If I forget your name? Never

I too feel fascinated by some names, especially the names of shops or brands. Here are some Names which I found a year ago in my last visit to a shopping mall in CA. Shops are named: Pink in Life, The Picture People, Walking Company. I particularly like the idea of a shop named “Things Remembered”. We all have things we do not forget. There was an old song titled, “Don’t forget to remember”. Love is something hard to forget. Humans are by nature remembering creatures. The older we get the more we have accumulated things we like to remember in our memories, some vivid, some vague. Some real and some imagined. Some with sad endings, some good. I stumbled on a Tv program that helped long separated old friends to find each other after decades. Quite touching stories emerged. When I grow old enough perhaps I too write a letter to the long lost one and ask for an appointment with a poem.

If You Forget Me by Pablo Neruda

If You Forget Me

I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.
Pablo Neruda

Listen to a reading of the beautiful poem at the following link:
https://youtu.be/hWI9J5HFRfI

Notes about the shop: Things Remembered began over 40 years ago as a small engraving and services shop called “Can Do”. And today, Things Remembered has grown into the nation’s leading, and most successful, retailer of personalized gifts. (online information quoted)

another shore beyond

new-horizonNew Horizon Of course this horizon is familiar to many. It is at the Monterey Bay Aquarium. I took this picture outside looking at the blue beyond. There were few visitors outside that day at that time. One friendly oriental couple with a young child were around taking photos like me. It was a sunny day. I was alone. The others had gone somewhere else as they had visited this place before. I saw some gulls. A sailing boat at the distant horizon. I decided to present this blue horizon with hope. At the same time I also add a sunset horizon at the coast of San Francisco.

Meng Haoran 孟浩然, a Chinese poet who lived from AD689 or 691 to AD740, wrote a poem about the horizon. I quote below the poem and my attempted translation.
早寒有懷
木落雁南渡,
北風江上寒.
我家襄水曲,
遙隔楚雲端.
鄉淚客中盡,
孤帆天際看.
迷津欲有問,
平海夕漫漫.

My translation below~~~~
“The Winter comes too early to my heart”
Amidst falling leaves the geese fly south
over water chilled by a cold wind north
my distant home is up this river bend
in the Chu mountain’s cloud it hides
as my journey ends some tears are shed
Folks at home are yearning for this lone horizon sail
for I seem to have lost my way, my quest
while the sea remains as calm as the vast night veil

another-shore-beyond

define muse: a haiku

Muse
20160123_133542Neither you nor I
musing poets to define
sky water divide
I took this picture last January in Reno. The sun, the cloud, the water and the grass were in quite a spectacular harmonious formation. Narrow and yet broad in the limitation of my phone camera. Quite a poetic inspiring place. My hair turned to gold in some pictures. I did this little haiku only when I look at the pictures now and recall the solitary moment without adequate words to describe then.
Narrow

he knows her heart can melt snow: a haiku (and a prose)

a snowing mountain scene

a snowing mountain scene

depth and height of love
beyond his comprehension
life long wild passion ~~~~~~~~~~
One thing she does well. She makes him think of his life. Is he really living the life of the greatness he is meant to become? Night after night he wakes and asks himself. The boss sums up a physical/material perspective, “You have come this far, don’t throw it away. None of us will be there to help you if you fail.” The glitter, the popularity, the high living, the nearness to the highest society ever in human race, the social and financial rewards, the admiration and praises, the power, all. So familiar and so much a part of him after ten years of pouring out himself into a profession at a time of many changes and practically with the right people with power and wealth crashing gates to become part of his world. The boss remarked with frustrations (and obsession with opera), “Don’t go and marry the princess Turandot.” (In a legendary time, at the square in front of the Forbidden City in Beijing, China, the Princess, Turandot, is a woman of great beauty, but has a cold heart that is as cold as ice. She said, “Any prince seeking to marry me must answer three riddles. But if he fails, he will have to die.” This opera is the last opera by Giacomo Puccini.) How little does the boss in his ivory money-making tower know the depth, width, breadth and height of true love which can never be bought with cash. He has thrown away his own golden years since graduating with an Economics degree and later a Master of Science. Others call him a “golden boy”. It means he has the Midas touch. Their convention is no ordinary convention. It generates significant monetary income for all who participate as many successful spectacular business dealings happen in their midst. Suppliers and consumers alike. At 31 he has reached the peak of global corporate success. The first time they met she came with her dad and grandad. he was 21 and fresh from university. She was a precocious child of 11. Her folks were not part of the convention. They stayed in the same golden city but in a posher and more exclusive area. They had their private golden beach. He trespassed without knowing. This stretch of the beach was beautiful and deserted. He congratulated himself for having the good sense of looking beyond what everyone else looked. The bustling convention tired him and he needed a rest by himself. While he removed his tie and unbuttoned his Armani dress-shirt, he heard this loud “ahem’ behind him. He turned and saw her, a real-life princess, and yet there is  something about her like a celestial being, out of this world. He turned red. (to be continued)

