The Soul has Bandaged moments - When too appalled to stir - She feels some ghastly Fright come up And stop to look at her -
Salute her, with long fingers - Caress her freezing hair - Sip, Goblin, from the very lips The Lover - hovered - o'er - Unworthy, that a thought so mean Accost a Theme - so - fair -
The soul has moments of escape - When bursting all the doors - She dances like a Bomb, abroad, And swings opon the Hours,
As do the Bee - delirious borne - Long Dungeoned from his Rose - Touch Liberty - then know no more - But Noon, and Paradise
The Soul's retaken moments - When, Felon led along, With shackles on the plumed feet, And staples, in the song,
The Horror welcomes her, again, These, are not brayed of Tongue -
Alone, the hermit returns home to sleep. He's cleansed of cares by way of solitude. He gives thanks and praise to the geese on high For lifting feelings to grand altitude. Day or night, his mind holds no intentions, Who can sense his energy, so subdued? His flight and submergence self-limited, Where can he find calm, and still be renewed?
This is the third poem in 300 Tang Poems [唐诗三百首] as well as the third of a quartet of poems entitled Gǎn Yù [感遇] that open the collection. The original in Simplified Chinese is:
Faster than fairies, faster than witches, Bridges and houses, hedges and ditches; And charging along like troops in a battle, All through the meadows the horses and cattle: All of the sights of the hill and the plain Fly as thick as driving rain; And ever again, in the wink of an eye, Painted stations whistle by.
Here is a child who clambers and scrambles, All by himself and gathering brambles; Here is a tramp who stands and gazes; And there is the green for stringing the daisies! Here is a cart run away in the road Lumping along with man and load; And here is a mill and there is a river: Each a glimpse and gone for ever!
The wild winds weep, And the night is a-cold; Come hither, Sleep, And my griefs infold: But lo! the morning peeps Over the eastern steeps, And the rustling birds of dawn The earth do scorn.
Lo! to the vault Of paved heaven, With sorrow fraught My notes are driven: They strike the ear of night, Make weep the eyes of day; They make mad the roaring winds, And with tempests play.
Like a fiend in a cloud With howling woe, After night I do croud, And with night will go; I turn my back to the east, From whence comforts have increas'd; For light doth seize my brain With frantic pain.
Verdant orchid leaves of Spring; Cassia blooms bright in Autumn; Thriving plants, top to bottom. Festivals planned by their timings. Who knows the forest recluse -- Pleased with winds and winds with he. Plants have stems, branches, and roots Why beg a belle to pluck their fruits.
This is poem #2 of the 300 Tang Poems [唐诗三百首,] and is the second in a quartet of poems called 感遇 [Gan Yu.] The original poem in Simplified Chinese goes:
I'll tell you a plan for gaining wealth, Better than banking, trade or leases — Take a bank note and fold it up, And then you will find your money in creases! This wonderful plan, without danger or loss, Keeps your cash in your hands, where nothing can trouble it; And every time that you fold it across, 'Tis as plain as the light of the day that you double it!
Tiger Riding for Beginners 