[编者注：按农历国内今天是腊八节，适逢母亲大人八十大寿，兹将其新近完成的口述回忆录张贴如下。在匆匆的编辑、修订过程中，作为人子我常常感佩她老人家思路清晰逻辑性较强，内容或记忆力详细准确，篇章结构严谨，叙述时大多出口成章，文字生动精炼。对有些读者而言，其中也许蕴含了太多的“党文化”内容，所用的语言也太过“革命化，”但正是这两大特色准确地反映了一个时代、一辈人及一位女性的真实经历。为了原汁原味地保存其历史传承价值，我在文字上尽可能地避免了改动；为了在抗疫期间向她老人家遥表生日祝贺，我特在此望洋高呼: 谨祝我敬爱的母亲大人安顺静好、幸福喜乐、健康长寿！妈妈，您是我们老袁家第一个活过八十的直系亲人，祈望您抖擞精神、先争取活到一百周岁！！]
[编者注-2：按家乡湖北松滋的习俗，年前要给活人辞年，给亡者上坟。今值亡父辞世九周年零20天之际，特将母亲口述回忆录的第十章单独贴发如下，这张是根据我的建议增写的，意在替他老人家留下文字记载。自老父离开我们，每每想到他我都哽噎难过，有时甚至老泪直滴。我写过二十余篇英文原创诗，大多已经发表，近年还有一首“清明节：写给袁宏启”已被翻译成西班牙文，现又被加华作协主编的《信念》诗文集选录，不日在温哥华出版。为纪念亡父，我在妈妈的回忆录后贴发我自己献给我父亲的英文诗，并在此仰天长问：爸爸，您在天国还好吧？！]
平凡人生，平凡故事
——刘瑜口述 (十) 夫君 为怀念夫君，这里就他人生旅程中的过往简單地讲哈。首先把他在松滋农行工作的老部下镇起兰同志所著《书香伴夕阳》一書中对老伴所作的怀念诗词介绍如下:题目是“愐怀袁宏启行長”，内容是“为金融事业，为革命工作，满腔热忱，鞠躬尽瘁。有公仆品格，有松柏气概，高风亮节，万古流芳。(注:袁宏启行长在松滋人行和农行任职期间，受到全市金融职工愛戴和敬重，谨以此诗表示沉痛哀悼。)” 我和夫君从相遇到永别，共同生活了半个多世纪，他的人生绚丽多彩，故亊不少。忆往亊，历历在目，怀故人，倍加思念。他四十三年耕耘路，七十八载奉献歌，一生正气，艰苦朴素，勤勤恳恳，大愛无私，以诚待人，热心助人，兢兢业业，无私奉献等等精神都值得我和子孫们永远学习和继承。 他小时有一个有趣的乳名:那是1934年的冬月十五日子时，他早产七个月就出生了，时逢他父亲病入膏荒，听见他匆忙降世大喜过望，觉得像是为他而來，顿时爬起来跪在床上向天朝拜，感谢上苍在他“临走”之际给他送來了儿子(己有两个女儿即袁彩云、袁喜云)，欢喜之际，给他取名为“得宝”！五天之后他父就离开人世了。 他还有一个不吃鹅蛋鹅肉的故亊。据他告诉我，在他父亲去世后，他们一家四口人，孤儿寡母，倍受族人的欺负，在他满月不久，有人想把他偷抱出去丢弃，然后把他母亲和姐姐赶走，再强佔他家的房子(土墙瓦屋)和田产(大约四亩水旱田)，他母亲和姐姐养了一只大白鹅，在他被人偷抱时，那只鹅就嘎嘎大叫…因此才没被偷走，后來他母亲和姐姐都去下地干农活，只好把他放在摇床里，那只鹅就把头搁在摇床上；每天晚上母亲把他放在床上，和姐姐一道做纺纱织布的活，鹅又把头搁在床檐上。他的哺乳期就是这样由鹅看护着他的。由于他母亲、姐姐勤扒苦做养育着他成长，使欺负他家的族人无从下手，霸佔之亊终未得成。 所以他母亲从小教导他终身不吃、不殺鹅类。我们成家后听了他这个故亊，我俩就告戒孩子们，凡袁宏启的子孫后代永不食鹅、殺鹅！ 年轻时，他曾是一个考取特种兵而未入伍的战士。听他说，1953年他在松滋花纱布公司工作時，他报名参军，并录取为特种兵，单位举办了欢送会，给他佩带了光榮花，他自已己把出发前的有关事宜都处理安排了，比如把能用的東西都送给了朋友和同亊，把未曾用的被面等寄给他姐姐作纪念，把小時定的娃娃亲也退了，觉得自已孤生一人再也没有什么牵挂，参军后，满可以把生命置之度外，只要党需要随時准备牺牲！但在正准备出发時，单位领导突然通知说接兵单位不让他去了，原因就因为他是独子又是孤儿，所以部队首长指示，让他留原單位工作，参加社会主义建设。 他曾订有娃娃亲。据他告诉我他小時侯由他母亲和他大舅父商定，把大舅父的大女儿李金枝许配给得宝，这个金枝稍比他大几个月，小時候两家就是以这种关系往來的。他们俩人自已都很清楚。但在他十三岁母亲去世后，大舅父一家在汉口城里靠做面条、发粑之类的小生意维持生活外，无法照顧他，任凭他独自一人远赴巴東投靠姨母李帮兰，既当学徒又帮助做家务照顾婊弟、妹。从此他和金枝断了联系，但金枝一直等看他，直到他决定从军時才写信给舅父取销了这门亲亊。这位金枝姐后來嫁人也有子女，因患乳腺癌，五十多岁就去逝了。 他的工作简历是这样的。1951年8月经荆州行署工商科批准参加工作并分配到松滋县花纱布公司任会计员，1953年经袁斌超介绍入团，1955年由方焕章、宋喜新介绍加入中国共产党成为党员。於1956年至1958年期间调入松滋县釆购局、供銷社、粮食局任会计股长。1958年至1965年在松滋县财贸部、组织部任干部干事。1965年至1971年在松滋县八宝区任区委秘书。1971年至1974年在松滋县电影管理站任副站长(在此期间被抽调出任枝榔铁路松滋兵团临时党委副書记、書记等职)。1974年至1978年在松滋县教育局任副局长。