare bay

Center:            deep from the thick forest
            a bird’s call echoes
            from ring to ring         
            within each tree
hardly perceivable
            before it suddenly
            dies off into the closet
            of a noisy human mind

West:   not unlike a giddy goat
            wandering among the ruins
            of a long lost civilization
            you keep searching
            in the central park
            a way out of the tall weeds
            as nature makes new york
            into a mummy blue

East:    in her beehive-like room
            so small that a yawning stretch
            would readily awaken
the whole apartment building
            she draws a picture on the wall
            of a tremendous tree
            that keeps growing
            until it shoots up
            from the cemented roof

N. E. W. S .: A Rotating Poem

North:  after the storm
            all dust hung up
            in the crowded air
            with his human face
            frozen into a dot of dust
            and a rising speckle of dust
            melted into his face
            to avoid this cold climate
            of his antarctic dream
            he relocated his naked soul
            at the dawn of summer

East:    in her beehive-like room
            so small that a yawning stretch
            would readily awaken
the whole apartment building
            she draws a picture on the wall
            of a tremendous tree
            that keeps growing
            until it shoots up
            from the cemented roof

West:   not unlike a giddy goat
            wandering among the ruins
            of a long lost civilization
            you keep searching
            in the central park
            a way out of the tall weeds
            as nature makes new york
            into a mummy blue

South:  like a raindrop
            on a small lotus leaf
            unable to find the spot
            to settle itself down
            in an early autumn shower
            my little canoe drifts around
near the horizon
            beyond the bare bay  

S. E. W. N .: A Rotating Poem

South:  like a raindrop
            on a small lotus leaf
            unable to find the spot
            to settle itself down
            in an early autumn shower
            my little canoe drifts around
near the horizon
            beyond the bare bay

East:    in her beehive-like room
            so small that a yawning stretch
            would readily awaken
the whole apartment building
            she draws a picture on the wall
            of a tremendous tree
            that keeps growing
            until it shoots up
            from the cemented roof

West:   not unlike a giddy goat
            wandering among the ruins
            of a long lost civilization
            you keep searching
            in the central park
            a way out of the tall weeds
            as nature makes new york
            into a mummy blue

North: after the storm
            all dust hung up
            in the crowded air
            with his human face
            frozen into a dot of dust
            and a rising speckle of dust
            melted into his face
            to avoid this cold climate
            of his antarctic dream
            he relocated his naked soul
            at the dawn of summer

Towards a Broader Highway: A Parallel Poem

Is it an old bumpkin again
Driving a jalopy ford pick up
Unable to speed up on a highway
Or some mrs billionaire sitting behind the wheel
Of a s8000 mecedez
Too careful with her fancy life
Somewhere in the front?

Surely there is no accident
No police patrol or even a red light
You fuck, you dumb shit, why do you
Have to drive so stupid slow
On such a grey Saturday evening?

You dumb shit, you shouldn’t do this, people
eager to press horns on you, to zigzag, to
Switch on and off their highbeams to protest
Against you originating such snail traffic

All of us have to drive at this speed you set
Even tho a red toyota cannot wait to make love tonight
A blue mac to have a good beer all by himself
And a white shadow to meet her death by the weekend

You fuck, blocking this long single-laned traffic
If only I were driving a crazy tank or a frenzy bulldozer
So I can crash your stupid soul, crush your snail car
And clear the way to my destiny in the twilight

Upgraded Groupings of Animals

A pod of turtles
A goggle of swans
A flock of tigers
A bevy of ducks
A clutter of mice
A cast of snakes
A murder of peacocks
And a pride of humans

1435 mm: The Width of the World

    rather than god-ruled
    or science-decided
this cold distance       
between the bloody wheels
of an ancient roman chariot
        toppled down long ago
on a forgotten English road
    with its ruts still clearcut
is actually man-made
    to rift off the two rivaling rails
        laid now to measure every nation
as they tightly tie
        the whole human civilization
into an open cage

Imperial Impressions:
            The First and Last Trip to Las Vegas

07:38am          Through Peace Arch
even a titan would strongly feel dwarfed
the moment he crosses the broad border

12:07pm          At Sea-Tac
            sorry to have forgotten to remove my shoes
            to help make this only superpower a bit safer

19:56pm          In the Strip
            every angle offers a memorable photo for the camera
            as each building defines magnificence in its own way

