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Posted by on Apr 19, 2017 in ACE Learning Center, ACE School Report, Continuing Education | 0 comments

SF International High School Poets Perform on Stage at Hamilton

By Chupe, ACE Poetry Contest Mascot, San Francisco International High School

Ready to write my poem! But how do I hold the pencil in my paw?

I know I’ve got poems to share, but I’m still really struggling with getting them out onto paper. Maybe it’s the paws. Lobo, how did you do it?

Luckily, the young poets at San Francisco International High School are showing that poetry is sometimes just as good performed live. On Wednesday, they went to see Hamilton, An American Musical (before this young pup’s time, but I hear it’s a phenomenon) with 2,000 other students from San Francisco.

Leading up to the play, 11th and 12th graders studied the founding era of the United States and produced their own creative pieces about the time period. Two 11th graders, Yawen and Jinghao, wrote a poem about the Boston Massacre in Chinese and in English. (See it below in both languages.) Their performance was selected by the Hamilton cast, and they performed it live on stage at the Orpheum Theater.  Check it out here:

SFIHS students rock attending the play Hamilton!

Talk about pressure to get my own poem written…

Big congratulations to our poetic performers.

Many wags and woofs,

Chupe

八时的钟声响彻云霄,

革命的号角悄然响起。

时间仿佛停顿了几秒,

一团接一团雪球飞出。

在阴霾的天空下滑行,

划下僵硬杂乱的曲线。

高傲的红衣染上雪白,

虽冰冷却传递着愤怒。

人们的呼声渐渐涌起,

如洪水般淹没制止声。

突兀的枪声拔地而起,

苍白的雪地染上血色。

那是句句无声的控诉,

那是阵阵凄怆的呼喊。

蜂拥而至的自由之子,

踏着鲜血的步伐前行。

讯息如同野火般蔓延,

是非争议如暴雪卷袭。

怆惶失措的红色身影,

渐渐消逝在海岸线中。

 

It is a cruel spring day.

Eight in the evening,

The ringing of the bell resounded to the sky,

symbolizing the horn of revolution.

As if the time had stopped for a few seconds.

The icy snowballs flew through the night,

leaving a messy curve under the skies.

The red coat dyed with the soft-white,

under the ruthless is endless anger.

The call of people swell like a wave,

and destroy the enemy like a flood.

The sound of gunfire rises up,

blood drops down like the rains;

the red dyed with white snow field.

It was a silent indictment,

It was the voice of the miserable.

The son of liberty,

with the steps on blood.

The names of the victims will not be forgotten,

The message is like the wild fire,

spread out around the whole country.

People dispute the build-up of power,

protest against British troops.

Thousand people joined the funeral procession for the dead.

With the praise of victory,

Red coats fade away in the coastline.

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