1978年至1981年在松滋县人民银行任副行长，其间人、农两行分家，继任农业银行副行长并主持全面工作。1981年至1986年调入荆州地区农业银行任计划科副科长、科长等职。1986年至1993年在荆州地区农业银行任工会办事处副主任、经济师等。1993年至退休任荆州地区农业银行调研员(副处级)。 值得一提的是，有一次他險些因公殉职。大约是在1968年至1970年期间建修松滋沙道观大桥期间，当时他担任副指挥，为了在汛期搶時澆灌桥柱，他站在船头指挥，由于洪水急流，大浪冲得小船直摇晃，他被晃掉进河里，一个旋窝将他捲走，正在这个紧要关头，同船的同亊胡超然同志跳下河抓住了他的头发将他救起來了。过了几天之后他才讲给我听，让我好几天都心慌腿軟。真是感谢上天保佑！感谢胡超然同志的救命之恩！(胡超然同志己离开人世。) 他是一个不怕苦、不怕累的铁汉子。大约是1978前后在教育局任副局长期间，他被县委抽调到松滋王家大湖蹲点(县委重点)，县委副書记周其政同志任组长，他任副组长，整个住队期间他与群众同吃同住同劳动，总是坚持捡重活、难活、脏活干，吃飯前、后又不停地帮助住户家干活，包括扫地、洗衣、清洗猪栏、挑水、澆肥等等，晚上又经常开会贯彻落实县委的各项指示精神，由此他感染了血吸虫病，但他坚持带病工作，我劝他请假治疗，他也不听，我向县委领导反映他的病情后，领导下令要他治病，他才答应倒松滋南海磨盘州血防站住院治疗，可是刚打玩2Ⅰ支锑剂针药就着急赶回去上班，医生说打玩针不能馬上出院，因为刚刚打了这样的针药，血管很脆，不休息一段时间，活动量稍大就会有生命危险，尽管如此，他也只休息了三天就回到王家大湖去了。 后來有一次又被狗咬伤，他也满不在意。回县里开会时，他在无意中对我提到这事，当我问他那条狗当时的情况时，他说那只狗像疯狗一样不知跑到哪里去了。我听了打了一个大张(很惊讶)并责备他说“你怎么这样搞不清白啊？疯狗咬了不及時医治就会得狂犬病的呀！”他还反对我说，“你少大惊小怪，哪有你说的那么嚇人子”。说完他又开会去了，散会后他直接返回王家大湖点上去工作。我最终没能说服他，只好又去找县委副書记尤让卿同志反映，尤書记很重视，当時就命我去王家大湖把他劝回來，并強调说这是县委的命令，要他一定回來到医院检查，并尽快注射狂犬疫苗。他就是这样全身心地朴在工作上的一个犟人。 类似的故亊还有很多，我就不一一叙述了。 再讲哈他生活朴素，勤檢节约。大概是1968年间，两个儿子想爸妈，从公安乡下莲花垱到八宝区委会來，到吃中飯的時侯，我在食堂端了飯菜在宿舍吃，用办公椅子当饭桌，云儿还小，吃东西時撒了些飯在椅子和地上，他很严历地要孩子把撒的飯捡起來吃，并教训道:不准浪费粮食，孩子被吓得哭起來了，没去捡飯，他便顺手搧了孩子一巴掌。因他本人是吃过苦的人，珍惜粮食來之不易，所以对孩子也是時時处处严格要求。他对自也蛮苛刻。有一年县劳动局从农村招矿工，乘这次机会我与公安县劳动局唐局长联系，托他帮忙把小妹刘啟芬招上來，唐局长答应后叫我把招工表填好送过去，当時我没有時间，就把表交给他，请他连夜送到莲花垱让启芬把表填好，他二话没说，接过表就走，事情办好后才听他说，步行三十多里路，为了愛惜鞋子，他竟然把鞋脱了是光着脚走回莲花垱的(当時穿的布鞋是大姐刘书烈一针一线帮忙做的)，我听了心疼极了…给他买衣服，稍贵一点，他硬是不穿，没办法只好哄他，比如很多年后买一件得体的棉袄花三百多块钱，对他说只花了一百多块钱；买短袖T恤衫花一百多只说是花十多块钱在地摊上买的；以前穿的短裤都是扯的布请人做的，退休后夏天很少上街，在家穿短裤的時候多，就给他买好一点的布料，偶然买成品裤二十八元一条，对他说只花了八元钱。如果原价告诉他，他不但不穿，还硬逼着我去退。单位发的工作服(西服)基本上全没穿过，之后都送给别人了。就是这样， 他对自已苛刻了一辈子。 在工作上他勤勤恳恳，任劳任怨。不管在哪个工作岗位上都做得很好。除完成本职工作任务外，凡办公室内外的清洁工作，比如擦办公桌椅及柜橱，还有打开水等等绝大多数日常工作都是他主动做的，有时与同事们一起出差，他还给同房间的同事准备洗嗽用品等，听他的同亊告诉我说，与袁科长出差，他对我们真好，弄得我们蛮不好意。 他一辈子无论从事哪项工作、无论在哪个地方工作都是扎扎实实、认认真真、精益求精。特别是在写材料期间，他经常通宵用工、徹夜不眠；担任会计工作时曾发明过一种财务报表，可以让各级的财务报表都能及時准确地上报。因此他曾得到过多次奖励。特别是1956年在松滋县釆购局任会计股长期间，他获得过湖北省人民政府颁发的省级劳动模范奖狀和勳章，退休后还享受了省级劳动模范补贴每月六十元。 1976至1978年间，他在松滋教育局任副局长时曾连续三年担任过县招生办公室主任，其间他与松滋县街河市中学的刘柯凯同志一道为地、县两级及各基层单位领导、各层干部以及城镇居民的下乡子弟(知青)做了大量的工作，真是以全心全意为人民服务的精神，认真落实文化大革命后政府要突出重点㧓好教育工作的一系列指示精神，废寝忘食，尽可能多的让有志青年重返学校。为了从省、地招生办多争取指标，他揹着被招青年的档案蹲在地区招办一个一个的落实去向。