First, a few announcements.

Konstantinos FaHs has another article published following up on his Synchronized Chaos pieces about ancient Greek myths and their continuing role in modern Hellenic culture. He’d like to share his piece in The Rhythm of Vietnam, which is a Vietnamese magazine with a mission that seems similar to our own.

Also, disabled contributor, lyric essayist, and ALS activist Katrina Byrd suffered hurricane damage to her home and seeks support to rebuild and make ends meet while she’s getting ready to move. Whatever folks can contribute will make a real difference.

Now, for our new issue: Chaos Does Not Exclude Love. The reverse of a phrase from a review of Elwin Cotman’s urban fantasy collection discussing how Cotman’s work was from a loving place yet made room for the complexity of the world. At Synchronized Chaos, we are intimately acquainted with the world’s nuance and chaos, yet we see and find room for empathy and connection.

Neven Duzevic reflects on travel memories and reconnecting with an old friend. Dr. Perwaiz Shaharyar speaks to the awesome and transformative power of romantic love. Dr. Prasanna Kumar Dalai reflects upon the intensity of romantic feelings. Duane Vorhees speaks to loneliness and heartbreak and sensuality and various forms of human-ness. Kristy Raines speaks to the beauty of love and the tragedy of heartbreak.

Harper Chan reflects on his bravado and the reality of his feelings in the past year. Mickey Corrigan’s poetry shows how psychological and cultural shifts and traumas can manifest in our bodies. Abigail George speaks to how support from friends and family and a commitment to live in the present rather than reliving old traumas can help those addicted to drugs. Alan Catlin mixes cultural memories and touchstones with personal and societal losses.

Vo Thi Nhu Mai offers up a poetic tribute to the international vision of fellow poet Eva Petropolou Lianou. Greek poet Eva Petropoulou Lianou interviews Bangladeshi poet S. Afrose on how she hopes poetry and joint exploration through literary sci-fi will obliterate the need for war. Dr. Jernail Singh laments that morality and compassion have become passe to a generation obsessed with modernity and personal success. Priyanka Neogi speaks to the beauty of carrying oneself with noble character. Maria Koulovou Roumelioti urges us to remember the world’s children and create love and peace as Anwar Rahim reminds us to live with kindness and courage.

Mykyta Ryzhykh speculates on whether love can continue to exist amidst war. Haroon Rashid pays tribute to Indian political leader Dr. A.P.J. Abdul Kalam, who loved peace but led through strength. Christine Poythress reflects on how easy it is for a once-proud and free nation to slide into fascism simply by admiring the fascist aesthetic and its seductive power. Ahmed Miqdad renders a global tragedy in simple terms: he’s too scared to go back to his home in Gaza to water his cactus plant.

Lili Lang probes the meaning behind things that seem simple: the work of a hairdresser, a family packing up the belongings of a recently deceased grandmother.

Mahmudova Sohibaxon offers up a tribute to dependable and caring fathers. J.J. Campbell writes of the visceral love and physical work of aging and caregiving, of inhabiting an elderly and a middle-aged body. Taylor Dibbert’s poetic speaker embraces age with joy, thrilled to still be alive. Bill Tope crafts an expansive and welcoming vision of perfection that can welcome more types of people and bodies as Ambrose George urges the world to maintain an open mind towards gender roles and identities.

Leslie Lisbona pays tribute to her deceased mother by writing a letter catching her up on family news. Stephen Jarrell Williams considers endings and beginnings and the possibility of renewal. Asma’u Sulaiman speaks to being lost and then found in life. Cheng Yong’s poetry addresses ways we hide from each other and ourselves, physically and psychologically. Mahbub Alam wishes for a romantic connection that can extend and endure beyond Earth. Dibyangana’s poetry touches on love, grief, and personal metamorphosis. Mely Ratkovic writes of spiritual contemplation and the nature of good and evil. Lilian Dipasupil Kunimasa describes souls who turn away from greed and evil and heal, in smaller and larger ways. Christopher Bernard suggests that creativity and storytelling might play a part in what makes life worth enduring.

