An Architect in June

The afternoon sun was pleasantly warm
    ... when the birds chirped from the distance,
    ... when the hills and buttressed valleys burst into a riot of wildbush flowers.

But why did I run?
    Yes, I ran from that glory ...
    ... till I found myself in a big stupendous city
    ... where I tried to live most gingerly;
In that somewhat labyrinthine city.

    (Though my lashes were often drenched
        ... missing something
        ... dreaming of a dream;
        ... an indefinable sense of longing for a dream.)

And one sunny morning I jumped with a spurt of power;
    A gale of laughter broke through my door,
Because I could reach now my cryptically cherised dream:
    My dream is a home, a home of my own.

    So, architects came offering services;
        Some looked gruff and strong;
        Some with the mien of royalty (?) and civility;
        Some too old ... some too young.
    I must be careful now ... I want a house that is strong.

From behind came a comical-looking man:
    "I understand, lady, you want a gardener."
"Oh, no, the house isn't built yet; I want an architect."
    "Then I made a mistake."

He started off but changed his mind;
    To entertain he cracked some words of fun;
Somehow I suspected he's full of wile,
    But I shrugged ... it's only for a while.
And he showered me with jokes, stories, flowers, cookies.
Now with his friendship I felt at ease.

          The architect of my taste hadn't come.

But the felicity suddenly fell when one day I got up
    And found out my most precious dozens of roses
Beneath the windows were gone.
    Wily fool gardener! Stole my roses!

Not to be expected came back the uncouth gardener,
    "I'm sorry I couldn't help but pick 'em.
    I'll build you a garden instead."
But I need a home, a permanent home,
    Not a garden that may wither.

He started a garden I thought was beautiful
    And sweet which he tended
    Under the torrid heat,
But when the rain poured, he stopped the job and fled!

          Now it's June.
          Will the right architect ever come
          This coming rainy season?


From :
"Bank Notes," June 1972, the Official Newsmagazine
of Asian Development Bank, Manila, Philippines,
an international organisation,
serving the poor and developing nations.
Elmie has more poetry published in "Bank Notes."

 

 

 

Pauline et la Montagne

My knowledge in French was extremely limited - and still is now - when I wrote this poem. I thought, however, it was good to store it here as a souvenir and, perhaps, to entertain you.

Une fille maigre … c'est Pauline;
    Sans peur elle va dans la forêt,
Chercher la Montagne,
    C'est ce qu'elle voudrait.

                De la ville où elle habite;
                La Montagne semble petite;
                La Montagne qui la rend triste;
                La Montagne qui l'évite.

La Montagne n'est pas trop loin;
    Pauline peut y aller au moins.
Plus proche, elle la trouve très haute:
    Elles sont maintenant côte à côte.

                "Montagne, je voudrais vous escalader;
                Dites-moi si je pourrais essayer.
                Je vous trouve très belle et très gentille.
                J'habiterais là-bas, pas dans la ville."

"Pauline, tu est jeune, puerile;
    En étant ici, tu trouveras du peril;
Vas t'en et ne viens plus;
    Dépêche-toi notamment qu'il pleut!"

                Pauline ne sait comment faire;
                Elle l'aime mais la trouve sévère;
                "Pourquoi ne puis-je pas rester?
                Pourquoi ne pouvez-vous pa m'aimer?"

SOUDAIN!
il y a du vent, il pleut;
de la poussiere remplit ses yeux;
ça la fait pleurer.

Elle commence à s'en aller en pleurant,
   Mais la Montagne semble en sourire.
"Vous n'êtes pas triste de mon mécontentement?
   Au fond, c'est moi la seule qui suis souffrante."

                                   Elmie Yan, 1985

 

Elmie's admiration for Martina Hingis has taken her to the Martina Hingis Fan Community in January 2002.
This is a poem she has written for her one month after joining the group.

               
           Martina Hingis

M - is for the MELODY that your smiles create
A - is for the ART in your game that you project
R - is for the RHYTHM in that melodious art
T - is for the TALENTS entwined within such craft
I - is for your INTELLIGENCE beneath all that
N - is for your NEARNESS 'though you're far
A - is for our ADMIRATION for you, our SUPERSTAR !!

                                          Elmie, Moderator,
                               www.hingis.org, February 2002