22:22pm          On a Stratosphere Bed
            with fragmented dreams festooned with foiled gold
            no poetry can be conceived among slot machines

America, America: A Zeugmatic Sketch

Every time you stage a play or an election in your own yard
You cannot wait to shake hands with your audiences and their wealth
No matter whether it is the passage of a new bill or an old dilemma
You excel particularly at manipulating public will and private property

With your weeping eyes and hands
You keep waging war and peace far beyond your boundaries
While you kill non-Americans and their hope together
To turn all others and othernesses into biblical dust

More often than not, you selfish intentions prove
Much more destructive than your smart bombs
You invisible fighter jets strike far farther
Than your visible arms of peace effort

You are simply too great for a small criticism
Too super-powerful for a weak opposition
Too democratic for a totalitarian competition
And too single-minded for a double standard
Elm’s Agenda

5am – 7:                exhaling carbon dioxide together with fret and frenzy
7am – 7:30:           reaching out its fingers to coop the first sunrays
7:30am – 8:                       getting ready to work
8am – 10:30:         watching humans walking or working
10:30am –10:45:   taking a shower break
10:45am –12:        negotiating with crows and squirrels
12am – 1pm:         taking a break from swirl winds
1pm – 5:                taking off all decorations
5pm – 6:                getting ready for the darkness
6pm –10:               keeping standing as the dusk closes its huge wings
10pm –5am:          witnessing dreams running rampant on the streets

Just A Quick Note
To have
The lock
I had


Theological Thesis

Nay, Eve did not
Eat the apple
Rather, she ate an onion
A really red hot onion

Nor was she seduced
By the ugly serpent
But by a handsome human
Who became her sole partner

So, the human history
Has been infused with
Women’s tears
And men’s guilt

Sexual Slogans

A steak a day keeps the court away
A touch a minute keeps the body in spirit
A lie an hour keeps the chief in power
An injection a night keeps the mind light
A dinner a week keeps the heart freak
A honeymoon a month keeps the government at arm’s length
A trip a season keeps the dog in reason
A chef a year keeps the house dear
A wedding a decade keeps the couple off headache

The Painting and the Viewer

The Painting
Close-up:         a clumsy collage of paint unevenly spread
Long-shot:       a landscape transplanted onto a canvass

The Viewer
On a hilltop:    he is admiring the vast mountain scene
At a porthole:  she is watching him lost in a small fresco


Tonight, in the heart
      Of ?________                                                                              

            A: darkness
            B: fret
            C: frenzy
D: twilight
E: …?
I move the _______
                A: lamp
    B: book
                C: picture
    D: torch
    E: …?
      from the outer world
      to my inner landscape
just like a train looming
swiftly and surely
out of a long tunnel

Certified Check Cashable against Any American Account

No:      6.000,000,001
Date:   4 July 1776
PAY TO THE ORDER OF:   Universe, Citizen
One hope two equalities three rights and four freedoms
                                                            XX/100 DOLLARS
Bank of Faith
WASHINGTON, DC 20500                         TEL:(1-888)999-9999

(Signature)_George Washington

Unedited Utterances

  1. are we really living
or actually being lived?

  1. their love of art
makes them grasp
while their love of god
makes them give up

  1. behind a wounded heart
is a heart wounded behind

  1. your birthday present
sent by generous time
is a big brilliant basket
filled with colored water

  1. the flood has come
this is a myth no more
the flood has gone
this is still a myth as before

Three Enthymemes

Human imagination is as infinite as universe
God is a human imagination
God is omniscient

The harder good is the better good
Virtue is the harder good to acquire than pleasure
Virtue is better good

Energy follows the law of preservation of matter
Art is a particular form of energy
Art is immortal

 Animal Virtue

in the big mouth
of an african alligator
open wide as broad daylight
a little nameless bird
is pecking joyfully
with leisure and pleasure
at his tooth slit
as if flirting with her bulky lover
trying to protect her
against the sun
burning flesh and earth

around the old
weak, sick and disabled
as well as innocent colts
the zebras get ready to build
a circle of wall
with their naked bodies
each time a lion looms
and waits for his first chance
to prey on one of the unlucky

alone and quietly
the doomed elephant
the once strongest of the rain forest
retreats deeper and deeper
into the limberlost of distances
struggling to die somewhere
in an unknown corner
far beyond the tusking territory
of his silent survivors
to keep their hope alive

