I wrote two poems in the old Chinese style, but using English. Poem 1 Chinese Poem Style (Eight lines of either syllables each or seven syllables each. Two stanzas. No such thing as rhyme in Ancient China. Often extremely metaphorical, and tends to be very condensed.): Play was once freedom. Freedom of the child. And yet, see the tides. They change, rapidly. The beauty of play. Slowly shifting, ‘til, Things light shone upon, Change to emptiness. Poem 1 Mandarin Version: 戏，曾是自由。 孩中的自由。 可，风吹雨落， 水之路将变。 戏中美之源， 将要被转换。 光曾照之处， 转眼变深渊。 (Direct Translation): Play, was freedom, once. Freedom, in the child. And yet wind blows and rain pours, The current will change. The source of beauty in play, Will soon change and be replaced, The places where the light once shone, Become the abyss in the blink of an eye. Poem 2 Also Chinese Poem Style (seven syllables this time.): The children play, happiness Blooms like flowers on a tree. But flowers wither quickly, And happiness departs fast. It leaves you, so you lament, you despair, on what once was. It robs you, stabs you, kills you. And yet still you yearn for it. Poem 2 Mandarin Version 青年玩在柳树下， 笑容如花茂盛开。 花盛开后速速落， 笑容慢来快离开。 童子不兴，则低落， 去捕乐，又未抓到。 笑容使他命被毁， 却他依旧思曾经。 (Direct Translation): The youngster plays under the willow tree, Smiling, like a flower’s bloom. But a flower that blooms will quickly fall. And a smile comes slowly and leaves you fast. The child isn’t happy, thus unhappy, goes out to catch happiness, and yet fails. That smile caused him to waste his life, And yet he stills misses it.
These poems won my school’s poetry competition for the UK’s National Poetry Day. .. uhhh yay? Some notes for the poems by me: Poem 1 Play was once freedom. Freedom of the child. - Repeating freedom twice here may be a bit much And yet, see the tides. They change, rapidly. -might be too metaphorical The beauty of play. Slowly shifting, ‘til, Things light shone upon, Change to emptiness. - Honestly, this line could be improved by making it closer to its direct translation Poem 2: The children play, happiness - happiness at the end feels really weak and forced. Blooms like flowers on a tree. But flowers wither quickly, And happiness departs fast. - this line doesn’t sound great It leaves you, so you lament, - probably my favourite stanza of the four. this is probably the weakest line you despair, on what once was. It robs you, stabs you, kills you. And yet still you yearn for it.
