After A Heavy Snow

                                                     By Parker Po-Fei Huang



                                                        A bank of whiteness

    

                                                           Is all I see. Have I


                                                       tossed away the world


                                                         or the world me? Or


                                                           is it just a single


                                                      moment that I stand on


                                                          a sheer precipice


                                                        with clouds passing


                                                               through me?



                                                      Some mists sweep the


                                                       sky. Some stars elicit


                                                         serenity. I feel that


                                                         I am gathering the


                                                      reflections of a flower


                                                     in the water and that of


                                                     the moon in the mirror—


                                                       no scent, no motion,


                                                        yet I sense eternity.



                                                       I stop breathing lest


                                                       I wake myself. From


                                                      where, of what world,


                                                       have I come here? I


                                                      turn my head and see


                                                     there are only footprints


                                                             that follow me.






Saturday, January 12, 2008

Professor Jiang Jia-Jun Memories

Dear Mr. Ben Huang:

     收到你的来信, 得知伯飞老师仙逝,深感悲痛.你兄弟二人一定要节哀, 特别要安慰你们的老母并请转达我对她老人家的慰问.

因为我不熟悉电脑操作, 下面就是我对伯飞老师的回忆,请代我发到回忆伯飞老师的博克上.

     惊悉伯飞老师仙逝,泫然久之.1983年秋我在耶鲁英语系作访问学者时 ,由张充和女士介绍有幸认识了伯飞老师.从此我得以聆听老师教诲,真是三生有幸.老师当时在耶鲁东亚语系任教,他不仅精通中国古典文学,英文修养也特别高.我当时就感到这样博古通 竦睦舷壬倭更难得的是伯飞老师平易近人,为人十分谦逊,对晚辈非常关爱.我不仅常去他家作客,他还常常为我在耶鲁食堂买饭和他一道共进午餐.记得他还亲自驱车带我去欣赏新英格兰的秋山红叶.我当时发现不仅红叶美极了,使我感到惊诧的是那些充满勃勃生机的黄叶,我对老师说,在我家乡四川江津,树叶一到秋天就枯萎,从未见过叶子在秋天还这样美丽, 而且还显现出一派生机.老师告诉我说,一是树木不同,二也许是土壤有别吧. 我还记得他房中有一幅单条,上书"一卷离骚灯影里", 是他的一位朋友送他的,书法极精.当我坐在他的书房里,面对着这位慈祥和蔼面带微笑和你交谈的老人,我真的感觉如坐春风化雨之中.

今后再也无法聆听老师的教诲了,我多想能再次坐在你的书房啊!再听一次你那我熟悉的声音!哪怕只有三分钟!不!一分钟也好!我多想能再握一下你那瘦弱但是温暖的老人之手啊!可是今后再也不可能了!此时此刻, 眼泪已模糊了我的双眼.记得不偿失1984年秋,在我即将告别老师离开耶鲁回国时,黄伯飞老师赠给我不少英美文学方面的书籍,对我后来的教学帮助极大.葆真师母还专门为我到超市去买一些厨房的日常用具,如开罐器之类,我从师母那儿 寤岣惺艿搅司梦サ哪赴你迁居加州之后还赐书给我和内子.伯飞老师,我受赐于你太多了,我知道你是多么热爱祖国的山河大地和伟大的中华传统文化!你的道德文章都是我们所推崇和学习的揩模.

不久我将为西南大学育才学院外语学院三年级的同学作几次英美诗歌系列讲座,我一定要让我的学生知道你是一位伟大的学者,光荣的好老师,让他们也和我一道永远怀念您!永远把您作为我们学习的榜样.伯飞老师, 安息吧!

                        2008.1.10下午 后学江家骏于重庆西南大学外国语学院挥泪成此
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黃伯飛病逝 12日辦喪禮

Please click here to view Parker Huang's obituary in the World Journal News (Chinese).
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Jack Belkin Memories

I knew Parker only through his son Ben. When we adopted our daughter from China he agreed to write a letter in elegant Chinese to the orphanage director expressing our pleasure at the good care she had received there.

I rarely saw Ben's father out of the company of Ben's mother. They seemed a matched set.
Best wishes to Ben and his whole family.

It is a hard thing to lose a father. I learned that five years ago.

--Jack Belkin
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Charles Sheehan Memories

I knew him as both intstructor and colleague at Yale. Both experiences were great.

Parker was a regular contributor to the Sunday Times poetry section. He was also in my circle of friends in New Haven back in the 60s that included Walter Tevis (The Hustler and The Man who Fell to Earth), Mike O'Malley (Small Town Blues and Every Day By Storm), and a number of poets and artists who were there at the time.

Parker was both friend and teacher to me and I am sad to hear of his passing.

I guess we are all at that stage in life that reminds us of our own mortality, but it also reminds us of those who have touched our lives in positive ways, subtle ways, that have given us direction and guidance down paths we would have otherwised missed along the journey.

Charles Chick Sheehan
USAF 1955-1956
IFEL Staff 1961-1963
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