I write fiction, short stories, and poems. Here is selected work.
The Tragedy of Nathaniel Darewell (Novella)
Abyss
I join hands with scholars,
whose hands warm with passion,
yet lukewarm towards what they truly desire.
Time has passed.
The snow mountains from afar are concave,
So uniformly as if nature is warring with God
Where the peaks try to break the thick sky.
The mountains, like moons,
Hanging between the stars made of water.
They grow.
The mountains grow.
Yet that is all we could see,
for beyond the mountains is unknown.
We climb the mountains and gaze at the abyss
From left and right, the fog blinds us
from seeing who else reached their hands at the forefront
to grasp the unknown, to understand and control,
a realm God has never touched.
We reached our hands into the darkness
Knowing nothing about what dwells within.
And so we step forth and slowly lose track of time
And the form of our mortal bodies.
We are swallowed by chaos, entropy.
As the abyss gazes back at us,
We keep our eyes half open
In hope that our venture yields something fruitful for humanity.
Nothing more, nothing less.
我越苍穹
远记昔日信心充盈，
入暗地，无畏行。
雷鸣中我身姿徘徊，
多年后，重浮现。
悔时已晚，
年华早虚度，平静早扼死。
任由词藻左右我，
放纵谬误焚烧我。
如今只余残迹，
我踏岸边凝望自己之墓，
问己曾经屡自灭，
造就今日我。
方向茫，热情朽，
魂自形，静浮行。
每张面孔我皆瞩目，
每句言辞耳熟悉闻，
触摸云霄踏大地坎，
晓天下，何处去？
天必亡，我必亡。
残阳终将黯淡，
熄前留何遗痕？
凝视苍穹，思绪翱翔。
往昔故人以天为名，
今日流传传我其中......
左义夫。
夫一撇破天。
A Parakeet's Letter
When I was young, my breath would softly sigh
How weak is my pounding heart,
I long to soar, to spread my wings and fly.
I then grew up, I no longer complied,
I soar around the boy, and on his shoulder I land, depart,
But eventually, my breath would softly sigh.
One day, my wings grew weak, I knew not why.
The boy embraced my cold, despairing heart
I yearn to prove my youth, and yet I can only yearn, for I can no longer fly.
Did I forget to feed, to water? He cries.
No, friend, not once did I thirst or starve,
It's my tired lung, from which my breath sighs.
You will lose me and I will lose you, thus is life.
For you, fate is still afar.
For me, I will rest, before I fly.
Let me close my eyes,
And venture beyond your cabin, oh wooden heart—
See me glide through the trees, beyond the starry sky!
Let me go, let me fly.
Ginkgo
Among the sea of leaves,
There stands a Ginkgo tree.
One lobe, lush and green,
Quaffing moist rain,
Breathing beams of Sun.
The other lobe, barren and yellow,
Crinkling under age's yoke,
Drained of youthful gifts.
Half of the lobe slowly hardens
The other half verdantly grows,
It stretches far and high,
Resisting death.
Downtown Dallas
I wander inside a hollow city
Wrap in a stifling suit under the scorching Sun.
Sparse grass barely cradles the sidewalk trees
Streets echo empty. Cars glide soundlessly.
Turning a corner, I find another scene,
A huddle of quiet, dying figures
Drunk and drowsy, their vitality depletes.
Steering clear of their vacant gazes
I move through swiftly.
From the shadow,
A girl–
Black, barefoot, hand extends out to daylight.
I turn to see her unblemished palm
Almost touching mine.
Should I hold her,
To take her out of the shadow?
A moment of doubt
But it lasts too long
Long enough for them to drag her back
To shadow's deep,
Where spirits sleep.