When I think of him

(Feifei writes traditional-style Chinese poems. Abundantly and elegantly. He seems to be able to bring about the beauty of traditional poems without apparent effort, the only one I've known or appreciated with such skill, even though he is also one not adhering to the particular poetic rules. So I call him "natural". And he is such a wonderful, passionate and fun-loving person. He also shows very distinctive characteristics of the people of my hometown, far away and long forgotten by me. So impressed, I even wrote two pieces of my own, just to praise him. Laughable, I know, for a non-poet to even entertain such an impulse. Well.)

When I think of him

I smile
When I think of him,
Regally grand and worldly loyal,
That is him.

I frown
When I think of him,
Vigorously naughty and tirelessly buzzy,
What can you do?
With him.

I dismiss
When I think of him,
Fires burn and desires abound,
How is that Budda?
Within him.

I marvel
When I think of him,
Flowers blossom'd and stars shone,
Poetry is him.

Poetry is him.

He says goodbye

When we meet he says goodbye
Pleasant, that's his smile:
Mountains there are sky high
And clouds and the Moon nearby

I, ever the ignorant
Desperately linger the moment:
It is nature
That the end is so inevitable,
What goodness
To take an early departure

Look into his fleeting heart
Cheerfully, he replies:
What for,
But nothingness
The fish, the dream and the butterfly

So we meet
And we say goodbye