one always
dies too soon or too late --
below the tideline
my name drawn with a stick
has been washed out to sea
Eucalypt, April 2018
Neal Whitman
Chinese Translation (Traditional)
每個人總是
死得太早或太遲 --
在潮線的下方
我用棍子畫出來的名字
已經被沖到大海裡
Chinese Translation (Simplified)
每个人总是
死得太早或太迟 --
在潮线的下方
我用棍子画出来的名字
已经被冲到大海里
Bio Sketch
Neal
Whitman lives with his wife, Elaine, in Pacific Grove, California,
where he is a docent at Point Pinos Lighthouse. Visitors who come there
from near and far inspire him to write poetry that takes the
“particular" to convey the “universal". Neal is Vice President of the
United Haiku and Tanka Society.
The existential angst expressed in the opening statement/upper verse is exacerbated in the visually and emotionally poignant closing image of the speaker's name/identity washed out to sea.
ReplyDeleteNeal's thought-provoking tanka reminds me of the Keatsian question: one's name was writ in water or in marble?