Spectrum of Sensations

Life is a kaleidoscope of
            duo, rei, mi, fa, suo, lao, ti, duo
            red, blue, black, white, purple, green, yellow
            sour, sweet, bitter, hot, salty, puckery, greasy
            wet, dry, soft, hard, smooth, sharp, cold
            fresh, fragrant, foul, fishy, rotten, suffocating…

Steeper Seesaws
The higher the income, the lower the morals
The taller the building, the shorter the attention span
The bigger the house, the smaller the family

The more wealth, the less joy
The more conveniences, the less leisure
The more knowledge, the less judgment

The more medicine, the less health
The more protection, the less security
The faster the transportation, the slower the communication

The closer the network, the looser the relationships
The cleaner the environment, the dirtier the mind
The wider the highway, the narrower the perspective

 English Irrationalities

There might be love in between gloves
But no egg in eggplant, or ham in hamburger

English muffins did not originate from England
Nor French fries from France

Sweetmeats are actually candies
While sweetbreads are meat though not sweet at all

Readers read, singers sing
But typewriters do not type, nor fingers fing

A mouse can multiply into mice
But a grouse never into grice

People may recite at a play and play at a recital
Their noses run while their feet smell
They park on the driveway, or drive on the parkway
Ship by truck and send cargo by ship

Teachers may be taught, but preachers are never praught
One goose may stand between two geese
So may one tooth between two teeth
But a booth can never between two beeth

If vegetarians eat vegetables
What would so-called humanitarians do to humans?


not really because i have an invalid ticket=
but probably because i got on the wrong train=

      i keep elbowing my way from one car to another=
only to find no seat unoccupied or reserved for me=

huddling in cold together with my own soul and shadow=
i have but the corridor as my claim in this cage-like compartment=

      there is surely more room and warmth in a sleeping car=
yet without the conductor’s key i cannot pass the gate=

among my fellow passengers are relatives and strangers alike
they will keep me company whether they like my face or not=

      unawares many have gotten off the train at dawn or dusk=
but even more pack onto the cars each time we run idle=

i enjoy catching the scenes surging outside the window=
my only luggage left when I have to get off at my station

Prose Poems

Sell Liberation of Word’s Worth

Although with a broken pen soul, I am not writing tear ably or pointlessly on the new clear issue for the magazine run by a non-prophet society, set up on the basis of its members’ lie ability. To me, an operation would not secure but mean a sentence to the peace in that infected area. As a banana author, I may lack a peel, but it is rarely better to turn left than to be all right. To avoid a rest, I have de sided to go fast on a weak day; then I will call my sun to rice in the mourning after he falls in love at the first site. In deed, if we give the act an inch, it would become a ruler. Just like a life guard, I hope to keep all the buoys in line. With a film-like memory yet to be developed, I try to keep my head above the water as I swim for word, yet I have no interest in the bank. Unlike a lawyer who may be debarred or a model to be deposed, i will never become a poet to be decomposed, nor do I allow my train of thaw derailed; rather, I will commit sue side by continuing to write worse or move in verse.

Wisdom of Quietude

it happens in a huge warehouse full of priceable objects as workers of every conceivable height and weight are busy trying to find a little watch lost by an unknown fellow worker. for a whole hour of great confusion and desperation, they keep opening, closing, moving and removing the beautifully packaged cases or boxes but without being able to retrieve the indifferent time teller. finally, they cannot but give up and leave in asphyxiating disappointment. While everyone of them is taking a rest outside, a small boy steals into the warehouse alone and finds the precious thing only a few minutes later. "gee, how did you manage to do that, kid?" they vied with one another in asking him the same question. "well, all i did was just lie down on the floor quietly and stay put there for a couple of minutes, and the tick tock led me to locate the watch.”

Working Definition of Man

They enjoy covering their ideas, feelings, actions, words as well as their body parts with various garments; they evolve by inventing new weapons to kill their own species; they eat each other without spitting out the bones; they run after fame and wealth besides sex and food; and they tell lies, often saying what they never mean to say, and meaning what they never say they mean.

They show interest in truth, beauty and good; they are self sufficient, capable of producing food and music; they can smile and love; they try to cage those most ferocious among themselves; and they accumulate knowledge as well as material.