Brian Barbeito speculates about intention and communication with the universe. Svetlana Rostova speculates on what spirituality might mean in the face of a seemingly indifferent world. Shamsiya Khudoynazarova Turumnova’s piece conveys spiritual ecstasy, love, and beauty.

Sandro Piedrahita’s story highlights the power of enduring and sacrificial spiritual devotion in the midst of our human-ness.

Chimezie Ihekuna engages with the talents, creativity, and limitations of being human. Dr. Jernail Anand looks at human creativity and at AI and draws a comparison, encouraging humans to continue to create. Jasmina Rashidova explores what motivates people in the workplace. Eva Petropoulou Lianou interviews Turkish poet Bahar Buke about fostering imagination and connection through her work.

Paul Durand reflects on teaching first-grade music in a time of hatred and divisiveness. Su Yun collects the thoughts and observations of a whole selection of schoolchildren in China about nature and their world.

David Sapp reflects on how he wishes to always appreciate the egrets and lilies, sailing off into nature amid the various bird voices of the wild world. Mesfakus Salahin rhapsodizes about flowers and giddy spring romance. Soumen Roy celebrates the simple joy of butterflies and tea. Sayani Mukherjee speaks of an enduring oak tree in summer. Poetry from Eva Petropolou Lianou, translated to Italian by Maria Miraglia and Arabic by Ahmed Farooq Baidoon, celebrates life lessons from nature. Liang Zhiwei reminds us of the power and vastness of nature, before and after the era of humanity. Nuraini Mohammed Usman sends up a sepia photograph of a tire hidden by a leafing young tree.

Jibril Mohammed Usman shares a photograph of a person looking into nature, at one with and part of his world, altered in the same way as the trees and house. Mark Young’s geographies play with and explore Australia from new angles, turning maps into works of art.

Jerome Berglund and Christina Chin stitch ideas and images together like clotted cream in their joint haikus. Patrick Sweeney’s two-line couplets explore a thought which ends in an unexpected way.

Odina Bahodirova argues for the relevance of philology as an academic discipline because of its role in preserving cultural wisdom encoded in language and the ability of students to understand and think critically about language. Sevinch Shukurova explores the role of code-switching as a pedagogical tool in language learning. Surayo Nosirova shares the power of an educator giving a struggling student tutoring and a second chance. Nozima Zioydilloyeva celebrates Uzbekistan’s cultural accomplishments and women’s education within her home country. Mardona Marjonova honors the history of the learned Jadid Uzbek modernizers.

Nazeem Aziz recollects Bangladeshi history and celebrates their fights for freedom and national identity. Poet Hua Ai speaks to people’s basic longings to live, to be seen and heard. Leif Ingram-Bunn speaks to hypocrisy and self-righteousness on behalf of those who would silence him, and self-assertion on his part as a wounded but brave, worthy child of God.

Z.I. Mahmud traces the mythic and the heroic from Tolkien to Harry Potter. Poet Hua Ai, interviewed by editor Cristina Deptula, also wonders about the stories we tell ourselves. She speculates through her work about what in the human condition is mandatory for survival and what is learned behavior that could be unlearned with changing times.

Synchronized Chaos contains many of the stories we tell ourselves about ourselves and our world. We hope you enjoy and learn from the narrative!