比如荆州地区某单位有位同志的孩子叫张风波，当时被下放到松滋八宝某大队，1976年招生时，他挎着一个解放军用的小黄挎包到我家来找他，碰巧他当时不在家，是由我接待的。张风波向我讲明了他的來意，说自己非常想上大学，我答应一定帮他转告，要他回大队等着。等宏启到家后，我把这个孩子的要求告诉他，说这个孩子看起來很不错，长相身材、语言谈吐都蛮叫人喜欢，与我们的大儿子同年，是一棵好苗子。他听后就用笔记下了，等他把这孩子的情况弄楚后就调来他的学生档案，将他列入推荐名册，后來他告诉我说张风波已被上海外语学院录取了，我还为这孩子高兴了一陣子。后來听昌明告诉我说，他已是一位了不起的国际尖端人才。 由于他在招生工作中做得出色而且清政廉明，受到湖北省教育厅厅长周时炎的赞赏。后來周厅长到松滋视察教育工作時还专门到我们家走访过。 1993年退休后，他最突出的几件事再还啰嗦一哈。 一是酷愛学习。我们当時订有两报一刊，即《湖北日报》、《参考消息》和《文摘》，退休后我把《湖北日报》改订为《楚天都市报》。他每天上午主要看报，除了看还做笔记、剪贴报纸，并把重要消息讲给我听，他做的笔记堆了好大一堆。 二是行善积德。他有一颗最善良的心。为孤寡老人，我们曾给地区民政局送去捐款；汶川地震我们分别在各自的单位捐款；他做得特别突出的是凡看见要飯的、残疾病人讨钱的、神经病人在垃圾堆里找吃食的他都是身上有多少钱就都给人家多少，对不会用钱的人就先去买吃的， 然后赶着送到那些人的手中。他有几个同亊告诉我说，老刘同志呵，你的老袁真是一个大善人。他若出去你就把些零钱，免得他有一百就给人家一百元，有五十元一张的就送给人家五十元，他硬是把荷包倒光了才回來。 三是虔诚礼佛。他从亊革命亊业数十载，自始自终都是一个忠于党、忠于人民的好党员、好公仆。六十岁退休后由于他身患高血压心脏病，特别是2002年以來病情日趋加重，经常心绞痛，每次去看医生，医生都要他马上住院，到了出院的时候，医生总是再三叮嘱他回到家里要坚持卧床休息。但他是一个闲不住的人，为静心強身，他想到礼佛。1994年他开始在荆州章华寺请经書， 比如《大乘楞严经》、《阿弥陀经》、《观音普门品》、《慈悲梁皇宝忏》等等，同时开始诵经做早课，还请了观音大士圣像。在颂读经書的过程中，他专程到松滋大悲寺拜果师付为师学佛受戒(即不殺生、不偷盗、不妄语、不奸淫、不酗酒等)。经过经書和师付的开示，他於1996年开始在家严格实行每天安排好的生活、学习及礼佛的日程， 即每天零晨四点钟起床，洗漱完了就开始按仪式念佛、做早课，然后就盘腿打坐(开始只能單腿盘坐)、静心颂经，坚持三个小時做完后才吃餐，然后看电视新闻联播、做家务活，如果见到太阳就晒衣服、被子等，中餐后睡午觉，两点多钟开始做午课直到五点多钟，之后要么帮助收衣、被，要么打扫楼梯处的公共场地等，晚餐后坚持到户外活动，主要是散步，回家后看中文国际频道的节目即“中国新闻”、“国宝档案”、“走遍中国”、“海峽两岸”等，九点钟他就上床睡了。有時他还应松滋大悲寺的邀请去参加拜忏活动，住上月余時间，寺庙的师付们都很亲近他，因为他礼佛特别虔诚，哪怕有时心绞痛发了他吃了药喝点水稍休息一会又急着上场，飯前飯后的休息时间，他从不空着，不是给大家洗碗筷就是扫场地或殿堂。平时居家，每逢农历的初一、十五他都到附近的多宝庵去敬香礼佛。就这样日复一日、年复一年一直坚持到2002年，功夫不负有心人，有一天他突然很高兴的告诉我说他己能完完全全的打双盘坐了！当时他己六十八岁，真是不容易啊！ 2002年以后他的心脏病更加严重，发病频繁，每次发病差不多都在深夜。每年多次住院，特别是到2006以后，除心脏病外又加上痛风病经常发作，每次都痛得死去活來，因此就很少到松滋大悲寺去了，只是偶尔到附近的多宝庵参加重大的礼佛活动。每次他去任何一个寺庙从不空手，不是上功德就是供养僧人或者捐款修缮寺庙。1997年他向大儿子告我的状，说我每月给他的活动费少了，大儿子跟我说您就每月给他一仟元，我就按大儿子的意见每月给他一仟元，让他用在礼佛、敬佛、行善方面去了。特别是在2009初，我看他病得太重，就把我俩共同的积蓄毫无隐瞒地告诉他(因他对我放手放心从不过问钱财之事)，听候他忍不住每天都催我把钱取出來(当時钱在股市)给他，没办法只好顺从他，把十万元人民幣的存款交给他，他一拿到手转身便叫小儿子替他送给松滋大悲寺四万元，送给多宝庵三万元，剩下的由他本人亲自送给他家乡石山堡的袁氏词堂和寺庙了。2010年元旦节期间大儿子全家从北美回荆州大团圆，给他一万元人民币他回头就捐了出去，还大大赞赏大儿子向民政局捐款的善行。看到他这样无私虔诚的行为，多宝庵的演本师傅曾说：“袁居士真是一位大善人，将來他一定是一个虔诚菩萨！” 在长期住院的情况下，他不能再盘腿打坐、早晚礼佛了，但他依然带病坚持以松滋大悲寺震果法师摘编的名义执笔撰写了《南无阿弥陀佛是怎样一尊佛》的小册子，并在当地佛教信男信女中广泛发行，其所有费用都是他一个人承担的。 到了2011年，他連續五次住院，因为心衰严重、心脏辨膜高度损坏，随之引起肾衰，呼吸也特别困难。医生多次找我谈话说要我作好思想准备，他随時都有“走”的可能，在最后20多天里，他受尽磨难，终究逃脱不了病魔的纠缠，於2012年元月2日下午五时许被疾病夺去了他的生命…可怜我夫君刚过了七十七岁就离开人世先我而去了… 但跟我讲过，他的整个晚年都是幸福的。后来我在他的遗物中发现一张字条，上面有他亲笔写的三句话:辛酸的童年，奋斗的青壮年，幸福的晚年。 ----------------------
