Poems Craig gets, but us women don’t
Most evenings, I have been sitting in the living room, working on my laptop. Craig is in and out between the wood stove and the workshop. Karen has been knitting and reading from books such as Zippy. When Karen reads the memoirs of Zippy aloud, we laugh almost as much as her. Tea is the drink of choice, unless wine has just been served with dinner.
Half of the time, Vincent joins us. The other half of the time he is either preparing asian food in the kitchen or watching a movie he dislikes. Vincent watches movies downstairs in short segments - 20 minutes, break for tea, 20 minutes, break for talking upstairs, 20 minute return to the movie. If you went by what Vincent said, all of the movies he has been watching through Netficks are bad and he is a poor cook. If you go by trying some of his food, you would realize that you are in the presence of a gormet. His movies . . . remain to be seen.
Logical, Vincent is not. Mathematical, he is. This Thursday evening, Vincent was reading a 60's Chinese book of poetry. He would not read the poetry to me: I have insulted his precious Under the Tuscan Sun and disagree about one's ability to define love. He would not read it to Karen: she likes one of the same movies as I, would thus have all of my same tastes and would most assuradly dislike all of Vincent's tastes. But, he would read to Craig: Craig would understand, Craig always understands.
While I attempted to type up geometry lesson plans for the following day, Vincent began.
The 4 seasons could be arranged very plain
If the sun went away
Life could be arranged very lonely
If love were sparse
I could never appear again
If that’s your wish
1968 Chinese Shi Mu Lo
translated by housemate Vincent
interpreted through Joyce’s ears
“This is a good one” Vincent says as his eyes switch to another poem written vertically.
How do I let you see me
The time I was the most beautiful
For this moment
I have prayed to God, you know, over 500 years now
I pray we can get together
So God, make me become a tree
This tree is growing right next to the tree you pass by every day
Every single flower on the tree was my wish from my last life
“So now you are the tree waiting for your lover on the side of the road” Vincent breaks in
When you are walking closer, listen very carefully
The tremblinig leaf is your burning desire
But when you finally pass by, you do not even notice
After you left, you know, she said all the, uh, flower, uh
Coming down, falling off the tree, you know?
Are the many broken pieces of my heart
1968 Chinese Shi Mu Lo
translated by housemate Vincent
interpreted through Joyce’s ears
Half of the time, Vincent joins us. The other half of the time he is either preparing asian food in the kitchen or watching a movie he dislikes. Vincent watches movies downstairs in short segments - 20 minutes, break for tea, 20 minutes, break for talking upstairs, 20 minute return to the movie. If you went by what Vincent said, all of the movies he has been watching through Netficks are bad and he is a poor cook. If you go by trying some of his food, you would realize that you are in the presence of a gormet. His movies . . . remain to be seen.
Logical, Vincent is not. Mathematical, he is. This Thursday evening, Vincent was reading a 60's Chinese book of poetry. He would not read the poetry to me: I have insulted his precious Under the Tuscan Sun and disagree about one's ability to define love. He would not read it to Karen: she likes one of the same movies as I, would thus have all of my same tastes and would most assuradly dislike all of Vincent's tastes. But, he would read to Craig: Craig would understand, Craig always understands.
While I attempted to type up geometry lesson plans for the following day, Vincent began.
The 4 seasons could be arranged very plain
If the sun went away
Life could be arranged very lonely
If love were sparse
I could never appear again
If that’s your wish
1968 Chinese Shi Mu Lo
translated by housemate Vincent
interpreted through Joyce’s ears
“This is a good one” Vincent says as his eyes switch to another poem written vertically.
How do I let you see me
The time I was the most beautiful
For this moment
I have prayed to God, you know, over 500 years now
I pray we can get together
So God, make me become a tree
This tree is growing right next to the tree you pass by every day
Every single flower on the tree was my wish from my last life
“So now you are the tree waiting for your lover on the side of the road” Vincent breaks in
When you are walking closer, listen very carefully
The tremblinig leaf is your burning desire
But when you finally pass by, you do not even notice
After you left, you know, she said all the, uh, flower, uh
Coming down, falling off the tree, you know?
Are the many broken pieces of my heart
1968 Chinese Shi Mu Lo
translated by housemate Vincent
interpreted through Joyce’s ears
posted by Joyce White at
5:39 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home