‎The Flowerless Spring
‎
‎Oh spring!
‎Beloved spring! 
‎Don’t ask me without flowers
‎I and flowers are in the same vase
‎Believe me! Believe me!!
‎
‎Oh spring!
‎Dear spring!
‎Don’t love me without love
‎I and love are twins
‎Trust me! Trust me!!
‎
‎Oh spring!
‎Musical spring!
‎Don’t invite me without the tune of dream
‎I and tune live in heart
‎Stay here! Stay here!!
‎
‎Oh spring!
‎Sincere spring!
‎Come here with words of heart
‎Your words are my words
‎Make me dreamy! Make me dreamy!!
‎
‎Oh spring!
‎Caring spring!
‎Hold my time with silver moon
‎The moonlit nights are my pen’s verses
‎Give your hand!  Give your hand!!
‎
‎Oh spring!
‎The queen of love
‎l just miss you
‎I need you to compose a poem
‎Give me rain! Give me rainbow!!
‎
‎Oh spring!
‎Lovely spring!
‎Love is not in the rest
‎Hear the song of the rivers
‎Make me flowery! Make me flowery!!
‎
‎Oh spring!
‎Sweetest spring!
‎I need a tiny hut of poems
‎We will get lost there
‎To search the light of love.
‎Bless me! Bless me!!
‎
‎

The Bridge of Second Chances

Eliot Rivers was once a name whispered with admiration in the corridors of Oakville High. A natural leader, an academic achiever, and the captain of the school debate team, his future was painted in bright hues by everyone who knew him. Teachers predicted Ivy League acceptance letters, classmates envied his eloquence, and his parents believed they were raising a young man destined to change the world.

But Eliot was hiding something beneath the glow of success—a growing fear of imperfection. The pressure to remain excellent became a burden he could not share. He stopped enjoying what he loved and started fearing failure more than anything else. One mistake felt like the end of the world. When he received his first B+ in literature during senior year, he broke down. It wasn’t the grade itself—it was what it represented: he wasn’t invincible.

From that moment, Eliot changed. He began skipping classes, withdrawing from competitions, and isolating himself from friends. Rumors spread. Some said he was just tired, others guessed he was dealing with personal issues. But the truth was simpler and sadder—Eliot no longer believed in himself.

By the time graduation rolled around, Eliot wasn’t on the stage. He barely scraped through with passing grades. While others were sharing college acceptance letters, Eliot sat in silence, watching his dreams fade away like smoke from a fire he no longer had the will to rekindle.

One year passed.

Eliot found himself working at a coffee shop near the edge of town. He didn’t mind the quiet routine. He poured coffee, wiped tables, and tried not to think about what could have been. The occasional recognition by old classmates stung more than he cared to admit.

One rainy afternoon, as Eliot was wiping down a table, the door chimed and in walked a woman he didn’t recognize—middle-aged, with sharp eyes and a kind smile.

“You’re Eliot Rivers, aren’t you?” she asked.

He nodded, wary but polite.

“I heard you speak at the state debate finals two years ago,” she continued. “You were remarkable.”

Eliot smiled faintly. “That was a long time ago.”

“I don’t believe talent has an expiration date,” she said with a glint in her eye. “I’m Dr. Wren. I work with a youth center a few towns over. We help students who’ve lost their way.”

He frowned. “I’m not sure I’m who you think I am.”

“I think you’re exactly who we need,” she replied. “Not as a student—but as a mentor.”

Eliot froze. “A mentor?”

Dr. Wren nodded. “Someone who’s tasted both success and failure. Someone who can speak to teenagers not from a place of perfection, but from understanding. You’ve been through the fall. That’s powerful.”

Her words dug deep. That night, Eliot couldn’t sleep. His thoughts wandered to the idea of being useful again—not as someone perfect, but as someone real.

Three weeks later, Eliot stood before a group of ten teenagers at the youth center. Nervous, palms sweaty, heart pounding, he introduced himself.

“My name is Eliot. I used to think failure was the end of everything. But I learned something more important: sometimes, falling is the only way we learn how to rise.”

It wasn’t a grand speech. But it was honest. And for the first time in a long while, Eliot felt the spark of something that had once burned brightly in him.

Week by week, he met with the group. They talked about dreams, fears, broken homes, anger, and guilt. Eliot didn’t have all the answers, but he listened. He guided. He encouraged. One of the boys, Mateo, who had been suspended three times for fighting, began writing poetry. Another, Lena, who had dropped out of school, enrolled in a GED program.

