Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore – From The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe. Photo credit Sandra Spencer

Let me sparkle this somber chamber,
I bring glitters of stars,
Effulgence of moon,
Glimmers of firefly, brilliance of the sun,
Please show me the way.

Let me melodize this melancholic chamber,
I bring songs of nightingale,
Symphonies of waterfalls,
Lyrics of lakes, rhapsodies of winds,
Please give me the key.

Let me color this snowy chamber
I bring hues of rainbow
Scarlet of roses, emerald of gladiolus,
Amber of tulips, sapphire of hyacinths
Please open the door.

Let me incense this parched chamber
I bring fragrances of lavenders,
Scents of lilacs, aura of lilies,
Perfumes of jasmine,
Please hear my sighs.

Why still fast asleep in dreary chamber?
What if you are lying beneath?
I am here to meld in this soil,
Close with you in this dark vault,
Please listen to me.

© 韩瑞雅 Han Rui Ya



My blushing

comfy you

in your dull

picture in 10 words¬



The gloomy sky illuminated with sparkling bursts,
With hues of green, red, blue, orange and yellow,
So the cosmos is bathed in golden shimmers,
Crackles, sputters mingling with laughters,
And the earth is dancing in jubilation.

I stand alone in the middle of this gathering,
My heart exploding with agony,
Soul sizzle in the blazing love,
And flash is melting in passionate misery,
This is how the Fire Works upon me.

© 韩瑞雅 Han Rui Ya

prompt: fireworks


This week’s WOLF PUBLISHING writing challenge.

A nebulous decree in celebration.

In the morning before it dawns,
Sitting at the shore of Cyprus,
Remembering those creative desires,
A Morning Star glimmers the sky.

When Sun glitters all surrounding blues,
Foam emerges in the ocean’s middle,
Shimmering beauty arises so pure,
Garlands grace her head seductive.

Swans flying around this charming,
She holds cithara to lure her lovers,
Stepping into the Garden of Love,
She turns to me and eyed passionately.

I run to catch my beauty hurriedly,
Air is sensual with the scent of desires,
She is no where but her wreath and cithara,
Again I am standing alone in agony.

© 韩瑞雅 Han Rui Ya


A sonnet composed on our love’s grave.

O, look at this blooming red apple tree,
Pleasant green boughs dancing with singing bird,
Lush grass, sparkling creek and our soul swirls free,
In starry nights, united our hearts purred.
We sow its seed as token of our love,
Alone, I visit this cemetery,
European garlands waving above,
Shed my tears, watering sweet memory.

Ah! creamy butterfly sucking nectar,
One apple flower wavers with the breeze,
Clouds whisper, gentle rain starts with fervor,
Sky with surroundings sob, all spirits squeeze.
Scents of red wreaths some fresh others decay,
I long to see you here again one day.

© 韩瑞雅 Han Rui Ya


Your acerbic words
Piercing my heart
Acutely and cut
It into pieces.

At barbed fence of love,
This tangled soul
If moves;
Sharp ahead,
Biting backwards,
Writhe in agony.

© 韩瑞雅 Hán Ruì Yǎ

Astringent in 29 words ¬


Oh, you come again,
Standing alone at this shore
Throwing prickly stones
One after another
Just to see these ripples, or
Hear this splash,
and enjoy as a child.

But can you feel the wounds
these pricks make?
how they carve in my soul
and bleed?

Surely, NOT.
You can only stand at this shallow beach,
You dare not to jump in these waters.
Your hands deserve thorny stones,
Soft oceans beds and
The treasures beneath, are
Not for you.

What do you think,
These prickly stones are
Buried in my depths;
They are rolling still,
Mutilating this spirit.

I invite you to come daily and
throw these prickly stones,
to make your hands bleed.

© 韩瑞雅 Hán Ruì Yǎ