My Dates
Between 1934 And 2012 Is A Line Short But Containing Numerous Dotted Words
[Actually, these dates are my fathers]
01/02/2012: for Yuan Hongqi
That was the day when my father died Before finishing the longevity noodles Mom’s trying to feed him below our feet On the other face of the planet, where He had persisted long enough to allow Us to celebrate another new year’s day In Jingzhou as well as in Vancouver When my brother’s only son managed to Travel all the way to Grandpa’s dying bed To report how he was doing in New York This was also the time when I and Hengxiang Felt like making love again after another Cold war, when Iran successfully testfired Two long-range missiles in the Persian Gulf To deter the invasion to be led by Uncle Sam And his running dogs, when the very first Plymouth Neon was made in 2000, when JFK Became a senator in 1960, when a stamped Took 66 human lives after a soccer game At the Ibrox Park Stadium in Scotland Even earlier, and when God was taking A long overdue nap, since he knew All was well with this wild wild world On that day, I became the oldest male In my entire family, ready to take my turn To deal with death in a masculine manner
Tomb Visiting: For Yuan Hongqi
Last year, before burying your ashes Right beside Grandma’s grave site (To guard her Buddhaship, as you had Wished), I opened your urn for a peek And found your biggest bone chip Glistening against the January wind As pink as a piece of charcoal Now, too far to attend your anniversary Like every other good Confucian son Burning joss sticks and fake money Lighting a huge pile of firecrackers Before your tombstone, on Big Wok Peak But I did make three loud kowtows Towards the east, and in so doing I saw a little rosy cloud drifting around Like an inflated bird beating its wings Along the horizon, amid evening glows And wondered whether that’s your spirit Still lingering between earth and heaven What was it tightly holding in its beak: A heirloom, or simply our family name?
