Translated…
My Husband is the Embodiment of the Colors
In 1947, at the Prime of His Painting Career
He’d Left the Paintbrush
not my photo…
Put Himself on the Frontline to Settle the Unsettlement in the Society
And in Exchange, He’d Received the Harsh Screams from the Bullets
His Blood, Splashed at the Square of the Train Station of His Hometown
Finished His Final Work of Art
The Bullet that Shot Through Your Husband’s Chest
Started Having an Impact on Your Life Since
You’d Packed Up His Bloodied Clothes
Wrapped it Up Tightly, Sealed it Up Tight
“I’ll Show the Heavens” Became Your Primary Drive
To Hide All Your Husband’s Works of Art Inside that Attic of the Darkened Times
Year After Year, You’d Restored Them Carefully
Waited for the Day You Will, Show Them Outside Once More
You’d Kept it Pent Up for Forty Years
not my photo still…
Even that Bloodied Shirt Became Old and Torn
And it Could, No Longer Kept
The Shocks from the Pains of the Bullet Holes Masked Up
It’s Busted All of a Sudden
And, Fresh Blood Came Out of It, Exclaiming,
“Your Father Had Been Taken
Find Someone to Save Him
Did He Have Any Clothes on
Go, Bring Him a Shirt”
You’d Worried about Your Husband Endlessly
not my photo…
For Life, and, Because of This
Your Husband’s Art Was Able to Shed Light on the Art Histories of Taiwan
So, the loss had become a gain of sorts at the end, the husband had died, and, it was the wife who’s worked hard, to carry on her husband’s desires for his artwork, and, this woman must be very strong, to keep carrying on, after she’d lost the man she loved………