Eliot started reading again—books he once loved, like To Kill a Mockingbird and The Alchemist. He found joy in small victories and rediscovered his voice. He began journaling his journey—not as a roadmap to success but as a bridge between brokenness and healing.

One evening, Dr. Wren pulled him aside.

“I’ve watched you grow, Eliot,” she said. “There’s a scholarship program for aspiring educators—people who want to help others the way you’ve been helping here.”

Eliot’s first reaction was doubt. “I’m not sure I’m cut out for college anymore.”

“You’re not the same Eliot who gave up,” she smiled. “You’re stronger now. Not because you’ve avoided failure, but because you’ve walked through it.”

He applied.

He got accepted.

And three years later, Eliot stood at a podium at his graduation from the university’s school of education. His speech was titled “The Bridge of Second Chances.” He told the story of a boy who once feared failure more than anything, and how that fear almost drowned him. But then, someone believed in him. Someone offered not a ladder of success, but a bridge of hope. He walked across it, slowly and shakily—but he made it.

After his speech, he was approached by a young man with tears in his eyes.

“Your story is mine,” he said. “I’ve failed, too. But you made me believe I can start again.”

And Eliot realized that this—this moment of connection, of healing, of shared humanity—was what he was born to do.

He became a teacher.

But not just a teacher of subjects. He taught life. He taught resilience. He taught the value of second chances.

Years later, when his own students would stumble, Eliot wouldn’t scold them. He’d sit with them, look them in the eye, and say:

“Do you know what bridges are made for? Crossing. Even the broken parts. Especially the broken parts.”

—

Moral of the Story:

Failure isn’t the end of the road; it’s often just the bend that takes you on a better path. Everyone deserves a second chance—especially when they think they don’t.

Surayyo Nosirova Elyor qizi was born on May 13, 2006, in the Narpay district of the Samarkand region, Uzbekistan. From an early age, she showed a deep interest in literature, languages, and creative expression. Her passion for learning and writing became evident during her school years, where she actively participated in various academic, literary, and cultural activities.

Currently, Surayyo is a first-year student at the Uzbekistan State University of World Languages, specializing in English Philology and Teaching. She is known for her strong academic performance and her dedication to mastering the English language. Her commitment to education extends beyond the classroom—she is the author of three published books: Heartfelt Thoughts, Voices in Writing, and Beyond Words: Mastering English. Each of these works reflects her insights into language learning, writing skills, and the emotional depth of student life.

In addition to her books, Surayyo has written numerous articles and short stories that have been featured on various literary platforms and online magazines. She is an active participant in youth development programs, literary competitions, and creative workshops, including camps such as the Anim Camp organized by the Youth Affairs Agency of Uzbekistan.

Surayyo also leads and contributes to several student initiatives, including reading competitions and motivational projects like the “Readers’ Championship,” which encourages young people to engage with literature in innovative ways.

Through her writing, leadership, and academic achievements, Surayyo continues to inspire her peers and the younger generation. She is a passionate advocate for education, self-expression, and lifelong learning, aiming to make a meaningful impact on her community and the future of language education in Uzbekistan.

Gender roles in society

Beyond the Binary: Gender Roles and the Diplomacy of Open Minds

Introduction: The Personal and the Spiritual

In a world that is increasingly interconnected, how we understand and respond to gender roles is more than a cultural footnote—it is central to our spiritual journey, governance, development, and personal relationships. Gender roles, as outlined in the Bible, are not fixed ideologies etched in stone; they are dynamic, evolving, and deeply contextual.

My own experience is proof of this paradox. In my family, gender roles have profoundly shaped the way we relate to one another. The traditional expectations we inherit dictate our responsibilities and aspirations, yet an underlying discord remains: each of us operates within the cusp of our acceptance and understanding. This limitation constrains our ability to evolve beyond preordained roles—yet the capacity for change exists, if only we make space for it.

A Brief Historical Backdrop

Historically, gender roles have been constructed through a complex web of religion, economics, war, labor, and culture. Ancient matrilineal societies like the Minangkabau in Indonesia or the Iroquois Confederacy in North America stood in contrast to the patriarchal structures of ancient Rome or feudal Europe. With the Industrial Revolution came a rigid divide: the public sphere for men, the domestic for women.

