Dreaming in Chinese ~ a plein air poem & reverie

Dreaming in Chinese

 

 

It hasn’t happened yet.

But I wonder

what it would be like

to dream in Chinese.

Maybe induced by

the smoke of lapsang souchong

or fire of rice wine, mijiu.

Would I find myself

standing on a corner

in old Shanghai singing

a song to the moon

in Mandarin?

Buying a bright-throated bird

in the market, maybe

a hua mei to stroll with;

serenade my mornings.

Fishing for mottled carp

from a low wooden boat

on the Yangtze.

Dipping a brush to paint

a mountain landscape

disappearing into the mist.

 

 

Colin Goedecke

Convent Station, New Jersey

May, 2016