Liqing Yu (originally Eileen Tang) was a licensed pharmacist in Taiwan. She moved to California in 1978. She has authored more than 40 books in Taiwan and China. She is also a cofounder and actively involved in volunteering work for Evergreen Education Foundation for years. Her works have been included in anthologies, and textbooks throughout Taiwan, China and abroad. She has been awarded numerous prizes for her essays, proses, poems and stories for children. Currently, she lives in Berkeley, CA.
T. C. Lee
T. C. Lee was born in Nanchang, Kiangsi, China 1936. He graduated with B. S. degree from National Taiwan University and from Stanford University with Ph. D in 1964, both in Electrical Engineering. Then he worked in R&D with the high tech industry in US for thirty eight years. After retirement he devoted his long hobby and love in poetry and starting writing poems for several magazines.
The trees have left their poses
The flowers have left their color and fragrance
How should we leave our mark with each other
The mountain has left his silence
The stream has left the murmur of her travel
How should we leave the mark of our love
How to study clouds from the sky
And waves from the ocean
How to learn the wisdom of growth from the earth
And pain from love
And surrender from death
Oh may we learn how to cast ourselves into the fire
And be burnt to ashes
Where no marks are ever left
After eons of mutations,
we crawled out of our individual nests.
With our shells, half animal yet half plant,
we sometimes remembered and sometimes not,
what was lust vis-a-vis a naked paradise.
Uneasy words of love and fear inscribed
on oracle bones like a skewed lotus, that
slowly blossoms at a slant
in the dark cave of the distant past.
I have never been so beautiful;
From every dream with no beginning and no end
I crawled out quietly.
Angels with broken wings,
in every archaeological incarnation,
were allowed the transient pleasure of life's union.
I've never known how to pray that,
there be no boundary between life and death,
that love have no shadow of guilt or punishment.
In a wind with a flowery scent
Float pairs destined from past lives,
waiting to bear fruit;
I am but the soil,
Striving to sprout seed
What is eternity and what is sorrow,
I have never been so tossed.