Gordon T. Osing and De-An Wu Swihart

In Sunset's Glow

In the evening's glow,
your lips tightly closed,
you say, "There are only fifteen minutes left,"
meaning the sorrow has already begun.

"We might be apart for ten or a hundred years;
we must be thousands, ten-thousand miles apart."
But then you smile playfully
showing your real age.

You say, "I forgot to say even the one sentence."
I say, "Yes, you seem to have forgotten that one sentence."
We never got around to that sentence all evening;
but before we'd noticed, anyway, the sun set in silence.

In the Twinkling of the Eyes
--During those wrong years I had this kind of "illusion"

I firmly believed
I watched the world with utmost concentration.

A rainbow
swam in the fountain,
searching among the passers-by silently.
I blinked my eyes
and it turned into the shape of a viper.

A clock
reposed on a church
marking the time steadily;
I blinked my eyes
and it became a bottomless well.

A red blossom
opened on the movie screen
inviting the excitements of Spring;
I blinked my eyes
and it turned to glistening blood.

Now to keep my beliefs solid
I keep my eyes wide open all the time.

You turn in silence aside
your face to the night.

In the places where the night grows darkest
lamps crowd together.

They are always there together;
we will meet again, sooner or later.

Good-bye now
so that we see each other again.

You,
you look at me one moment
and at clouds the next.

I feel
when you're looking at me, you're far away,
but when you're looking at the clouds, how could we be nearer!

The dark nights gave me my dark eyes;
I, however, use them to look for light.