English Original
spring dream ...
slipping my wings
into a work shirt
Touchstone Award, 2015
Michael McClintock
Chinese Translation (Traditional)
春之夢
我的翅膀滑入
一件工作襯衫
Chinese Translation (Simplified)
春之梦
我的翅膀滑入
一件工作衬衫
Bio Sketch
Michael McClintock's lifework in haiku, tanka, and related literature spanned over four decades. His many contributions to the field included six years as president of the Tanka Society of America (2004-2010) and contributing editor, essayist, and poet for dozens of journals, anthologies, landmark collections and critical studies. McClintock lived in Clovis, California, where he worked as an independent scholar, consultant for public libraries, and poet. Meals at Midnight [tanka], Sketches from the San Joaquin [haiku] and Streetlights: Poetry of Urban Life in Modern English Tanka, were some of his recent titles.
Comments from the Panel, accessed at https://thehaikufoundation.org/touchstone-awards-for-2015/
ReplyDelete“A delightful expression of how we might grapple with the soaring spirit of our dreams and the grounding necessities of survival. I imagine a poet going to their day job. The connotations of the seasonal reference are made poignant through the confining of the potential/desire/power to fly (or the freedom felt in a flying dream itself). The sound-weave elegantly shifts from the first two lines to the altered state in the third, reinforcing the semantic shape of the whole.”
“A delightfully inventive poem. It is spring, and all things seem possible, even the spreading of one’s wings and taking flight. But in the light of day, reality pulls the poet back to earth. Dutifully he tucks his wings into the sleeves of a shirt and heads to work. Will he doff the shirt and spread his wings again tonight? One can only hope so.”
“This haiku continued to grow on me through the judging process and its sense of wonder and hope is very appealing. A fine example of finding a little magic in the most mundane of chores. Haiku can lift us into a realm of inspiration that makes us fall in love with these little poems, over, and over again.”