Poetry Magazine, Hai Ning, May 2000

Hai Ning

USA

That Old Grandpa

That old grandpa, too old for the memory of all computers.
So old that my head aches if I try to remember all his smiles and their meanings.

He never complained throughout.
He quietly tolerated all our nonsense.
He has given his life to us and taken away all the pleasure of giving himself to us.

His existence dwindled and dwindled … finally into
a quiet, quiet smile – and fainted away.

Impossible to remember all that smile.
Impossible to understand all that smile.
Impossible to be able to smile like that, but I try.

He saw all 36 strategies performed, and he did none himself.
He already knew they are all useless, meaningless, pointless.
He just smiled and gave one, single heart.

I attended his departure ceremony,
while others defined it as a “funeral”.

Others depict him as “peaceful in his long rest”,
but I saw that quiet and bright smile – which he disclosed to me again, before the start of his joyful journey.

That old grandpa, now happy and free –
a baby again.

I know.

I know I do not know.