They have created money as well as gods…

[Suspected Spam]

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I am Ms Poesia, the only inherent of the late Art. Before the war broke out, my father deposited thousands of Stanzas in the Literary Canon. Given the present state of the human mind to be entertained in my society, I am hoping to get some understanding in installments from readers like you. For each reading I promise to offer you one golden Stanza to show my gratitude.

Please kindly contact me on this e-mail address for more details. (For example: one Golden Stanza is equivalent to about one million American Dollars.)

Miss Poesia
Peach Garden, Erehwon

Eastern Idioms

Ch’i, Or the Original Breath

neither the hindu prana
nor the Christian holy spirit
i am the authentic source
of light and energy
the force of vital life itself
that you cannot see
touch, taste, hear, or feel
but you can always map
my omnipresence
with the clairvoyant tentacles
of your spirited soul

like air, like water
like air married with water
i am constantly flowing
from yin to yang
or to yin from yang
through and around everything
seeking mixed smoothness
and becoming balanced
although in the depth
of my selfhood
contains an infinitesimal seed
ready to grow
into my own antiself

unworldly, beyond words
i do not even have a shape
but I do have a nickname
as lao zi used to call me
am DAO

Yin + Yang

the light soaring spirit
…within…the heavy metallic matter
the budding summer dawn
…beyond…the withered wintry dusk
the hot and hard sunbeam
…through…the cool and soft moonlight
the thin snowflakes
…along…the thick ink
the shiny plane
…around…the dark dot
the transparent palace
…from…the muddy field
the chasing eagle
…over…the submersed slab
the boundless southern sky
…above…the fenced northern earth
the dry poetic voice
…at…the wet narrative pitfall
the male
…with…the female
from and towards……the imbalanced balances

The Unpatented Quadrants

we chinamen, half and quarter chinamen
children of eight or sixteenth chinamen
constantly pounded with a peculiar pride
over our ancestry's four great inventions:

                        the first was paper to transcribe ancient ballads
                                    but later often used to give ultimata to your emperors
                        also the printing technique to transmit sages' teachings
                                    but later often used to exhibit your ugliest scars
                        a third the compass to help find the golden dragon
                                    but later often used to guide your foreign creditors
                        the last gunpowder to launch fireworks at spring festival
                                    but later often used to bombard your long walls

            they chinese, half and quarter chinese
            children of eight or sixteenth chinese
            baffled with belief, brief belief
            that their unknown ancestors happened to invent
                        the wrong stuffs in the right times
                        or the right stuffs in the wrong places

Fate Forecast
            - Believe it or not, the ancient Theory of the Five Elements accounts for us all.

1 Metal (born in a year ending in 0 or 1)
-helps water but hinders wood; helped by earth but hindered by fire
he used to be totally dull-colored
because he came from the earth’s inside
now he has become a super-conductor
for cold words, hot pictures and light itself
            all being transmitted through his throat

2 Water (born in a year ending in 2 or 3)
-helps wood but hinders fire; helped by metal but hindered by earth
with her transparent tenderness
coded with colorless violence
she is always ready to support
or sink the powerful boat
                        sailing south

3 Wood (born in a year ending 4 or 5)
-helps fire but hinders earth; helped by water but hindered by metal
rings in rings have been opened or broken
like echoes that roll from home to home
each containing fragments of green
trying to tell their tales
                  from the forest’s depths

4 Fire (born in a year ending 6 or 7)
-helps earth but hinders metal; helped by wood but hindered by water
your soft power bursting from your ribcage
as enthusiastic as a phoenix is supposed to be
when you fly your lipless kisses
you reach out your hearts
                        until they are all broken

5 Earth (born in a year ending in 8 or 9)
-helps metal but hinders water; helped by fire but hindered by wood
i think not; therefore, I am not
what I am, but I have a color
the skin my heart wears inside out
tattooed intricately
            with footprints of history

The Ballad in Bagua (Or Eight Trigrams): A Mini Epic*

qua a: The Creative

hush! did you ever hear
in the very vastest void
a voice almost invisible
awakening Pan Gu
the great father of life
who had arisen
slowly but steadily
amidst all nothingness?

with his hands like a huge ax
Pan Gu clove the chaos into yin and yang
one floating high above
clear and clean
until it formed the heavens
the other sinking deep down
turbid and turbulent
until it solidified into the earth

even bigger than the entire universe
his mind in itself can create
a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven
just as his first manifesto
still echoes from soul to soul:
there is neither god, nor heaven
i am god and i am heaven
let there be a lightway, and here i come!

