In the sunshine of May I think of my father
Of his teeth wasting away day by day
And his fingers yellowed by tobacco.
I think of father's wig that makes him look years younger
Father's cloth shoes, that soon wear through to his toes

I think of father, like thinking of an old packhorse
Overwork is running him to earth, the wrinkles of earth
Have been hanging on father's branch-tips for a long time
I think of father not speaking much at home
His silent trouser-cuffs callused by daily life
Father's smell is the smell of tobacco
I think of father, once a leader of stallions
When young he stormed battlefronts and shot basketballs
Gunpowder smoke from beneath his feet
Dizzied the brightest beauties of a garden
Away from home, father lived more like a man

I think of father after forty
At the head of seagulls flying in the formation of ÈË [ren]
(Which means ¡°human being¡±)
Carrying with him a faint tang of ocean
Safely piloting the steamer ¡°S.S.Dream¡± out of port
It was father's stomach pain that shortened Seagull's path back to its nest
I think of my father's daughter
Like an oyster on frothy rocks when the tide ebbs
Nursing her pearl-like aloofness

I think of father married to an unsuitable woman
Enduring a hornet's nest of noise
Raising me and Little Brother, the look in his eyes growing murky
Caring for our ailing resentful mother
When will father's trials be over?
I think of all the promises thrown aside by time
Plants in the garden all grown into autumn
I think of father's stifling marriage
That he ruminated like moldy hay
Never quite spitting it out like phlegm

When I think of my father, I think of myself
I wish father didn't have to live such a life

4/29/04

Translated by Denis Mair