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Posts tagged ‘culture’

A pot of tea

A pot of tea

a curl of soaring fragrance

green freshness reproduced

emanating a flavor like mist

a breath like the broadness

of waves

softness of tea

high-spirited and refreshing

bitterness of tea

cleanses the soul

refines the mood

tea is a purifying agent

it purifies the dust of heart

tea is refreshment

it moistens wisdom

tea soaked in hot water

a taste of ordinariness and greatness

the soul of tea

is a kind of aftertaste

naturalness and light-heartedness.

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A silent night

The chime of bell carries

mundanity

demanding

the night sky be woken up

layers of snow

eddying

reveling children raising

a bouquet of bright light

sharing the stars

white moonlight

golden blessings

there’s no race

no barriers

tonight

the world is shrouded in clear crystal

farawayness is not a distance

anymore.

Merry Christmas

Happy Holidays

Happy New Year.

Sakuracha

Sword in the shealth

sakura in the wind

tea in the cup

it’s most noble when

a sword is shealthed

its most beautiful when

cherry blossoms fall

it’s most heady when

tea leaves are out of the soup

me in the past didn’t know how

to cherish every drop

of yesterday

when cherry blossoms fall

we realize a sword can’t cut sorrow

and tea can’t wash away

melancholy

when the wind rises

cherry blossoms dissolve

into the sea of thoughts

and turn into a touch of

bitterness

and sweetness

once upon a time

sword sakura and tea

were three poems hard to mention

now let’s just

let’s put down this blade

and drink this cold tea

beneath this lamp

like the soul of sakura

destined to return

to the ground.

Mid-autumn festival

Tonight
is the hope and prayer
of the year
a hope
from generation to generation
tonight
it carries many many myths
and legends
tonight
will forever be
in the hearts of
dreamers
12 cycles
12 waxes and wanes
for once
you have come full circle
the bright moonlight
like holy water sprinkled
every heart lights up
immersed in such a night
everything flashing
tonight
hope and harvest coexist
tonight
a full moon in the sky
round round moon cakes
nourish the heart
every smile is
sweet
because tonight
we harvest the ripe success
and sow a new round
round
hope.

Lonely city

Heavy rain
the city is drenched
the soggy city
walking like lost soul
with nowhere to go
night sky
no stars of childhood
roadside
threads of light flashing
the air
filled with sour smell of
rotting foods
all of this
is life
lonely souls
trapped
in the steel and concrete cage
decaying
in lights and wines.

Porcelain

The glaze of jade
a genteel gracious form
boundless majestic charm
many are more than willing
to have such
beauty
a prerequisite for becoming
a porcelain
is to break itself
and become tiny
clay
stirred in the furnace
added with various additives
then rotated violently
a fragmented world
an experience of the toughest
baptism
and it’s still
just mud and clay
to be modeled and shaped
to enjoy the beauty of
the expression of fantasy
vase wineware and censer
practical ornamental ritual
to be created a different self
fifteen hundred degrees of temperature
a hundred and sixty eight hours of
closure
lightlessness
where the mind is like a stopped
timepiece
where stars seem dejected
and escaping
when the door of the kiln
opened
after days of losing hope
it has been
converted into
porcelain
cheering with pride
looking up and down
unable to believe all this
during the sudden cooling
the mind releases
thousands of breathtaking
gorgeousness
the journey of metamorphosis
the discovery
that it’s not clay
anymore
however the mental state
remains the changing clay
that needs
various pigments
methods
styling
and paintbrushes
without a noble soul
it’d still be
just clay
a porcelain in display
warm moist patina
refined elegant style
beautiful powerful painting
worthy of
collection.

Le Parfum

Pellucid liquid
pixies of poetry
romping
the flowing life
injected into
the awakening
living water
free of sounds
clasping
colors, shapes and fragrance
on the special counter
of collectibles
in a boutique
on the lovely street of
the end of the century
the projection of France
the ripples of la Seine
nothing too literal
like the wonderment of Baudelaire
day or night
in the eastern district
the uncanniest flower of
the end of the century blooming
at all times.

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