“Song of the Open Road” (4 of 9) by Walt Whitman [w/ Audio]

The earth expanding right hand and left
hand,
The picture alive, every part in its best light,
The music falling in where it is wanted, and
stopping where it is not wanted,
The cheerful voice of the public road, the
gay fresh sentiment of the road.

O highway I travel, do you say to me Do
not leave me?
Do you say Venture not--if you leave me
you are lost?
Do you say I am already prepared, I am
well-beaten and undenied, adhere to me?

O public road, I say back I am not afraid to
leave you, yet I love you,
You express me better than I can express
myself,
You shall be more to me than my poem.

I think heroic deeds were all conceiv'd in the
open air, and all free poems also,
I think I could stop here myself and do
miracles,
I think whatever I shall meet on the road I
shall like, and whoever beholds me shall
like me,
I think whoever I see must be happy.

“Song of the Open Road” (3 of 15) by Walt Whitman [w/ Audio]

You air that serves me with breath to speak!
You objects that call from diffusion my
meanings and give them shape!
You light that wraps me and all things in
delicate equable showers!
You paths worn in the irregular hollows by
the roadsides!
I believe you are latent with unseen
existences, you are so dear to me.

You flagg'd walks of the cities! you strong
curbs at the edges!
You ferries! you planks and posts of wharves!
you timber-lined sides! you distant ships!

You rows of houses! you window-pierc'd
façades! you roofs!
You porches and entrances! you copings and
iron guards!
You windows whose transparent shells
might expose so much!
You doors and ascending steps! you arches!
You gray stones of interminable pavements!
you trodden crossings!
From all that has touch'd you I believe you
have imparted to yourselves, and now
would impart the same secretly to me,
From the living and the dead you have
peopled your impassive surfaces, and the
spirits thereof would be evident and
amicable with me.

“Song of the Open Road” (2 of 15) by Walt Whitman [w/ Audio]

You road I enter upon and look around, I
believe you are not all that is here,
I believe that much unseen is also here.

Here the profound lesson of reception, nor
preference nor denial,
The black with his wooly head, the felon,
the diseas'd, the illiterate person, are not
denied;
The birth, the hasting after the physician,
the beggar's tramp, the drunkard's stagger,
the laughing party of mechanics,
The escaped youth, the rich person's
carriage, the fop, the eloping couple,

The early market-man, the hearse, the
moving of furniture into the town, the
return back from the town,
They pass, I also pass, any thing passes,
none can be interdicted,
None but are accepted, none but shall be
dear to me.

“Song of the Open Road” (1 of 15) by Walt Whitman [w/ Audio]

Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open 
road,
Healthy, free, the world before me,
The long brown path before me leading
wherever I choose.

Henceforth I ask not good-fortune, I myself
am good-fortune,
Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone
no more, need nothing,
Done with indoor complaints, libraries,
querulous criticisms,
Strong and content I travel the open road.

The earth, that is sufficient,
I do not want the constellations any nearer,
I know they are very well where they are,
I know they suffice for those who belong to
them.

(Still here I carry my old delicious burdens,
I carry them, men and women, I carry them
with me wherever I go,
I swear it is impossible for me to get rid of
them,
I am fill'd with them, and I will fill them in
return.)

“Some keep the Sabbath going to Church –” (236) by Emily Dickinson [w/ Audio]

Some keep the Sabbath going to Church --
I keep it, staying at Home --
With a Bobolink for a Chorister --
And an Orchard, for a Dome --

Some keep the Sabbath in Surplice --
I, just wear my Wings --
And instead of tolling the Bell, for Church,
Our little Sexton -- sings.

God preaches, a noted Clergyman --
And the sermon is never long,
So instead of getting to Heaven, at last --
I'm going, all along.

“The Joy of Words” by Lu Ji [w/ Audio]

Writing is joy --
so saints and scholars all pursue it.

A writer makes new life in the void,
knocks on silence to make a sound,
binds space and time on a sheet of silk
and pours out a river from an inch-sized heart.

