This is my Chinese translation of Jeff Schwaner’s poem. My reading is in Cantonese
(c) Mary Tang
Last Poem of Spring
Boxing up books. It is almost summer.
So many different flowers are packed in
the small flower garden. Gin and tonic
in a jar with ice, as light leaks away.
There are the dead, the lost,
the memories floating in patterns
like fireflies, their season starting
with a wild inland storm, mountains
disappearing behind the gray wall