Never will I forget the days when father waited for me on the horizon, for me to run over to him;
The roads on which I followed him to faraway places have now all disappeared.
I, now middle-aged, also love to travel,
But I no longer have his shadow in front of me.
Like his students, I worry always for the future;
In the mountain hotel where hi once dwelled, there is no longer the sound of the wooden clogs;
When the obasan sees me watching the view from the window,
She vaguely reminisces about him.
From the west to the east coast,
From the remote fishing village to the plateau city,
Different times, different feelings;
Exhausted, I return from drifting.
Grandmother always said we were useless intellectuals.
Here. Only here remains,
Where father once stood for a long time.
Now, I do.
In this quiet hall with incense burning,
There lies a tablet with his name on it, in the last row;
Next to him it is yet empty;
Of course, they wait for me to join them.
(tr. bu Chang Ts'o)
Liu K'o-hsiang was born in 1957 in Taichung, Taiwan, and graduated from Chinese Culture University. He is a birdwatcher, journalist, and editor.
Liu has written five books of poetry to date: Downstream, 1978; A Squirrel Named Bambi Ts'ao, 1983; A Stray Bird's Homeland, 1984; In the Island of Slanting Heaven, 1986, and A Mole's Point of View, 1988.
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