[Although the poem was written early in 2012, it was round 10:30 pm on Saturday evening 30 December when my mom was conducting a traditional commemorating ritual in Jinzhou, China that I led my family actually to kowtow towards the east]
上坟：献给袁宏启
年初，我把您的骨灰 埋在奶奶的坟边 （保她平安，如您生前所愿） 我打开您自买的骨灰坛偷看了一眼 但见您最大的一片骨殖 在元月的寒风中闪闪烁烁 粉色的，就像一块火炭 现在，我离您实在太远 不能像其他儒家孝子 到大锅顶您的坟前去祭奠 点香，烧冥钱，放长鞭 但我还是领着妻儿面朝东边 磕了三个响头，当时我遥见 一朵红云飘飘然然 象一只充气的鸟儿振翅飞旋 在地平线上，在晚霞之间 不知那可是您的魂灵 还彷徨在天地之间？ 瞧，那鸟嘴里叼的是什么 您的传家宝，还是我们的姓字‘袁’？
Recalling: For Yuan Hongqi
‘Wait a while!’ Mother would shout, ‘they say There might be more showers this afternoon.’ So I recalled, from time to time How he would turn a deaf ear to her And continue, dragging out quilts Sheets, pillows, blankets, padded coats One pile after another Like moving forests Hanging them on thick ropes Tied to deformed poplars or lamp posts ‘Not again! This old man of mine just wouldn’t Want to waste a single ray of sunlight.’ And remembered, for nearly half a century My dad had tried each time to empty the whole house And sun-wash everything, more like a grandma Than like a father, even during the Cultural Revolution Now realizing how I have been haunted By his stark image, smiling, in blue, ever since He nodded his head to Mother for the last time About 5 pm on January 2 last year I find myself choked again with gratitude: It was my father who gave me so many a chance To smell fresh sunlight in my boyish nightmares
Kinship: For Yuan Hongqi
Yes, we are father and son, but so often Did I doubt this simple small biofact: We could never say more than three short Sentences to each other when we met, nor Did we meet more than three times per year Before I managed to flee a thousand miles Away from you, and later ten thousand away From your village on this world’s other side Like other Chinese fathers, you never said You loved me, gave me a hug, or touched me Unless it was a cutting pinch in the arm Or a heavy hit on the butt, (always in surprise) While my peers kept bragging aloud About their great fathers, grandfathers I looked down upon you, not because of Your slight stature, but because of your Smaller personality, constantly calling you ‘A Buddha outside, a Devil at home’ (Of course behind your back), so I used to Feel guilty, fearing I could never shed Any teardrops when you die, just as every True Confucian son is supposed to Unlike me and my son, with a big store of Co-memories ready to share, to cherish We were born enemies, karma-determined In our former lives, just as you had explained To my mother, (who would be busy filling In each new crack on our wall, with a big pail Of muddy mixture every time we met) Yet ever since your death at the dawn of 2012 I have been haunted by your image, kindly Smiling, and even sobbed my heart out While dreaming last night: are you there, Dad?