As words give birth to words
and thoughts arouse deeper thoughts,
they smell like flowers giving off scent,
spread like green leaves in spring;
a long wind comes, whirls into a tornado of ideas,
and clouds rise from the writing-brush forest.

Translation by Tony Barnstone and Chou Ping in The Art of Writing (1996) Boston: Shambhala.

BOOKS: “The Romance of the Three Kingdoms” by Luo Guanzhong

Three Kingdoms (4-Volume Boxed Set)Three Kingdoms by Luo Guanzhong
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Publisher Website – Penguin

The edition that I read was the Penguin abridged version that fits this sprawling epic into a single volume of a little over 600 pages. This is one of the four Great Classics of Chinese literature (along with Journey to the West, Water Margin, and Dream of the Red Chamber.) It offers a fictionalized telling of a period of Chinese history featuring a three-way civil war, especially centered upon the Han attempt to maintain its Imperial line against challengers, a fight that would ultimately end in the reunification under the Jin.

I’ve loved reading the Chinese classics. While this book and Water Margin feature massive ensembles of characters and could become clunky and cumbersome to read, they don’t because stories are told in intense battle-sized chunks and with a profound capacity to build character hooks that maintain clarity despite so many characters.

I would break this book up into three parts. The first (and by far the bulk of the story) focuses on a trio of great warriors that form a kind of blood-brother pact: Xuande, Guan Yu, and Zhang Fei. Under Xuande’s leadership, these men fight to keep the Han imperial line intact. (It’s fair to say it could also be seen as focusing on the opposition to these men, notably Cao Cao.) The next bit continues the action as the masterful strategist, Kong Ming, tries to keep the wheels rolling on Xuande’s army after the dramatic deaths of the aforementioned trio, and finally there is a section in which it is as though all the great warriors are gone, resulting in an inevitable reunification as there are no longer those who can fight insurmountable odds. As I describe it, it might seem anticlimactic, but it is far so, but I would count it a tragedy.

To me, this book read more like historical fiction than did Water Margin, the latter (also excellent) is almost like fantasy: its characters are so much larger than life as to be veritably superhuman. That said, this novel does feature some magic, but the characters feel much more life-sized — if not without a measure of grandiosity.

I’d highly recommend this book for readers of historical fiction. It’s highly engaging and readable, despite being long and of epic of proportions.

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“Ebb” by Edna St. Vincent Millay [w/ Audio]

I know what my heart is like
Since your love died:
It is like a hollow ledge
Holding a little pool
Left there by the tide,
A little tepid pool,
Drying inward from the edge.

BOOKS: “The Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar” by Paul Laurence Dunbar

The Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar (AmazonClassics Edition)The Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar by Paul Laurence Dunbar
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Available online at Project Gutenberg

As the title suggests, this is all the published poetry of Paul Laurence Dunbar. With a career pre-dating the Harlem Renaissance, during which lyric poetry ruled the roost, Dunbar may not be as well-known today as several of the African American poets who came later, but it’s not for being any less masterful.

The collection includes a wide variety of lyric forms from simple quatrains to intermediate length poems of several pages. The content and tones also vary, and there is often a sense of whimsy in the poems that goes beyond just being lyrical in form. Dunbar wrote both in dialect and in standard English. He was a big fan of James Whitcomb Riley’s dialectal work, as a poem in Riley’s honor attests. The dialect poems are easy enough to follow and are a pleasure to read. Dunbar was by no means limited to dialectal writing; he also wrote in Standard English cleverly, and the juxtaposition of his very “proper” poems and the dialectal ones shows a great range.

I’d highly recommend this collection for poetry readers, particularly those who enjoy lyric and dialectal poems.

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“Without desire everything is sufficient” by Ryōkan Taigu

Without desire everything is sufficient.
With seeking myriad things are impoverished.
Plain vegetables can soothe hunger.
A patched robe is enough to cover this bent old body.
Alone I hike with a deer.
Cheerfully I sing with village children.
The stream under the cliff cleanses my ears.
The pine on the mountain top fits my heart.

Translation by Kazuaki Tanahashi and Daniel Leighton in Essential Zen (1994) HarperSanFrancisco.