My love is in a light attire
Among the apple trees,
Where the gay winds do most desire
To run in companies.
There, where the gay winds stay to woo
The young leaves as they pass,
My love goes slowly, bending to
Her shadow on the grass.
And where the sky’s a pale blue cup
Over the laughing land,
My love goes lightly, holding up
Her dress with dainty hand.
My silks and fine array,
My smiles and languish'd air,
By love are driv'n away;
And mournful lean Despair
Brings me yew to deck my grave:
Such end true lovers have.
His face is fair as heav'n,
When springing buds unfold;
O why to him was't giv'n,
Whose heart is wintry cold?
His breast is love's all worship'd tomb,
Where all love's pilgrims come.
Bring me an axe and spade,
Bring me a winding sheet;
When I my grave have made,
Let winds and tempests beat:
Then down I'll lie, as cold as clay.
True love doth pass away!
I have wished a bird would fly away,
And not sing by my house all day;
Have clapped my hands at him from the door
When it seemed as if I could bear no more.
The fault must partly have been in me.
The bird was not to blame for his key.
And of course there must be something wrong
In wanting to silence any song.
The night is clear, even pristine --
A nightscape in silver moonlight.
"Yes, please! Pour me a bowl of wine.
Don't skimp! take it up to the brim."
And why should I chase wealth and fame
When it is sure to end in vain?
Events pass like a horse's sigh,
A spark on stone, or dream travel.
I can put out my ideas,
But who'll accept them as the truth?
Why shouldn't I just live happily
And innocently, like a child?
I could go back to carefree days
When life's trifles weren't torturesome.
Just me, my lute, a pot of wine,
And the stories drawn by the clouds.
NOTES: Song Dynasty Poet, Su Shi, was also known as Su Dongpo. The translated title of this poem also varies. In Deep, Deep the Courtyard, translated by Xu Yuanchong, it is entitled, “Song of Pilgrimage.”
In caverns below the city lives a beast, reviled. It's fierce and ancient and patient -n- won't come up unless riled. When you read of disappearance: kidnapped or ran away? It might be neither one, rather, it's breached the light of day. So, if this beast is not one you wish to look in the face, When you take to song and dance: don't stomp or over-Bass!
I rue the hearing of that tune
like a sandworm from planet Dune
it burrowed from ear to brain
where its bouncy pop egg was laid
but when the alien overlords arrive
fresh out of intergalactic drive
sitting parked up in our Thermosphere
we’ll offer them a welcome beer
they’ll think us weak in being kind
until we lodge that f@#%ing tune in their hive-mind
watching them gyrate in a spastic dance
their minds melted in a Zombie trance
like lemmings they’ll plummet from the ship
with that infernal tune on all eight lips
[National Poetry Month: Poem #5]
Tiger Riding for Beginners 