The 20th century shattered many of these binaries. World Wars I and II saw women entering the workforce en masse. The feminist movements—from the suffragists of the early 1900s to the second-wave feminism of the 1960s and intersectional feminism of today—challenged inherited norms and demanded new paradigms of equality and representation.

But progress is not linear. In some families and communities—including my own—tradition persists, creating tensions between progress and resistance.

Personal Reflections: The Limitations of Acceptance

Growing up, gender roles shaped my family’s dynamics in ways that often felt immovable. There were clear expectations—who was responsible for earning, who managed household affairs, who was granted emotional space, and who bore the invisible weight of cultural obligations. Yet, as our world evolved, these once-fixed roles felt increasingly impractical, if not outright restrictive.

At times, I saw my father wrestle with the idea that nurturing was not solely a maternal trait. I observed my mother balance professional aspirations against unspoken pressures to maintain domestic harmony. My siblings and I, in different ways, have questioned why we must conform to roles dictated by tradition rather than individual potential. This disconnect—between the roles we inherited and the realities we live—demands dialogue, effort, and an openness to change.

Case Studies: The Global Friction in Gender Roles

This struggle is not unique. Across the world, individuals and institutions grapple with the limits imposed by gender roles.

Example 1: The Japanese Corporate Landscape

Japan, a country known for both tradition and technological advancement, continues to struggle with gender equality in the workplace. Despite progress, corporate hierarchies often reinforce expectations that women should prioritize family over career. The result? Women frequently face the “M-shaped curve”—leaving the workforce after childbirth with limited re-entry opportunities. But change is happening policies advocating for parental leave and inclusive work environments are slowly reshaping these structures.

Example 2: South Africa’s Shift in Household Dynamics

In South Africa, gender roles intersect with economic realities. Historically, patriarchal structures placed men as primary providers. Yet, with shifts in employment trends and societal expectations, women increasingly assume financial leadership in families. This transition is not always met with acceptance, leading to conflicts where traditional masculinity clashes with contemporary survival needs.

Example 3: The Rise of Nonbinary Identities in Legal Frameworks

The recognition of nonbinary identities in countries such as Canada, India, and Germany marks a significant departure from historical gender binaries. However, legal acknowledgment does not automatically translate to social acceptance. Individuals navigating gender fluidity often encounter resistance—not due to inherent opposition, but because established frameworks struggle to adapt.

Why Keeping an Open Mind Matters

Open-mindedness is not about abandoning one’s values—it’s about making room for other realities. In diplomacy, this is especially vital. Misunderstanding gender roles in a host country can derail peace talks, foreign aid programs, or education campaigns. In everyday life, failing to listen to different experiences creates exclusion and resentment.

In my own family, I’ve seen that the mere act of listening—without immediate rebuttal—creates opportunities for dialogue that were once impossible. Understanding precedes transformation.

Five Ways to Keep an Open Mind About Gender Roles

Interrogate Your Assumptions

Ask yourself where your beliefs about gender roles come from—family, religion, media—and whether they still hold true in the face of new evidence.

Listen Without Rebuttal

Let people speak about their experiences without preparing a counterpoint. Listening is not the same as agreeing, but it opens the door to understanding.

Consume Diverse Narratives

Read books, watch films, and follow thought leaders from different genders, cultures, and identities. Empathy grows through exposure.

Be Comfortable with Discomfort

Growth often comes from discomfort. If something challenges your worldview, sit with it. Ask why it feels threatening.

Update, Don’t Cancel

You’re allowed to evolve. Holding a belief ten years ago doesn’t make you irredeemable—it makes you human. Be open to changing your mind.

Conclusion: The Diplomacy of the Self

Gender roles are no longer dictated solely by tradition or biology—they are in dialogue with economics, technology, global mobility, and generational change. In that dialogue, the most effective diplomats are those who can listen deeply, adapt respectfully, and think critically.