gua b: The Lake

soon after Pan Gu                   put the universe in order
there were more than              one thousand thunders
exploded as though                 in a single big blast
triggering a super-                   scaled skyquake
whose tremendous                  tremors traveled
along the ever                          darkening lightning
that created cracks                  and crevices
across the boundless               vault of the heavens

her newborns striving hard but hopeless to survive
the flood, the drought as well as the famine
Nuwa, the gracious mother of the human race
to whom power had been an eternal joy
ceased changing her forms and shapes
starting to rescue her young children
from the danger of being swallowed by death
without getting a chance to grow on their own

day in and day out
not knowing what was tiring
she filled, smoothed and ironed
every gap that needed to be treated
with the soft five-colored stones
she had defined and refined
in her first alchemist’s furnace
until the whole firmament was fully mended

gua c: The Clinging

in the south dominates Yan Di the Great
in the north rules Huang Di the Mighty
they are both Nuwa’s worthy offspring
but they never brother each other
followed by deities and humans alike
they fight fiercely and formidably
for women, for wealth or for war’s sake

the biggest battle                     breaks out in Banchuan
metal scales agape                   with burning cold
chain mail glitters                    over death’s shadows
banners fluttering                    against loud cries
as thick and dark clouds         keep whelming
the whole city seems               ready to collapse
even night is so much              scared to death
it hides itself in                       an unseen corner

for a thousand long days and nights
the whole universe holds its breath
while watching the all decisive dual
between the two heavenly rivals
like tsunamis meeting at the horizon
not a single drop of blood is shed in disgrace
until most are fallen forever in the fields
or too exhausted to return to the heavens

gua d: The Thunder

to revenge on his captain’s      shame of defeat
chi You stages                         an all-front or total war
by summoning                         every wind above earth
retrieving every rain                under the sky
and enrolling each                   fighter of ferocity
like thousands of                     wild mammoths of horror
stampeding at                          an unheard thunder
against the defence                 line of Huang Di

to meet Chi’s challenge           Huang Di dispatches
Yin Long his most valiant       and capable general
who never holds a weapon     in his handsome hands
but on the wall of                    his courageous mind
hangs a sword that                  can break from its case
readily leap forward                like a flying dragon
to cut off the head                  of an arch-enemy
even it is more than                 one hundred zhang away

seeing Yin Long’s legions fail to curb
the sweeping storms manipulated by Chi You
Ba the most talented and beautiful princess
offers to join in the half-fought battle
by stilling each violent wind and rain
to help destroy the most destructive forces
despite the puzzled eye of those who see her:
who is among us this extraordinary fair warrior?

gua e: The Receptive

the greatest                              rebel of all time
was not born                           to be a rebel
but wherever                           there is oppression
there will be                            a timely rebellion
this is                                       a universal truth
although it never has               been hand-written
like the law formulated           for every action
there is an equal                      opposite reaction

the door for dogs and pigs      is widely open
while the gate for humans       is tightly closed
a loud voice is calling              outside the prison
come out, come out,                i will give you freedom
Xin Tian fondly                      desires freedom
but he knows it                       all too well
how can a human bod y          crawl his way
out of the desperate door         for animals?

his mind can                            never be slaved
nor can his will                        be walled
Xin Tian has                            to be beheaded
but the moment                       his head chopped off
he restarts to wave                  with wonders
his brave axe                           and unbending shield
trying to see                            with his nipples
and roaring                              with his naval instead

gua f: The Mountain

just like any other normal bird
jing Wei has a beak sharp and hard
with which to peck around on the ground
and pursue her dream dropped while flying
she has a pair of wings of heavenly hope
plumed with feathers of despair
that empower her to fly long distance
and low enough to her father’s kingdom

but unlike any other                bird on earth
her calls and songs                  are her own name
who used                                 to take a lonely walk
along a less trodden trail         in the woods
until on a hot and                    humid summer day
she ventured to swim              in the East Sea
without a companion              in her private quest
and never returned                  to the palace of Yan Di

ever since the rebirth               she secured
of the foamy peak                   of a huge wave
Jing Wei has been                   fully engaged
in filling the vast                     and violent sea
with fresh twigs                      and stones
she collects and transports      from Mount West
one at a time                            with her lonely beak
although it seems                    simple but impossible

gua g: The Dangerous

out of nowhere                        out of everywhere
torrents of rain                                    all fall together
lakes overturn                          and rivers overflow
mountains collapse                  in muddy nightmares
as young and old fight                        against hunger
humans and animals duel        with plagues
the whole world seems           to be doomed
to perish                                  in a single fierce flood

to tame the rivers and watercourses
Guen steals a seed of xi soil from heaven
but long before he can accomplish his task
Guen is killed at Tian Di’s heavenly order
and his body thrown in the wildness
where it refuses to decay for three years
until a yellow dragon is begotten
leaping out of his belly cut widely open

