Yidan Han

  Contributing Editor:
  Kyle David Anderson

Grace Lim

林月慧是出生于马来西亚的华侨。毕业于英国的Luton, Bedfordshire大学社会心理学学士。她从1994–1999住在旧金山,曾在中美国际学校担任课外活动规划署助理署长,也在法美国际学校教汉语。她在 1999 年,移居到波特兰,在金融业工作了几年。2007年,她选择成为全职画家和作家。她和她的三只爱犬住在俄勒冈的幸福谷。

Grace Lim is Malaysian-born Chinese with a BA in Psychology cum Sociology from the University of Luton in Bedfordshire, England. She lived in San Francisco from 1994–1999, where she worked as the Assistant Director of the After school Program at the Chinese-American International School, and taught Mandarin in the French-American International School. She moved to Portland in 1999, and worked in financial industry for several years. In 2007, she chose to work full-time as a painter and author. Grace and her three dogs make their home in Happy Valley, Oregon.


Grace Lim


Life, An Artist

飘落的叶子 遗憾自己不会飞翔的翅膀。 年少的任性 由着自己的性子 霍尽了青春的狂妄。 生命不停的作画, 风陪伴着写诗, 把悲伤吹散、让灿烂留下。 晨光引路, 雨水滋润心深处爱的记忆。 爱的记忆发出一种优美的声音, 原来爱的声音那么好听, 我贪婪的重播心深处这声音。 生命也贪婪了,它 把天空画得更蓝。


A fallen leaf Mourns its wings that can not fly. Youthful ignorance Unleashes its temper, Exhausts its vigorous arrogance. Life keeps on painting, The wind accompanies poetry; Dispersing sadness, so glory might stay. Dawn leads the way The rain moistens the memory of love deep inside. The memory of love echoes a beautiful voice A voice of love, so sweet. I greedily replay it in my heart over and over again, Life is greed as well, she Paints the sky a darker cobalt blue.


A Loner

如果我能走在云间, 我要从云这一端跳到另一端。 我要吹口哨,就好像没有人听见。 想象我就是在蓝水涧漂流的羽毛 和任何人都无关, 平静的漂流到一个遥远的地方。 我怎么会像这个样? 想象自己行走于云端, 幻想自己像羽毛一样的漂移, 当我坐在这里衡量了又衡量, 我的人生目的 - 为了什么?为谁?就为让聆听? 就为了所谓的对和错? 凉风从松树林里吹过来, 吹出一阵令人鼓舞的声音。 醒醒,春天的花儿开了! 对着森林,昆虫,鸟类和植物的 生命窃窃私语 事实上,风,每次的吹击都唤起 沉睡的热情活力。 喧闹的蜂鸟是情报员; 精力充沛,快速,准时, 以最长的迁徙路线, 超越所有其它鸟类的飞行速度, 来到了我挂在屋檐上的红色饮 瓶, 给我带来了春的讯息。 树皮,草蕨 和花丛都能感觉 每个风的吹拂; 吹醒了春天的奥妙。 就一次,一个顿悟 云、羽毛、蜂鸟 、风 都是隐装的智者——沉默;也都漂流。


If I could walk on clouds I'd jump from one to another I'd whistle, as if no one heard I'd imagine I was a soft feather on blue water Like nobody's business Calm and drifting to a faraway place How did I end up like this? Imagining walking on clouds Hallucinating I was a drifting feather sitting here mulling My sense of purpose – what is it for? for whom? simply to pleasure the ear? Is it for a sense of conscience? A cool wind drifts through the woods The pines rustle a soft encouraging voice Wake up, spring blossom! The life of the forest, insects, birds and plants rustles With each breath the wind awakens the verve of deep slumber The flitting hummingbird, the informer Feisty, fast and on time Taking the longest migration route, but out-flying all other brids Alights on my red feeder, hanging from the eave Bringing me the message of spring From bark and fern to flowers and shrubs, Every wind felt Blows in spring wonders For once, an epiphany rings out The cloud, the feather, the hummingbird and the wind All hide wisdom. Silence; they calmly drift away...

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