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  • Writer's pictureThe Beverly Arts

"De Kooning's Woman" - A Poem

Updated: May 11, 2022

Author: Joey Zhou

Translation from Chinese: Joey Zhou

Music: YouTube link -

Willem De Kooning is a Dutch-American contemporary abstract artist. After his death in 1997, a personal biennale was held in New York, smashing a $4 billion art exhibition record that is unmatched in the world today.

It's a mashup poem. If you understand, it doesn't have to be a master, it will definitely be the most "beautiful friend" in Maupassant's "Life."

"Woman III" by Willem De Kooning (1953)

Not just memories in nightmares,

Not just shouting in memory,

And tears are shining...!

De Kooning's woman!

The snow gradually melted on the grassy hillside

You said, you will come to see me in spring, what about people?

Picking up that leaf,

Melancholy or melancholy stream!

That was the creek in 1967, she just saved a young life in the creek where the vegetables were washed lightly; and then disappeared into the smoke... the deceased is like a suffocate, reluctant to give up day and night.

De Kooning's woman!

It was the summer of 1971. She handed him the roasted sweet potato. It was obvious that there was still scorched earth on her face, and then she disappeared into the chimney... Oriental Venus.

De Kooning's woman!

It was the snowy winter of 1974. She took his hand step by step and walked to the street of the sweet shop, and then disappeared in the temple... The sea was dry and the stone was rotten.

De Kooning's woman!

It was the golden autumn of 1997, and when the leaves were all over the ground, there was a weeping sound from the Dutch town of Michigan... The woman who was desperately riding on a horse and trying to fly.

De Kooning's woman!

The snow is clean to my heart, but the ruthless earth still cannot be left behind... Let the rose petals fly in my dreams!

Come on, it's all empty arias and memories...

All hanging in the moonlight on the treetops!

OK, let's go back to Paris!

What was the wailing and misery of 1893?

it doesn't matter...

You have given all your genius to the world.

On his last deathbed in 1893,

When everyone in Paris starts to forget your footsteps,

Only when you struggle to lick the lime marks on the wall in pain,

I remember that I was more aggrieved and sighed than "La Traviata";

Pain to numbness and relief

Loneliness is deep in love

Don't cry, Vanya

Here are roses and daisy

You were radiant and beautiful

Like a song, like a song, like a song andante...

Some problems will turn into tears even if they stop

Some tears will become memories despite the sadness

Just like the sky, pattering, swirling rain

fall to the ground...

Some memories are cut off in fear and never in a trance

Some backs fear cruelty and never die

Just like the earth, the mountains are tall and straight

Across North America...

Is there an island in the ocean of memory where memories can rest?

Do you still have your footprints on the snowy road in winter?

Past roses

Fragrance remains

Pain rose

Fond memory

Time flies, tears are hazy,

The past is unbearable to look back, in the grievances;

Time and space are intertwined with deep affection,

Yesterday, today, and tomorrow in anticipation;

Leave the tears,

Goodbye sorrow,

All love and hate are in the words.

In the end it hurts.

Not just memories in nightmares,

Not just shouting in memory,

And there are tears...

De Kooning's woman.

(Written on April 27, 2017 )

The Beverly Arts News is sponsored by JH International Art Institute



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