亲情：写给袁宏启
没错，你我确系父子，不过我常常 怀疑这一简单的生物学事实： 每次相聚，我们难能说完三句短话 而一年到头我们见面也不过三次 那还是我在世界的另一边 逃避你千里万里之前 像其他中国父亲，你从未说过 你爱我，拥抱过触摸过我 除非是深掐臂膀 或痛打屁股，（总是冷不及防） 当我的同伴大声吹嘘 他们的爸爸爷爷如何了得，我却 瞧不起你，不是因为 你身量矮小，而是因为 你性格怯弱。我时时（在你背后）说你 ‘在外是活菩萨，在家是活阎王’ 因为这，我深深内疚，唯恐不能像个 真正的儒家孝子在你离世时为你落泪 不像我和我的儿子，总有许多共同往事 分享回忆，我你乃天生对头 前世注定，一如你向我母亲诉说的 那样。（每当我俩相见 她总是拧着个大桶， 随时在你我之间的 高墙上填缝补隙） 可是，自从2012年年初你撒手人寰 你的形象一直追缠着我，慈爱的 微笑，每每使我泣不成声 昨夜还梦见：你在么，爸？
Family Reunion: Once, and Forever
Yuan Hongqi, may your spirit, Dad, come And join us from Pure Land in this poem (Conceived in and dedecated to Vancouver) With Liu Yu, my mother, who is paying us A visit from the other side of the world Let’s gather together behind these thin lines Where I and Hengxiang Liao, my old girl Have prepared a big dinner according to Our own recipes. Please, sit here with Mom Above my central metaphor. First, take a sip Of Luosong Soup, our only family specialty George Lai and Allen Qing, my two sons Always love to drink, even Hyunjung Lee (George’s Korean wife) finds it agreeable -- By the way, the young couple has finally Decided to buy a condominium in Sunnydale Now, try some consonance, and this assonance Fried with Tofu, a course you never heard of In your lifetime. Look, right beside you is Julian Han Yuan, your most favored grandson The pride of our family who’s doing his PhD In New York, and across the table are Liu Yun My brother and his current wife Chen Jing Still working far away in Jingzhou, China Dad, since you were a vegetarian, a Buddhist Let’s have internal rhyme instead of wine, let’s Celebrate our grand family reunion. Cheers!
[Towards the end of 2011, we had our first and last family gathering when my father was still alive. In terms of health and finance, this was a highly costly reunion, as George and Hyunjung had to travel from San Francisco, Julian from New York, and we - my wife, my younger and i, from Vancouver all the way to Jinzhou in Hubei Province. Because of this trip, Allen's disc problem got worse and has never recovered, while I began to suffer from dramatically obvious symptoms of heart diseases such as HCM (?)]
Here are all the pieces I have written with my father in mind since I began composing poetry in English, which have all been published as well:: Well, Well, the Well
(for Yuan Hongqi) In the lowest terrain of My father’s native village Used to be an old well As deep as the memories Of last century, around which Boys would be running At noon in summer And girls dancing under the willow At midnight, where my father Often sat, listening to his sick mother Telling stories about his unknown ancestors The well finally ran dry After God knows how long, and Since electricity came across the hills And ponds, nobody has returned to it Except mosses and lichens that have colonized The whole territory, where only my grandma’s ghost Shines down from time to time Trying to guard its walled-in secrets Now as dry as its mouth
[This is a parallel poem based on an imagined experience.]
Ischemia
In my line of people, especially on my father’s side There never seems to have been ample blood Running within the arteries behind our Chinese chests No matter how warm-hearted we actually are As in the case of my father, who used to Accuse me of being an ill-hearted teenager My heart muscle is imbalanced As one side is less infused with blood Than the other, thus causing palpitation Short breath, and a strong sense of Tightness, heaviness or tiredness about life To diagnose my cardiovascular defection Neither an echo nor a stress test is needed For I am keenly aware of my own doomed Arteries that have been clotted With too many syllables Voiced or voiceless And to make all these sounds flow out of my heart Is already stressful enough Nevertheless, I will keep pumping out these words Be they ever so blood-soaked [This is a parallel poem based on a puzzling health-related experience.]
心肌缺血
在我的家人中，尤其是男性 好像从无足够的血液 在我们的中国胸腔里流淌 尽管我们实际上非常热心 一如我父，他常骂我 是一个心坏的小子 我的心肌不够匀称 尖端处总是缺血 因此我时常觉得心悸，气短 以及对人生的疲倦 或负重感 要诊断我有缺陷的心脏 其实无须扫描或进行运动试验 我深知我的心脏血管 因有太多的音节而堵塞 有的是清音，有的是浊音 让这些音节都通过心室 早已使我精疲力竭 然而，即使这些音节沾满鲜血 我也要将其泵出
Curse in Verse: An Ischemic Tradition*
As if this had been a family curse You have all the symptoms of ischemia: Palpitations, short breaths, irregular heartbeats Although no test results show you Having a physiological cause of the problem While your family doctor keeps wondering Why you do not have enough blood Flowing around behind your Chinese chest You know your heart muscle as a sponge From which you have squeezed out Too many of your blood-rooted words Like your father, like your son [While my dying father Yuan Hongqi has never been able to get his poetry published, my 16-year-old younger son Allen Qing Yuan, who suffers greatly from disc problems, has already had his poems appearing in a number of countries. ]
诗咒：缺血的传统*
仿佛这是个家族之咒 缺血的症状你应有尽有： 心悸，气短，律动不齐 尽管没有哪项检查结果表明 你确有病理方面的原因 你的家庭医生实在弄不明白 你的中国胸腔之内，为甚么 没有足够的血液流淌 你知道，自己的心肌像一块海绵 从中你已挤出 太多太多沾血的字句 有其父，必有其子
Like A Lamp
in Vancouver west from time to time
you just cannot help yelling, yearning
for your father's humming
you fumble into musical halls
in pursuit of tunes
soft/hard utterances
you need this feeling
you need this contact
with origin
guiding your heart
like a lamp
along a forlorn road
[This is a parallel poem based on an imagined experience.]