In my own life, I have seen that acceptance and understanding are the first steps toward change. A family, a workplace, a nation—none transform overnight. But a modicum of effort can create ripples that extend far beyond personal experience.

An open mind is not a passive one. It is a powerful tool for transformation—of policies, institutions, and most importantly, of ourselves.

---

References

• Beauvoir, S. de. (1949). The Second Sex.
• Butler, J. (1990). Gender Trouble: Feminism and the Subversion of Identity.
• Maathai, W. (2006). Unbowed: A Memoir.
• Geena Davis Institute on Gender in Media. (n.d.). https://seejane.org
• UNESCO. (2019). Gender Equality: Heritage and Creativity.

UN Women. (2024). Progress of the World’s Women Report.

For the Drug Addict in the Northern Areas of Gqeberha (Port Elizabeth)

We are living in a Renaissance, the African Renaissance. Attachment to the anticipation for the future arises from having high levels of a false construct that is held deeply within our core, where our personality resides, and rooted in our consciousness. Addiction arises from need, the need for freedom. The addict needs love. They get unconditional love, self–worth, a feeling of no regrets, self-love, love of self that is unselfish, all-encompassing kind of love and self-acceptance from the ‘fix’. The addict needs to feel accepted despite the mistakes they have made in the past. If and when the past does not exist for the addict they feel safe.

They begin to self-regulate their nervous and auto-immune system. The addict wants control. They want to control the high, the elation they receive from the substance they are consuming recklessly, without any thought to the injury they are doing to their brain. Does the addict live in the past, constantly bringing up painful memories from a conditioned childhood that they had no control over? It is a form of insanity to live in the past. This is a simple and profound statement that leads to understanding what Deepak Chopra said, that addiction has to do with karma. All humanity has a higher intelligence.

This exists in the animal world as well. You cannot escape now. The addict exists in the past. They relive past trauma, adverse childhood experience. There is an attempt to control the pain, the thoughts of the environment they found themselves in as a child where the trauma took place, the persons who hurt them as a child, adolescent or adult. Addiction arises from the mentality and mindset of having not received access to love from the same-sex parent or either parent and not having received adequate care, concern and unconditional love from parent, authority figures like a teacher, uncle, aunt, grandmother or grandfather, elder, church leader. Nobody asks what the addict needs. The addict requires a life of intention. They need to cultivate habits that will restore and renew good health, a sound mind and body. They understand on a subtle level that addiction will lead to their downfall in society, overdose and even death.

Therapy can lead to a happier existence for the addict, talk therapy, joining a support group, receiving support from a loving and attentive partner who is an effective listener, and believing in a religion. They need the company of a good friend or friends that they can participate in meaningful activities with who is also an effective listener and who offers them support. There are tools that are instrumental for our survival and communication. For example, our thoughts, emotions and feelings are part and parcel of that survival.

The now is what we experience in the present tense, the fleeting moment that  is gone in a second and that can never be replaced. Change and transformation can take place in the drug addict’s life but only with the loyal support of their family. Isolating the drug addict will never work because they too need a community (see promiscuity, sexual misbehavior, rape, gangs, gangsterism and gun violence). Religion also has its role to play in the foundation and education of the psychological framework of the individual. Healing and recovery can take place. It is the addiction that is the residual effect of abnormal thinking, incorrect habits cultivated over time and brain damage. The addict’s brain is indeed damaged and not just by the abuse of substances but by not adopting society’s norms and not living by and accepting religious values and views, and ideas.

The notion of time is ever-present at the back of our minds as we, the human race, humanity, chart our course in this world. The world a drug addict lives in is a world that is unpredictable. The addict feels unsafe, deeply unloved, misunderstood, misrepresented, rejected, isolated and alienated from his peer group, his contemporaries. They face self-doubt and insecurity on a daily basis. For the most part they are unemployed, although there are individuals who suffer from and crave illegal substances who try to go out into the world and seek gainful employment. There is a stigma that exists in modern society against a drug addict in recovery. People feel they cannot trust a drug addict and that they haven’t really changed. They are just going to steal to support their drug addiction.

