Friday, May 01, 2020

Some Poem Drafts

Sons and Daughters

I never had much to begin with.
I never knew the road to take.
All of my plans are seed ungrowing,
crumbled to dust all things I made.
I've laughed and cried
in much the way of mortal men;
I've smiled and sighed,
again, again, again.
Looking back I see an endless road
of errors made, mistakes uncaught,
with all those failures bricks in Babel
that never reached the sky I sought.

But this I know, my sons and daughters:
I fought with valiant heart and true.
Though many things I did not understand,
I did my honest best for you.

My wishes somehow turned to ashes,
my hopes would rarely bear their fruit.
So many treasures lost in shadows!
So many dreams withered at root!
I've closed my ears
to voices all around me;
I was so blind
for I did not wish to see.
When I repent, my tears well up like a river.
I took my chance on where the coins would fall,
my every deed was reckless as a gamble;
I did not win. Perhaps I lost it all.

But this I know, my sons and daughters:
though my works fade, I leave to you
the mountains, heavens, fields, and waters
which your fresh eyes may see anew.

Fragment of an Epic

Speak, O music Spirit, of the high Moon
and, bursting into legend out of life,
the ways and doings of the starward men
who rose like eagles to the argent light
and drove the black star-road to lunar lands;
of the twelve who walked, the Earth in their sky,
in deserts where no air nor water flows,
but also of those patient men who sailed
around the moon in never-ending fall
and, too, of those who aided them in flight.


She laughed,
a dancing fountain
liquid with joy
light sunray-ballerinas
glittering in golden beam
and full of fluid smiles.

His heart
in aquiline sunrise
took wing in fiery blaze,
each feather sparking
at each exalting beat.


First Day
Long Kiss
Fun Months
Wedding Bells
Crying Kids
Hard Times
Little Wins
Old Age
Final Hours
Endless Hopes

Du Fu's Spring View

the empire is fallen
mountains and rivers stand

the city is in spring
it is thick with grass and tree

one feels the time
the flowers drop tears

distressed by distance
the birds alarm the heart

the beacons are aflame
lasting for three months

a letter from home
costs ten thousand gold

my white hair
is scratched ever shorter

the whole thing soon
will not hold a hairpin

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