Making Tea
Without a famous name These little shy leaves Coming afar from my father’s farm Deep among fluffy hills Like sleeping giant pandas Sowing a few in my crystal glass I see them budding Blooming in boiled water Taking a slow sip I fall drunk as if in a stupor With a tiny taste of All the freshness of spring And a whole morning glow Making Tea Without a famous name These little shy leaves Coming afar from my father’s farm Deep among fluffy hills Like sleeping giant pandas Sowing a few in my crystal glass I see them budding Blooming in boiled water Taking a slow sip I fall drunk as if in a stupor With a tiny taste of All the freshness of spring [My father enjoyed drinking thick green tea, but this is a parallel poem based on an imagined experience.]
Sunwashing
Never have I been a handy man With my hands so too clumsy Even to hold a hummer right As my wife often jokes about them But from my old man I did learn How to make my home hygienic By taking all bed clothing outside On a good sunny Saturday Opening all the doors and windows To replace the abused air Or even to remove the whole roof If removable So that my sons can dream A sun-fresh dream at night Just as I used to be so crazy About the golden smell of sunlight [My father would never wasted a singly ray of sunshine, as my mom often says: whenever it was sunny, he would put everything outside to enjoy some sunlight. I used to hate this addiction when I was a boy.]
Name Changing
Confucius once said If the name is not right Language will carry no might So my father created my name By rearranging the sun and moon Vertically and horizontally To equip it with all The forces of yin and yang Dispersed in the universe Since I became subject To a totally different grammar All people have complained Or made fun of my name So harsh and awkward They conspire to seduce me To adopt a familiar one Like Michael in the powerful speech But to retain the subtle balances In the wild wild world I wander To hold my father’s sunbeam With my mother’s moonlight I fiercely refuse to change it Even though I often feel lost When the sounds I hear Do not sound like my name at all
The White Goose
My grandfather was younger than my son When he died of an undiagnosed disease Somewhere in the Mid-South of China So we have been told since childhood: He did nothing memorable or forgettable Left no picture of his or any handwriting Not even one impression on my father’s senses Since he was born after he passed away) But he had bought a big white goose To protect his infant son in his place And a single-syllabled family name Copyrighting every little poem I have composed In a foreign tongue
Twilight：Hanyang County
Twilight Hanyang County My father was eight Yes, as young as eight Maybe only seven Burning with sweat On his way to nowhere In front of him a wild fellow dog (He was a dog according to Chinese zodiac) Was grumbling angrily with hanger While dry grasses and leaves Were swept from field to field And rain clouds too heavy with dusk Sacking down towards bald hills Dying of thirst and heat Both caused by an unknown fever He dragged himself close to a pond Smelling of rotten reeds and water buffalo shit There he drank to his full Wrapping his legs with fresh mud from the bottom To keep himself cool for the night The next morning he would continue Wandering around outside his fatherless home Like a premature vagrant
[When my father was orphaned at 13, he became a homeless boy travelling from Hanyang to Badong, Sichuan Province and then back to Shashi, Hubei Province, trying to find a job to make a living until 1949.]
Ancestry Worshipping
No, we never planned it that way But it so happened this seventh summer I took my twelve-year-young son To my father’s native village among hairless hills In the far east end, the other side of the world Which he had left as a starving orphan And returned with me in the Mao suit Like a magic-toyed boomerang When we were both at Allen’s age For the first times in our lives Last time, my father forced the Little Red Guard in me To kowtow, burn joss sticks and paper money secretly For his parents, whose dialect had survived Though I understood it only half-heartedly This time, I cajoled my boy to grasp a handful of earth From the grave of my grandma worshipped by villagers (Her humaneness has supposedly made her a local deity) And smuggle it to the backyard of our home in Vancouver Like some foreign seeds prohibited at the customs As we departed, again, our clan elder chanted: Under the shade of a new highway This old grave will soon be erased...