With aging comes grace and acceptance. Acceptance is a key equivalent to love, and so are accepting our past, accepting our shared history with family members, siblings, parents, aunts and uncles and cousins. I believe there is a genetic code within all of us that pre-empts what is going to happen in our lives but nevertheless human choice, individual choice, and the choice of the collective, the choices we make, whether good or bad, choices that give us, our brain, our physical bodies cellular networks, our psychological framework and network negative or positive feedback can also inspire the lives we lead at the end of the day.

What the drug addict wishes to do by taking, imbibing, consuming, injecting, abusing the illegal substance or buying over the counter prescription medication is to mask, veil, cover the trauma they were exposed to, experienced or witnessed, whether it was verbal, emotional, physical or sexual assault. I state this explicitly. The community can help. It starts with the family unit. Listening, accepting, talking, not rejecting, and not isolating the drug addict, because isolation can result in suicide ideation, relapse and hospitalization (a long period away from home). The drug addict comes from a dysfunctional family unit/background, a weak family unit. The drug addict possesses intelligence. They know and sometimes acknowledge that they are harming themselves. Addiction affects the entire family.

Humanity Grows Cold in the Wind’s Howl

Spring flaunts its wild, dazzling passion across the fields,

Summer’s blazing hues vanish beyond the skyline,

Autumn arrives in gilded splendor,

leading a tribe of carefree immortals—

only to fade into winter’s bleak, snow-lit silence.

The Earth was never truly ours,

its soil long stained crimson with cold-blooded fury.

Thick snow blankets nature’s desolation, its indifference,

while melting patches expose the brutal history of beasts—

their savagery, their slaughter.

Only the wind understands humanity,

watching generations thrive and wither

amidst the drizzle’s murmur,

leaving behind untold secrets.

In the depth of blackened stillness,

a sound erupts—

a wolf-king’s simulated shriek, so piercing

it tears the night sky asunder,

scattering frozen stars upon the ground.

Who doesn’t yearn for the Earth to reclaim

its primordial grace?

June 12, 2025, Liang Garden, Shanghai

Liang Zhiwei is a famous antique collector and poet in Shanghai. Editor of the supplement of Shanghai Labor News. Member of the World Chinese Poets Association.

The years that the night is judged by the sun

The years that the night is judged by the sun

Whistle blowing became unpredictable weather

Owls, weasels in dark holes

Even ants

In the age of brightness

don’t know where to go, alley

With countless lyrical faces

The leaves of the trees smile with delight

and you’re hiding from the dawn

In the darkness of the night

On the street, Once you meet the people

Invisible body

Hide your evil and stand still

Shiver or deliver the fear

• Flowers and flowers, mutual suspicion

At that time, I did not understand

My home is planted with the flower of sin

Arguing in this convicted garden

Flowers and flowers, mutual suspicion

Why and where

I just find out

Alone, with my back to the sun, thinking

Eventually, the rhizome is broken and out of the land

And the birds fly back from afar

Staring blankly at the sky

Difficult to find the nest at dusk

Time drinks down sorrow

Often looking for a man called Zen

Trying to put puzzles on the side of the road

Waiting for the birds to pass through

Feeling the wind in this direction

In the ahead Inn, with the gap on the white wall

Time  drinks down sorrow

The shabby house is old for a long time

No a drop of wine can be added to the drinker any more

The cracking windows seem to guide

you into yesterday

And into the mottled wheat field

（Tr. By Amy）

Cheng Yong, born in Shanghai. Writing poetry and cultural relic appraisal. 21 literary and cultural relic appraisal works have been published. Selected International Poems of the Chinese and Foreign Writers Association (Editor in Chief), novels “Delingha Prisoner” and “The Beauty of the Official Kiln”. The long poem “A Thousand Line Elegy” was published in the United States, among others.