Here are some poems I wrote before.
They were first in Chinese, then translated into English.
The AI made the translations fit Western poetry style but
kept the original meaning.
The pictures that go with the poems were also made by AI.
Here are some poems I wrote before.
They were first in Chinese, then translated into English.
The AI made the translations fit Western poetry style but
kept the original meaning.
The pictures that go with the poems were also made by AI.
Monday at Four P.M., The Erupting Children
At the school gate on Monday, 4:00 P.M.
Numerous children burst forth with glee
Outside waiting, there they stand
Men and women, hand in hand
With children, they converse and chatter
Life speaks to life, a ceaseless banter
Far louder than a decade past
When silence reigned, yet peace did not last
In the throes of passion's peak
No words were shared, no voice to speak
Monday at Four P.M., The Erupting Children
At the school gate on Monday, 4:00 P.M.
Numerous children burst forth with glee
Outside waiting, there they stand
Men and women, hand in hand
With children, they converse and chatter
Life speaks to life, a ceaseless banter
Far louder than a decade past
When silence reigned, yet peace did not last
In the throes of passion's peak
No words were shared, no voice to speak
The Earthen Mound
Mother points to the tallest mound in sight
Her grandmother's resting place, a solemn rite
Untouched by the ridge that marks the field
With unburned wood from a life revealed
Stone stele, earth, dry grass, and sprouting seeds
Flames snuffed out where the world recedes
At the boundary of the field's embrace
A girl in red, with a tender grace
Counts days long past on a calendar's face
The Earthen Mound
Mother points to the tallest mound in sight
Her grandmother's resting place, a solemn rite
Untouched by the ridge that marks the field
With unburned wood from a life revealed
Stone stele, earth, dry grass, and sprouting seeds
Flames snuffed out where the world recedes
At the boundary of the field's embrace
A girl in red, with a tender grace
Counts days long past on a calendar's face
The Fisherman
A wave much larger comes to bear
His strength now wanes, too weak to care
Faint light upon the sea, so frail
Soon to be quenched by waves' assail
He ceases struggle, lets it be
Lies down in cabin, devoid of glee
Under dim light's fading glow
His face betrays a subtle throe
From the first time he went to sea
The youthful kiss his wife set free
The Fisherman
A wave much larger comes to bear
His strength now wanes, too weak to care
Faint light upon the sea, so frail
Soon to be quenched by waves' assail
He ceases struggle, lets it be
Lies down in cabin, devoid of glee
Under dim light's fading glow
His face betrays a subtle throe
From the first time he went to sea
The youthful kiss his wife set free
Potentialities
Should the rain fall just a touch more
The young man's betrothal would be deferred
Lost to the village, left unheard
If ceaseless rain would persist
The old man's conical hat would resist
And in serendipitous dreams, he'd persist
Were the mountain fog denser still
The cow would vanish into the hills
Transformed into a farmer, aging and worn
Destined never to be found or reborn
Fate's capricious constants abide
With time and rain, into the walls they hide
Not a single drop to spare, sealed inside
Potentialities
Should the rain fall just a touch more
The young man's betrothal would be deferred
Lost to the village, left unheard
If ceaseless rain would persist
The old man's conical hat would resist
And in serendipitous dreams, he'd persist
Were the mountain fog denser still
The cow would vanish into the hills
Transformed into a farmer, aging and worn
Destined never to be found or reborn
Fate's capricious constants abide
With time and rain, into the walls they hide
Not a single drop to spare, sealed inside