Masculine Haiku: A Poet’s Family
Debao Head and heart both bald He’s not pulled out one single line Except his surname George Using no poet’s lathe He shaves off his young manhood With an e-razor Allen Like son, like father His voice has begun to break All for poetry’s sake Michael To his great credit He’s published two finest sons Among his fine poems
The Death of a Chinese Widow
(For Li Juying)
In a remote Chinese village On a forgotten winter night A 38-year-old poor woman Tried hard to sit up noiselessly Put aside rather than on her padded clothes Crawled out of her frameless bed And resolutely drowned herself In a broken wide-brimmed water jug Behind herself she left neither worth nor words Except three teenagers who had been Bullied and looked at with slanting white eyes By their fellow villagers (who bore the same family name) Ever since their father died Of an untreated disease 13 years before Years later, her children understood Why she killed herself In a water jug on that night Many years after she had been suffering From a painful But not fatal disease Years later, her only son told me Why my grandma Chose to drown herself almost naked On that cold night
[My father was choked with tears every time he said he was never able to perform a son's loving duty, since his mother committed suicide to save family resources when he was only 13 years old. So, he insisted in having some of his ashes divided to be buried beside her tomb to do so. We honoured this wish of his, and to express my feeling, I wrote the above poem to commemorate my grandma.]
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parcenary my destination was preset you will receive a parcel by express. It turns out all too expressly, and the sender was my parents who had wrapped themselves inside already
My Photo Tightly embedded Within a metal frame Is my colored soul Sitting high Against the wall Like a stuffed owl I know how I will be spending days and nights Of my posthumous life there Watching my children walking Into their little rented room Or out of it
Father’s Soliloquy: A Mock Poem after Shakespeare The other night, before the cock crowed, or The crow cocked out of darkness, a yellowish Shape stalked in vision, as in blank verse ‘Mark me,’ it says, sounding almost exactly Like my late father. ‘Lend thy very serious Hearing to what I shall unfold.’ Suddenly alerted I got up among figures, between dream and sleep ‘When you were a teenager, I hated you so much For looking at me always with your eye whites Giving me an ugly face each time I talked to you So much so that I cursed you numerous times in My dream for being such an unworthy son; I often Doubted if you were my own flesh until you grew Into a normal loving adult, making me feel guilty All my life; also, I was suspicious of your mom Betraying me, not only in heart but also in body I almost caught her making love with some guy On our own bed - -You still remember that small Apartment we used to live in? Among all my dadly Secrets, these two I want to reveal to you first Next time, I will tell you more about the limbo Between hell and heaven, with the lightest word Which might harrow up thy spirit, burn up thy Blood…’ now the cock crows, and I must vanish
[This is a parallel poem based on an imagined experience.]
Walking with Father: For Yuan Hongqi One thing I forgot to mention, Dad Is I intentionally moved either before Or behind you, each time we happened To be walking together. That way, you could Neither pinch my arm not slap my face So readily; otherwise, you would have to Embarrass yourself if you ran forward Or waited to do so, as you tried to Educate me in anger. Since my departure From my home town beyond the pacific How often have I hoped to walk again, just once Side by side with you, getting or offering support Whenever either of us needed it But now I could only follow your footprints behind Step by step, while you wait to beat me in heaven, smiling Inviting My Father’s Spirit Rarely did we get along, Dad, before You gave us all up, and seldom Did we even talk, so you never Knew how I really felt about you As a father, in particular, about your Grooming habits: each time you Returned from your office or trips You skinned us off and washed all Our clothes, sheets, towels, mops Cleaning furniture (including Every foot’s bottom), polishing Lamp covers and cooking utensils Though you often forgot to put them Back in good and tidy order; true I learned to love your cleanness But never the way you were so busy Doing all this like an old woman Now you are taking a long break Up there, (where everything is Supposed to be perfectly clean); do You enjoy watching me doing Such things down here to keep My home and heart both dust-free
A Lost Memoir One more thing I never told you, Dad Was I always believed you to be an Extra-ordinary father, but in a highly Embarrassing way: each time you saw Me hanging around with my buddies You kept saying this like a big broken Gramophone: “Follow Chairman Mao’s Teachings; Follow the Party’s Lead,” just as you drove me crazy By trying to convert me into a true Communist like yourself, even When we happened to be eating At the same table. Still remember? You once forced me to kneel down On the hard ground until I finished Reciting Mao Zedong’s “Three Old Essays.” It was then I began to defy You blindly, to follow no other than My own heart, in a boyish rebellion Against your fatherly dictatorship Against any other form of tyranny
Twilight: for Liu Yu My heart muscle contracts, excruciatingly Like an overly-wound spring, ready to break Each time I imagine my mom walking alone Towards the dusty evening, while she used to Go downstairs first, waiting aloud for my dad: ‘Grandpa, what are you still busy doing there? It’s time to take a walk outside, along the moat!’ Now without a companion, my mother does not Have to wait or hurry for anyone, but how she Just misses the days when her shadow and my Father’s became longer and longer, side by side As they strolled slowly, until the sun set lower And lower above the blurred horizon of autumn
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