In the Forest

< One >

After a few days of spring rain,
Flowers covering the trees have all fallen,
Sprinkled on a colorful ground;
Those still clinging to the branches,
As a gust of wind blows,
Let go and float down like snow.

Mud is still wet in the forest,
No trace of anyone,
Only me,
And, the birds singing on all trees.

< Two >

There is a place in the forest, on a hill by the lake.
I walk through there every day,
And consider it as my own secret garden.
In fact, it is not one bit secret,
It is surrounded on all sides by footpaths from which people come walking.
The hill is covered with chestnut trees, beech, oak, birch trees and acacia trees......
Although the woods are dense, the breeze is light and the atmosphere is extremely clean.

I often suspend my steps there.
Closing my eyes and listening to bird talk
Coming in waves as in the sea, one after another.

Looking up and
Seeing tree trunks that cut straight black shadows in the sunlight,
Bright green leaves growing more lush day after day,
Languidly swaying in the wind.
I utterly love this, a moment of solitude with nature.

< Three >

The forest flocks with people at weekends.
Large families out for a walk, chasing children, walking dogs
Runners, cyclists, sunbathers lying by the lake.
The silent forest is transformed into a lively holiday beach.

I like even more the solitary walks in the hollow weekday forest,
It is a philosophical garden suited for contemplation,
And dialogue with oneself.

< Four >

How to start this painting,
Capture the flickering, windy feeling,
The crackling of the leaves, the fluttering of the wind.
Yes, this is meant to be a painting of
The wind, and of
Its sound gently brushing through the misty forest.

< Five >

In early June, walking under a linden tree
Its faint, discreet scent
Suddenly brings awareness about this tender friend.
No bright color to grab the eye
A calm, soothing flower scent
Like a gentle and quiet friendship
Softly holding you up.
Without fuss or excitement.
It comes for a casual visit to your home, hanging around a bit,
Leaving behind a handful of aromatic herbs, and then quietly departing.

This brief flowering season is like a reminder
That the beauty of life is in the present moment, and should be grasped in time.

< Six >

In the dense forest.
Sunlight that passes through the leaves
Sprinkles sparse clusters of bright spots on the ground.
Following the direction of those spots,
A series of landscapes, put in focus in a peculiar manner,
Become connected
And provide my itinerary for today’s walk.

< Seven >

Walking up an unfamiliar path.
Trees and foliage here provide a dense shade
The sunlight from outside only sparsely seeps in.
I was attracted by a small clump of grass,
Its multi-layered, thin leaves crawling on the ground,
The long, thin stems holding four or five small pale white flowers,
Very low-key, but very assiduous, and full of poetry.

It caught my eye because
A ray of sunlight pierced just through the dense forest,
And shone by chance on these little white flowers.
It was so precise, so perfect that
It was like a revelation,
Like the coming of a miracle.

< Eight >

In mid-summer July,
The long yellow flower bunches of the chestnut trees fall one after another,
Sprinkled on the winding paths in the forest,
Blending in with the autumn colors of fallen leaves.

I stop for a moment under the trees before the sun sets,
Smelling the diverse scents of the forest.
Green leaves just grown, dried and cracked fallen leaves, the ones already decayed into mud,
Scents of flowers, scents of fruits, of people and dogs,
All rising, following the last rays of sunlight…

< Nine >

The forest in high summer,
Is a compact chaos of green,
Unfathomable, unwavering,
Determined, almost stubborn,
Like rocks by the sea..…

When the curtain of darkness falls,
The bright moon
Shines straight into the house from far away, through the trees,
Reflecting on the ground like a layer of silver frost.
I stand on the terrace
Immersed in moonlight,
Remembering the moon rising from the Lanxi valley...…

< Ten >

On the path,
Standing awhile under the big oak tree,
Listening to the breath of the forest.....

The horse chestnuts trees, their leaves changing colors early,
Foretell the footsteps of the coming autumn.
From high in the leafy bush descends chirping birdsong,
Crows peck among piles of fallen leaves close by.

The curtain of darkness comes slowly down,
At this moment of alternation between day and night,
The forest will also be handed over to another crowd.

The moon, absent for more than half a month,
Hangs again from the velvety canopy,
Its light
Bright, firm, and pure,
Every being following its rhythm, carrying on along one’s own track.

And I,
Bidding farewell to the company of the forest,
Will also follow the wind and go away......

2009