Yu quickly grows                    to be Guen’s great son
for he never forgets                 his father’s behest
even though he has                 no magic xi soil
nor any help                            from high above heaven
he gulps down                         all the dark clouds
sucks up                                  all the torrential rains
chains every stream                 running mad
to free the land                        from the flood’s grips

gua h: The Wind

far beyond the vast east sea
Xi He gives birth to ten suns
playing happily in the heavens
like so many wantons who never stop
chasing one another unawares
their faces getting dirtier and dirtier
until summoned by their dear mother
bathing them in the depths of Sweet Pond

at an unseen moment of glaring sot
all the ten sons seem t turn wild
like mad fires sending out more heat than light
burning every green leaf in the field
when Hou Yi has to hold high
his red bow and white arrows
and shoot down the suns up to nine
leaving just one as Xi He’s only son

no one is sure                          what Kua Fu is up to
who never ceases                    seeking the traveling sun
in an endless                            and tireless chase
from his comfort home           near the Wei River
to the Yellow River flowing   down from heaven
whose water fails                    to quench his thirst
to the wasteland                      beyond the North Sea
where he means                       to stand to fall forever    

*As many literary scholars have noted, Chinese literature has no epic in the western sense of the term.  Considering this fact, my 'ballad of bagua: a mini epic' is not only highly experimental in form -- I used the most ancient Chinese folk form of 'bagua' or eight trigrams (in a slightly modified manner), but also very ambitious in content, for I tried to write the most ancient Chinese myths into a poetic narrative. To my best knowledge, this is the very first attempt in any language, since no poet has ever done so even in the Chinese language. 
Nine Detours of the Yellow River

you are unaware of your obscure sources
but you are explicitly sure of the vast sea
                        as your final destination

            you always frown with your brownish wrinkles
            but you prefer a nonprofessional smile on your face
                                                your only luggage of life

                        all your teeth have been lost or pulled out
                        but you keep licking the muddy banks with your heart
                                    despite your dreams forged

            your song is no more than a foam of silence
but you struggle hard to remain afloat on the sea of noise
                        beyond the borderline of heaven

your love for the loess plateau often overturns and overflows
            but you have never flooded the valley of the dragon's mind
                                                since confucius's times

            your course ahead is crowded with holes and crevices
                        but you will deliver your promises to every unevenness
                                    instead of promising the deliveries only

                        you occupy an enormously tiny place of the world
            but you feed all the hopes and wishes of those
                                                with thirsty mouths stranded ashore

            you flow down from the sky created by yourself
but you hope to avoid falling on the broken floor
                                                of your own church

you may be tortured or burned to steam
but you will eventually find your impossible way
                        to the sea of blue sky

The Confession of A Calendar
            it all began with an animal race Emperor Jade called to amuse himself and his earthly subjects...

yes, i admit betraying the cat as my only close friend
but i won the race, with my head rather than my legs

to honor my contract with the yellow sun
i eat green grass, yet give red meat to man

as the only feared king of the thick jungle
i am afraid and tired of my own timidness

with my cagey ears held so high
i will not miss a sound of peace

although my portraits hung lively above the clouds
no human eyes have ever seen my authentic being

the moment i sloughed off my old slim self
i forgot ever seducing any manhood in heaven

my body looks more masculine than a strong man
and my heart feels more feminine than a tender girl

when i bleat towards the passers-by
i never mean to speak in an other voice

each time i try to find any lice in the corner of my mind
i act like the humans outside the fence with barbed wire

with my wings plumed with the feathers of night
i can not fly but to crow loudly towards dawn

given my canine camaraderie and pack mentality
i feel at home before, among or behind soldiers

i spend all my lifetime wisely
to guard this single moment 

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