Encounters of life, translated…
Two poets went out for a walk together.
And we’d, arrived at a cemetery together.
I heard you silently prayed, to the headstones that we’d come up to, introduced the ones you knew, out of the bunch, telling the life stories of some.
You’d told me: here lies a poet. He’d even placed a mailbox on his grave too. Ha. You’d pointed, “Why don’t you write to him?”
“What are they all saying?”, I’d asked you agitated.
“At first, they’re all blessings of the New Year.”
You’d told me, “Our one day is like a year for them………”
You’d stopped talking now.
But, I’d found out, that you’d made visits to the cemetery at least once every day. Some of the headstones in the cemetery, with someone who’s died, with those, unerasable memories that’s become, attached.
“Most of the time, I just, listened on quietly………”, you’d told me: that the ghosts and deities spoke in metaphors. Not the same languages we’re using on earth. Like poetry, you’d needed, to use your mind and your heart to understand.
“Only on the early morning of the Chinese New Year, after I’d made my way into the local shrines, I’d held conversations with these, ghosts: happy new year to all! I can, finally say it aloud.”
“Another brand new year, I suppose……”
“The New Year on Earth, after the spirits greeted me, they’d started speaking in their ghost tongues to me.”, you’d told me.
Some of the exchanges between the poets, only, GHOSTS can understand.
So, they may be, speaking in different languages than the rest of us, the poets are, as there are, so many symbolisms, so many various uses of literary devices, that, is why it’s sometimes, hard to understand poems, which is why, we would need, to analyze the poems, unlike how we can just, read through the articles we thumbed across.