Selected poems of Hong Xing
Tomorrow’s Flowers are
Complicated
Someone is stirring the seawater.
Bubbles levitate and fracture,
The wild, astute man spends his day
Earning permission from a cat.
Finally, they can indulge in the flowers.
May we sit down
and rethink our misconceptions of summer:
Is the coolness within the shades
A gift or coincidence?
Because tomorrow's flowers are complicated.
The wait of homage is understandable,
when they force each other more and more,
“Here, finish this plate all in one go.”
Our surroundings exchange peace,
Piecing together the segments of better times.
Under beams of the sun,
Everything radiates.
Unknowing of when,
People have grown to yearn for the sculpting of time.
The past and future silence the unspoken confusion.
Thus,
Tomorrow's flowers
are complicated.
A Finite Sea
A detached manifestation forebodes life’s understanding of its end.
People put together, then take apart,
assemble simpler things, abandon dilemmas,
but assumptions won’t arrive.
The air, trembling at its last breath;
the vase and water share a last kiss, a final embrace,
fuse yesterday and the past into memory.
Manbegins to appreciate the tides.
That which is used as point of view is exploited incessantly.
In hesitation, what has been buried is dug up anew.
Some sentences are uttered,
some pasts forgotten.
That which is mentioned repeatedly becomes arms.
Delusion sustains the seagull’s flight
and will someday merit anticipation.
Indeed, man desires the pleasure of being devoured.
Why is there such charm in quiet breathing?
Same as the footsteps on the beach.
The argument and the answer
never arrive in tandem.