“Drunk in the Fairyland” by Huang Tingjian [w/ Audio]

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In the face of heavy morning cloud again
   And drizzling evening rain,
 Leaning on each other, rugged the hills remain.

The Gorge of Witch and lofty peaks
   Lock in the Southern Palace rosy cheeks.

In spring the halberds move in force,
   Maids in fair dress welcome heroes on horse,
 To the riverside town they go only.

I come to the wasteland a thousand miles away,
   With my shadow so lonely.

How can I become cheerful and gay?

It is said the Southern land is so high,
   It nearly scrapes the sky.
 To the capital I stretch my eye,
   I see but misty water far and nigh.

When I drank in the hall,
   My friends were talents all.

Songstresses sang with rosy face
   And dancers danced with grace,
 Drunk, they intoxicated the place. 

Hearing the cuckoo's home-going song
   All the night long, 
 Could I resist my yearning strong?

Translation: Xu Yuanchong [translator]. 2021. Deep, Deep the Courtyard. [庭院深深.] Cite Publishing: Kuala Lumpur, pp. 191-192.

PROMPT: Every Day

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Daily writing prompt
What do you wish you could do more every day?
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Move playfully.

Submerge [Haiku]

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a turtle
 slips into the water:
  no sound / no ripple.

Aesthete Levels [Free Verse]

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       Anyone
 can see beauty 
     in the flawless.

       Artists
 can see beauty 
     in the flawed.

       Sages
 can see beauty
     in chaos.

DAILY PHOTO: Three Qatari Museums

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Qatar Islamic Cultural Center
National Museum of Qatar
Museum of Islamic Art, Doha

“Ode on Solitude” by Alexander Pope [w/ Audio]

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Happy the man, whose wish and care
   A few paternal acres bound,
 Content to breathe his native air,
                    In his own ground.

Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread,
   Whose flocks supply him with attire,
 Whose trees in summer yield him shade,
                    In winter fire.

Blest, who can unconcernedly find
   Hours, days, and years slide soft away,
 In health of body, peace of mind,
                    Quiet by the day,

Sound sleep by night; study and ease,
   Together mixed; sweet recreation;
 And innocence, which most does please,
                    With meditation.

Thus let me live, unseen, unknown;
   Thus unlamented let me die;
 Steal from the world, and not a stone
                    Tell where I lie.

PROMPT: Tattoo

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What tattoo do you want and where would you put it?

I have no interest in tattoos. I’m with the Buddhists on “all is impermanence” and the idea that there is some message that would be poignant for the rest of my days seems silly and unlikely.

Plus I’ve seen so many bad ones: faces that look demented, Chinese characters that make no sense (and/or are upside-down or sideways.) So, no thanks.

BOOKS: “One Hundred Poems of Kabir (1915)” Translated by Rabindranath Tagore

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One Hundred Poems of KabirOne Hundred Poems of Kabir by Kabir
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

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Kabir was a fifteenth century Indian poet and mystic. This collection was translated by the Bengali Indian Nobel Laureate Rabindranath Tagore, and Tagore’s stylistic imprint is felt in these poems. The poems are overwhelmingly of a mystic / spiritual nature. Kabir was non-sectarian but extremely oriented towards mystic belief. He references the Koran and Vedas alike, but is more likely to communicate in secular, if mystical, terms.

How much the godly emphasis works for the reader will vary greatly. For me it was a bit excessive, often reading more like prayers than poems, but your results may vary.

The only thing I found actually disturbing was the repeated romanticization of sati, a practice in use during Kabir’s lifetime in which widows would be burned alive on their husband’s funeral pyre. Kabir repeatedly writes of sati as if it was always a completely voluntary act of raw passion and connection and was never motivated by being old and destitute (not to mention being societally pressured or, even, physically forced into it.)

The poems are well composed and engaging, and if you can get past the periodic sati propaganda, it’s a pleasant, almost euphoric, read.

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DAILY PHOTO: Let Sleeping Tarsiers Lie

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BOOKS: “Constantine, Vol. 1: The Spark and the Flame” by Ray Fawkes & Jeff Lemire

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Constantine, Vol. 1: The Spark and the FlameConstantine, Vol. 1: The Spark and the Flame by Ray Fawkes
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Amazon.in Page

This is your basic “race to acquire the components of a multi-part MacGuffin” story line. There is a magic compass that John Constantine is eager to keep out of the hands of a shadowy organization of powerful magicians. Why do we care? First of all, because this is a vaguely but extremely powerful artifact that can rain utter destruction on the world in some ill-defined way. Secondly, because Constantine is just such an intriguing character. Mostly the latter, because the former is ill-defined and doesn’t merit much emotional traction.

That’s mostly what the story is about, but there are various seemingly haphazard story elements (probably too many for the first volume in a series.) This being marketed as a “Volume One” is where much of the book’s problems lie. We pick up pretty much in medias res and when an event occurs that we’re supposed to care about enough to want to see a resolution late in the volume, it’s really hard to care about because it’s been raced through. If you are picking this up after reading the previous series, it’s undoubtedly much more satisfying as a story. Picking up the story with this “Volume 1” is a bit chaotic and lacking in emotional resonance.

That said, John Constantine is one of the most interesting characters in comics and he’s written and drawn well in this book. (Not to mention supporting characters like Papa Midnight.) The story is fast-paced and the broad brushstrokes of it are comprehensible.

If you’ve read the previous Hellblazer / Constantine works, you’ll probably enjoy this volume. Taking it on as a standalone may leave one a bit befuddled.

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