Elizabeth Bishop's Sestina is one of my favorite poems. It always reminded me of my own grandmother and grandfather. How years have passed by and now that they have passed away. This poem gave me a glimpse of my own early childhood, sitting by my grandparents and playing with them.
Tonight I wrote my version of Sestina in memory of my own grandparents with whom I have spent my first six years in the ancient capital city of Yangzhou.
Sestina
by Light BoatSeptember breeze blows on the house.
In the dwindling sunlight, the old grandparents
sits in the kitchen with the child
The Swallows are chirping away
leaving for the south with their nests behind,
Time for the winter, grandfather remarks.
He thinks that his chatty remarks
will cause attention of his wife and the child
but the child is dreaming and wandering
the dust in the sunshine, which swirls above
The dust dances in the light, the child discovers
Grandmother finds some peanuts for the child.
It's time for peanuts; but the child
thinks of the candies that she missed at the uncle's wedding
Candies are rare and she cries
her way while the dust dances around
Checking in the cabinet, and the old grandmother
cheerfully, she finds one piece of candy
The child wipes away her tears and takes the candy
sucking it and savoring in the mouth
with sweet delight of grandmother's twinkling eyes
and her bag still full of fresh picked peanuts.
The moon starts to climb up the sky
feeling chilly, and winter is not far away.
Do you know, says the grandfather, your parents are far away.
I know what you say, thinks the child.
With candy melting in the mouth, the child finds a string
Let me teach you how to tie a slipknot, Grandfather says
"You tie once and then fold one end to make the knot"
he teaches the child and the child shows the grandmother.
But secretly, while the grandmother
busies herself cooking the dinner,
the fire in the stove jumps up and down
brightening the faces of grandparents
all blend into the loving sight of the night
and they are carefully placed in the memory of the child.
The grandmother adds one more wood stick in the stove
and the grandfather puts away the string
Candies are sweet, says the child.
Sestina
by Elizabeth Bishop
In the dwindling sunlight, the old grandparents
sits in the kitchen with the child
The Swallows are chirping away
leaving for the south with their nests behind,
Time for the winter, grandfather remarks.
He thinks that his chatty remarks
will cause attention of his wife and the child
but the child is dreaming and wandering
the dust in the sunshine, which swirls above
The dust dances in the light, the child discovers
Grandmother finds some peanuts for the child.
It's time for peanuts; but the child
thinks of the candies that she missed at the uncle's wedding
Candies are rare and she cries
her way while the dust dances around
Checking in the cabinet, and the old grandmother
cheerfully, she finds one piece of candy
The child wipes away her tears and takes the candy
sucking it and savoring in the mouth
with sweet delight of grandmother's twinkling eyes
and her bag still full of fresh picked peanuts.
The moon starts to climb up the sky
feeling chilly, and winter is not far away.
Do you know, says the grandfather, your parents are far away.
I know what you say, thinks the child.
With candy melting in the mouth, the child finds a string
Let me teach you how to tie a slipknot, Grandfather says
"You tie once and then fold one end to make the knot"
he teaches the child and the child shows the grandmother.
But secretly, while the grandmother
busies herself cooking the dinner,
the fire in the stove jumps up and down
brightening the faces of grandparents
all blend into the loving sight of the night
and they are carefully placed in the memory of the child.
The grandmother adds one more wood stick in the stove
and the grandfather puts away the string
Candies are sweet, says the child.
September rain falls on the house.
In the failing light, the old grandmother
sits in the kitchen with the child
beside the Little Marvel Stove,
reading the jokes from the almanac,
laughing and talking to hide her tears.
She thinks that her equinoctial tears
and the rain that beats on the roof of the house
were both foretold by the almanac,
but only known to a grandmother.
The iron kettle sings on the stove.
She cuts some bread and says to the child,
It's time for tea now; but the child
is watching the teakettle's small hard tears
dance like mad on the hot black stove,
the way the rain must dance on the house.
Tidying up, the old grandmother
hangs up the clever almanac
on its string. Birdlike, the almanac
hovers half open above the child,
hovers above the old grandmother
and her teacup full of dark brown tears.
She shivers and says she thinks the house
feels chilly, and puts more wood in the stove.
It was to be, says the Marvel Stove.
I know what I know, says the almanac.
With crayons the child draws a rigid house
and a winding pathway. Then the child
puts in a man with buttons like tears
and shows it proudly to the grandmother.
But secretly, while the grandmother
busies herself about the stove,
the little moons fall down like tears
from between the pages of the almanac
into the flower bed the child
has carefully placed in the front of the house.
Time to plant tears, says the almanac.
The grandmother sings to the marvelous stove
and the child draws another inscrutable house.
請閱讀更多我的博客文章>>>
