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Thank you
I was planning to
Read the poem I prepared for you
At five thirty-five the time the moon rises
It seems that we had passed the time
But I think the moon is rising now
Then I shall read this poem at the time of moon rise
the time when the moon is most beautiful and fullest
In the year
I shall read this poem to you
At the time of moon rise
I be the Rhododendrons that cover the mountains
Just for a spring of no regret
I be the stars
Offered to a summer night
I be the numerous rivers
Flowing toward the one and only ocean
I be the moon
once again illuminated, for you
If you are the island
I be the ocean that embraces you
If you set sail
I be the breezing waves
If you go on a voyage
I be the road
Arranged with smoothness
Follow you to afar
When you are tired from walking
I be the night
The lodging on the side of the road
With clean bed sheets
For you to sleep on
There are dreams in your sleep
I be the tear stain on your pillow
I be the arm that you grab on
even your hair turned grey
I be the furnace fire by your foot
Converse the memories of old age with you
You are laughter
I am the song that echos
You are tears
I am the starlight that follows
When you are buried
I be the grass that accompanies you
you turned ashes
I be the dust
If, if only you still feel attached to this life
I pray another wish
To be with you in the next life
This is a poem
That should be read at the time of moon rise
Once at a full moon night at Tidaan on the East coast
I read this poem with several students
I don’t know why
I love reading and writing poems since I was young
But until today
Including just now
When I read poems
I still feel a kind of guilt
I think that guilt is
I don’t know what role poetry plays in this world
If there is war everywhere
If there is famine everywhere
If there is hate and murder between people everywhere
Then what could a poem save
I keep doubting what I do
When I knew that I had 18 minutes
To share the night of mid-autumn festival with some friends
I was wondering could people save 18 minutes
From a day of 24 hours for one poem
Then I thought it might still be a lavish
If I tell a friend in the work place who is busy all the time
To save 18 minutes for a poem everyday
I think he or she will still protest
So I concede
perhaps poetry is always conceding
Because it is unable to fight against anything
In the real world
So it concedes
So my compromise is that
Could we save 18 minutes for one poem
In an year of 365 days
And then I thought I concede again
Could it be 18 minutes for one poem
In a life time
Merely 18 minutes
But I think that’s enough
If you remember in that 18 minutes
You once saw in a spring
mountains devoured by the redness of Rhododendrons
I used to go there with my students often
it started in March or even February
The Rhododendrons of Yangmingshan
The whole mountain is red
There is another place that is very beautiful during May
The north face of Hehuanshan
It has Rhododendron rubropilosum Hayata
You can see the red mountain ridge
for several hundred meters long
My students often use lines
that I could never thought of to describe
He said, wow
The mountain is spitting blood
I couldn’t write something like that
I think the sentence is awesome
I believe there must be something in life
That could make him live with no regret
It is something like that which is crumbling and bleeding
There is an ancient story called The Cry of The Cuckoo
There was a lingering ghost of an emperor
it turns into a cuckoo bird
And it keeps on crying and crying
In the end the bird spat out blood
and dyed all the white flowers red
This is the story of the origin of Rhododendron
I always remember the spring Rhododendron
I witnessed several times on this island
I also once witnessed numerous rivers flowing downward
From the high point of this island
I lived in Dalongdong when I was young
It is on the shore of Tamsui River
We used to play in the Tamsui
But I knew along Tamsui
there is Dadaocheng above Dalongdong
Monga and Wanhua above Dadaocheng
Xindian Creek above Monga
And Beishi River above Xindian Creek
From the upper course going downwards
The river flows through a city
Now I live at its estuary at Bali
As if my life had come to the lower course too
But I think one’s life at the estuary
Has its own breadth
A river flows downward from a trickling creek
Passing Beishi River, Xindian Creek, Monga,
Dadaochen, Dalongdong and Shezi until the ocean
I believe the river has its own memory
So in the poem I read to you
There could be a Rhododendron bloomed in spring
Bloomed with no regret
Once there were numerous rivers
that flowed toward the one and only ocean
Once on Jibei Island of Penghu
The sands on the beach of Jibei is all white
Sands from eroded shells
On a night of full moon
When the moon is low
before dawn
When it’s almost dawn
All the stars shine in the sky
The student will grab you and yell
He didn’t talk about spitting blood this time
He couldn’t find any words
So he wept
I like seeing students weep
Because I believe they saw poetry
They will remember there were 18 minutes in their lives
Maybe it’s on the north face of Hehuanshan
Maybe it’s at the beach of Jibei
similarly
900 years ago there was a poet at this night wrote
When will the moon be clear and bright?
I asked the sky with a cup of wine in hand
Wonder what year it is in the palaces of heaven tonight
He is asking the moon
He wants to return to his home in heaven
We are too familiar with Su Dongpo’s Shui Diao Ge Tou
In the last part of the poem he says
There are different phases of moon
As there are different emotions of life
When I read this in high school textbook
Suddenly I realize
If a culture, a nation desires completeness so strongly
On 15th of January of the lunar calendar
is Yuanxiao Festival, Shangyuan Festival
The desire of roundness
On 15th of July there is the mid-summer ghost festival
You release water lanterns
To summon the stray spirits back
To share the warmth of the human world