DAILY PHOTO: Tatev Monastery
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The poet stands in the Center
And stares into deep mysteries.
He's nourished by reading Classics
And tombs of the men in Histories.
He sighs as four seasons pass by
And thinks upon ten-thousand things.
He's saddened by Autumn's leaf drop
And gladdened by the tender Spring.
He feels Winter's frost on his heart,
Though his mind may be up in a cloud.
And when he sings of ancestors'
Heroic deeds, he belts the song aloud.
He combs through great literature
Just as he roams the forest wild,
But in search of a "natural" --
Shown in elegant phrase and style.
And it's just such thoughts and feelings
That set my brush and mind wheeling.
The Original Chinese:
佇中區以玄覽,頤情志於典墳。
遵四時以嘆逝,瞻萬物而思紛。
悲落葉於勁秋,喜柔條於芳春,
心懍懍以懷霜,志眇眇而臨雲。
詠世德之駿烈,誦先人之清芬。
游文章之林府,嘉麗藻之彬彬。
慨投篇而援筆,聊宣之乎斯文。
No TV series. Though there might be episodes of “Seinfeld” that I’ve seen that many times (but others I may have never seen at all.)
Re: Movies: “Kung Fu Hustle,” “The Matrix” (the first one,) and “Kung Fu Panda” (the first one.) Nothing else comes to mind, but there probably are some. (Back from the days when cable ran the same content over and over.)
Five times is a lot of times to watch the same thing. If it’s really good, it will be too mentally / emotionally draining to watch repeatedly. And if it’s too bad, it will be tedious to do so. It needs to be in the sweet spot of light, but incredibly entertaining.
Becoming Ghost: Poetry by Cathy Linh CheNo. I’ve trained myself to recognize factors, such as selection bias, that contribute to superstitions. And I try to hold all beliefs only so tightly as they can be shaken away by better understanding, particularly beliefs that aren’t strongly supported by experience and reason.
Asleep on a leaf beneath lotus blooms,
Their fragrance floats across the misty lake.
Sudden rain - taps upon the canopy;
Its sound snaps me from sleep to wide awake!
The lotus is beaded with rain droplets --
Like pearls, drops roll together and apart;
The clear blobs coalesce like mercury,
Dripping to the river... back to their start.
A horde of sunflowers
Grows on thin stalks
With big, bright heads
That tilt chin-upwards.
Could they stand so tall
And proudly if they weren't
Packed against each other?
When one bitch-slaps a sunflower,
One expects its head to fly
Clean off, but it just does
An angry little head bobble,
And goes about its business,
Looking skyward...
Though - occasionally - one breaks
Into a sad nod.