forgetting is so long: a haiku (and a prose)

never let me gomillions memories

locked in time and space stories

this shore and that shore

~~~~(Concerning your recent thoughts of our past.) I HAVE BEEN THINKING LATELY TOO. Our past. Because there are too many memories. After all we have accumulated 23 years (8395 days, 201480 hours, 12,088,800 minutes, 725,328,000,000 seconds) of being together. I think of the time that had passed. I think of our marriage life together. I would consider our life a good life. We were very close, like the best of friends and much much closer. When I think of the sands running out in the hour-glass of time, I wonder why I never managed to grab them and refuse to let go. I admit I am a mortal. There are things I cannot change. When I was very young, in school, I read a novel titled, “The Foolish Immortals”.  I was drawn to the title. Only fools try to become immortal. I know there are impossibilities in human lives. We cannot change certain natural pre-arrangements. We trust science but we know whatever changes we perform down here are not changed in the spiritual realm. There is a fixed registry there for each mortal. Even marriage. Even love between two individuals. The span, the length, the breadth, the depth, the height. 725.3million seconds is not a short time. But it is too short for me. Far too short. I cannot retract each second much as I want to. Instead of going back to the future I would want to have a vehicle that will bring me back to the past, yes, way past, to before I was even born. I want to ask the Creator to give me a different registry. I would beg for a change in my life history. I would not let go until He says yes. If only I have that miraculous vehicle to go back. I would live differently, still with you, my love, but much much differently. I would not need to let go. Never. Like Pablo Neruda’s poem, “Love is so short, forgetting is so long.”

Excerpts from a poem by Pablo Neruda: Tonight I can write the saddest lines. 

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
…She loved me sometimes, and I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes

…Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her….
My sight searches for her as though to go to her.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.
…Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

cross another ocean of loss: a haiku (and prose)

 

Pacific ocean sunset

an ocean of loss

one day he arrives

another ocean’s sunset

might as well cross it

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~today he knows the extent of his grief. He now knows the length and width and depth of his sense of loss. The ocean of loss.
He is just testing a new mop to see if it functions as claimed like a prized possession. After cleaning a corner of the tiled floor he thinks he might as well clean the whole kitchen. After cleaning the kitchen he thinks he might as well clean the whole sitting room. After that he thinks he might as well clean the guest room and the store at the back. After that he looks at the staircase and thinks he might as well clean it too. when he reaches the top of the stairs he cleans the first floor hall, the master room, another guest room and so on. He ends up cleaning the whole house except one guest room because it is locked. He has spent about eleven hours mopping, breaking all time record. What is a writer doing wielding a mop (brand new it may be)? Nothing can be more incongruous. He should have been wielding a pen. Then he remembers a scene of Forrest Gump running from ocean to ocean for no particular reason. But unlike Forrest, in his case, he cannot turn back. Since he has run this far, at this land end, he might as well cross it.

Here is the quote from the movie: The context is when Forrest Gump found out that Jenny (his lifelong love) did not want to marry him and had chosen to leave him. He woke up one morning and found that she had left him.

Forrest Gump:
That day, for no particular reason, I decided to go for a little run. So I ran to the end of the road. And when I got there, I thought maybe I’d run to the end of town. And when I got there, I thought maybe I’d just run across Greenbow County. And I figured, since I run this far, maybe I’d just run across the great state of Alabama. And that’s what I did. I ran clear across Alabama. For no particular reason I just kept on going. I ran clear to the ocean. And when I got there, I figured, since I’d gone this far, I might as well turn around, just keep on going. When I got to another ocean, I figured, since I’d gone this far, I might as well just turn back, keep right on going.