Blossom

blossom

A youthful smile

A hidden love

An uncommenced life

A heart ready to burn

Zou Difan

Translation mine

The Colours

colours

My life was a worthless white sheet
The green has made me rise up high,
The red – made me catch fire.
The yellow has taught me equality and justice
The blue taught me purity,
The pink gave me hope,
The grey brought me melancholy.
And to finish with this watercolour
The black has made me face death.
From that moment on,
I love life like no one else,
Because I love its lively colours.

Wen  Yiduo

Translation mine


Sadness

I will say it’s the melancholy of silent autumn,

Or the nostalgia of far-away seas,

I will not be able to utter your name

If they wish to know my sadness.

Should they want to stir my sorrow,

I will not say your name,

I’ll tell them I regret the remore seas,

Or the melancholy of silent autumn.

Dai  Wangshu

Translation  mine

To Myself

The moon has flooded the shades of the night,

The plane-tree leaves have sad faces,

I sit in wait and listen:

The days of the fall are coming.

The tree has grown so thin,

Do you think I have

Pulled out its leaves?

Li  Jinfa

Translation mine

Missing …

I miss you. I miss you till beyond the universe, but I miss much more what I am, what I was a second ago, what you were.

no, don’t think that a kid’s words are rain drops brought by the first gust of wind, dried by the first ray of sun. You are wondering, full of yourself: what do I know?

you’d better ask: what do YOU know? does time bring, or take? is inheritance received, or given? who was first? you, or me?

my life is a rainbow with thin shades of ice and fire. what about yours? is there any flame left flickering in it? are there any tiny butterflies left from above the sky? I often wonder: are you still a human being? what makes you consider yourself as being one? maybe I haven’t entirely understood the meaning of this term; but you, wiser than me, can you explain to yourself what being a man means?

I know, the present seems perfect to us…both…I’m not saying you should be like me…don’t say it’s better the way you are than how I am, because it only SEEMS to be like that.

do you LIVE? what makes you believe that?

are you sleeping? no problem! the postman will leave the letter in the mailbox. but don’t ever forget that every night ends with a morning; and if you don’t wake up in the morning, you will at noon! don’t tell me that you won’t wake upno matter how brightly the sun will shine upon you, with its golden rays. I trust you, even if I can’t see you very well, as the fog of time is much too thick on the road left to be covered. we are raising it. we are making it fade away by following our own road. that is exactly why you can see me a lot more material.

do you see me? I’m the one at the horizon, waving at you and wishing you that the sun may flow all along the riverbed you’re passing through.

I hope you won’t forget me. but you’d better forget me than forget yourself.

so, do NOT forget about you.

a friend, maybe your best one.

PS: I’ll take care of you. You take care of yourself, too!

FROM: “The letter of a 14-year-old kid to his future self, through the most punctual mail service: time”, by Alexandru Dan-Alexandru

Translation mine

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