Poetry

This term I had the unexpected and rather sudden opportunity to teach writing to a group of Junior English majors. After slight hesitation, I jumped at the chance to try something new. I've been loving it, despite my lack of training to teach writing--or maybe because of it? There are very few rules (that I follow), and each week I get to try something new. Our first unit was poetry, which in my experience writing in a foreign language (Spanish) was very liberating. I was free from the constraints of linear grammar and constructions while writing poetry, which allowed me to play with the language for the first time.

Below is one poem I liked and thought I'd share with you. It is a counterpoint to the majority of poems that describe spring in Luzhou, blue sky, beautiful flowers, fresh air, etc. In my experience, this is the more accurate depiction of spring. The writer is describing a stream that runs into the larger river that flows by our campus and later into the Yangtze River.

Spring Is Approaching
Above [my] head, the sky looks sad, unbelievably grey.
Occasionally, birds fly over, dragging their bodies full of fatigue.
The road is zigzagging,
and numerous movable stones try to challenge our patience.
At the intersection of the road
a brook pops out from a long slope.
The water isn't as clean as it used to be.
Rubbish and thick white foam floating on the surface,
while weeds [lay] on the dirty water, dull and dying.
Rather than the hearty scent of green grass or the fragrance of flowers,
the air is pervaded by a thick disgusting smell.
Turning around, and to the edge of the road,
but for the thin and pale flower hiding in the fissure,
I nearly forget spring is approaching.
I have to thank the people or factories dumping their rubbish,
or else I [would] have no chance to see such a "spectacular [scene] of spring."