In memory of our sisters 作者：stephanie 时间：2008-7-15 周二, 下午6:10 In memory of our sisters Where are you, where are you, where are you going, I am waiting I am waiting for you. Where are we, where are we, where are we going, are you waiting are you waiting for me. Are you there, are you there are you writing poems, poems, poems, poems, are you writing poems with the shadows in the snow. Snow, snow, snow. Isn't it cold on Champs Elysees, Yoko ? Snow is falling, falling, falling onto your nose. Snow is falling, falling, falling onto your lips. Snow is falling, falling, falling onto your memory of Kyoto. Yoko, is it snow flake or white hair on your head ? Tell me, tell me, tell me where is your destiny ? Has it been a long way ? Has it been a long, long, long way to go from kneeling down to scrub a man's back in the hot tub with hate and love in Kyoto to standing up in the wind to be accompanied by the bitterness in a cup of coffee at St. Germain Des-Pris ? Yoko, what are you going to do with your Ph.D. in philosophy lincensed by Sorbonne ? Yoko, why are you selling your degree to Paris Vision to escort tours to the Louvre ? How much is it, Yoko ? How much do they pay you ? As a second 病毒风险链接！, A third class citizen, And a salary nobody wants. How much do you pay, Yoko ? A heart hovering in between Paris and Kyoto with no home. A dream searching everywhere and ending up nowhere. Yoko, my heart is soring. Yoko, sayonara. Oh, au revoir. No, I don't want to leave you. Yoko, let's hold hands Through the poems in the snow. Snow, snow, snow, isn't it cold, Irene ? Isn't it cold in the Pocono Mountains, Irene ? Snow is falling, falling, falling onto your cup of hands. Snow is falling, falling, falling onto your memory of your cat at the ashram in California. Irene, isn't it cold ? the lake is frozen. From now on, can you dance on the thin ice to whichever direction that you like ? Tell me, tell me, tell me where is your destiny ? Has it been a long way Has it been a long, long, long way to go from letting go of a broken heart to bumping around on the highways from San Diego to Santa Fe to Tulsa to Boulder to the Pocono Mountains to writing a book called "Where to Go After a Divorce" ? Irene, what are you going to do with your cat left at the ashram and the herbal garden in your dream ? Irene, day after day, month after month, year after year of bumping around, can you tell me where to shop for instant enlightenment in so many stores on the highways from coast to coast ? Irene, isn't it cold ? Isn't it cold where George said, "No more, you go yours and I go my own way." ? Irene, are you letting go, are you letting go of so much love and tears like a balloon in the air ? How much does a marriage pay, Irene ? How much does a marriage pay you ? Legal prosititution, Free slavery, And the blame for your man's adultery. Irene, how much do you pay ? A cat sent to the holy ashram. Cold eyes from your parents who warned you before hand. Irene, my heart is hurting. Irene, good luck on your journey. Oh, I will miss you. No, I don't want to leave you. Irene, let's hold hands through the poems in the snow. Snow, snow, snow. Isn't it cold, Yen ? Isn't it cold in Chinatown, Yen ? Snow is falling, falling, falling onto your eye lashes. Snow is falling, falling, falling onto your silence. Snow is falling, falling, falling onto your daughter's Afro hair on a Chinese face. Yen, don't you think your daughter wants a bite of egg roll ? Tell me, tell me, tell me where is your destiny ? Has it been a long way ? Has it been a long, long, long way to go from New York's Chinatown where your parents called him "Nigger" to Louisana where his parents called you "Chink" and both of you got kicked out to nowhere ? Isn't it cold ? Isn't it cold in this world ? Yen, what are you going to do with Jim and your little daughter ? Yen, are you turning to Jesus ? Yen, are you turning to social welfare ? How much is love, Yen ? How much does love pay you ? Discrimination, Racial prejudices, And rejection by both families. Yen, how much do you pay ? Drop out of medical school, Loss of roots and identity and dignity. Yen, my heart is hurting. Yen, send my love to your daughter. Oh, tell her she is beautiful. No, I don't want to leave you. Yen, let's hold hands through the poems in the snow. Snow, snow, snow. Isn't it cold Magarita ? Isn't it cold in Venice, Magarita ? Snow is falling, falling, falling onto your fingers. Snow is falling, falling falling onto your note book. Snow is falling, falling, falling onto your memory of the stain of blood. Magarita, you are now in a quiet town. There is no more blood. From now on, will you settle down by the ocean and walk on the beauty of the snow ? Tell me, tell me, tell me where is your destiny ? Has it been a long way ? Has it been a long, long, long way to go from picketing capitalism in fron of the White House as an Italian American idealist to studying Chinese in a socialist utopia China to ten years later to be haunted by the bloodshed at Tiananmen Square as a correspondent for the A.P. ? Magarita, what are you going to do with your idealism and heart and tears ? Magarita, are you now meditating in front of the Buddha on human sufferings and pondering on the Tibetan Book of the Dead ? How much does your dream pay, Magarita ? Disillusioned by Marx and Engels. Deceived by socialist utopia advocates to serve the people. Disoriented about life and death. How much do you pay, Magarita ? Over exhausted and drained of tears. Traveling around the world and ending up in a small room in your parents' home in suburban Venice not knowing where to go tomorrow. Magarita, my heart is hurting. Magarita, sleep tight tonight. Oh, tomorrow don't forget to call me to tell me your other dreams. Magarita, let's hold hands through the poems in the snow. Snow, snow, Snow, so many shadows, shadows, Shadows of our sister's sister's sister, Shadows of our mother's mother's mother, Shadows of daughter's daughter's daughter in every corner under the stars. Tonight, who's going to comfort you ? Simone De Beauvoir, Jesus, Sivananda, Plato, Buddha, Social worker, or whosoever talks to your soul. Come, let's hold hands, and let's write our poems on the snow. The road is long, There are twists and turns, turns and twists. But we are not lonely. We have each other. For Chinese translation, go to: http://www.australianwinner.com/AuWinner/viewtopic.php?t=79961 来源：http://www.australianwinner.com/AuWinner/viewtopic.php?t=79969 |