Wuji’s Moonlit Night


18

Facing snow, I sparkle with winter
Like tiny diamonds, carrying
Away my grieves, useless

Worries of the solitary snowflake
Falling ragged through the clouds
Snow dances with my feet

In the whirling wind, not green
The stove and my heart still
Look fiery red, through I cannot

Sit to read my books for grief
For grief is a dying thing
And Wuji hangs low with moonlight

Tonight, I watch the cosmic chambers
Alone, they don’t sink low like
They used to, when I was an astrologer

I do not see the jade arms of the stars
But together in brightness, through
The empty window, tears dried up.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/cuentos-de-domingo-427949260

Jade Dew


16

Jade dew are my hands
Jade dew are my feet
I walk from Autumn to Winter

Beneath the groves of maple trees
Memories within in the cold
Rivers freeze as waves rise

I am a lonely boat covered by snow
I must keep my heart to evening’s ends
Wuji to meet the night’s sky

Everyday I follow the road
To the Capital, so bleak with tears
That freeze before they hit the ground

Jade dew is my breath
Sad reed flutes in my head
I am a minstrel’s incense and song

Bathed in moonlight of a forgotten hour
This too shall pass, says the inner sage
I wait for quiet morning light

And the floating of forever-green
The coming of spring, when I am not poor
When upon the classics I may rest

In the wealth of the hopeful light
This world’s events seems too bitter
Hurried unlike my peaceful thoughts

I am too civil for civilisation’s unrest
The greed and corruption of the city
Has conquered the west, our palaces

Are now full of noblemen of a savage age
The Jade lake is now no more
Like shifting clouds, all has been changed

Bathed in a sun of dragon scales
The holy face I used to know is gone
Now I count the blue chains of our imprisonment

Pearls on curtains, embroidery on pillows
Tattoos on the poor, this land of emperors
Jade dew is my heart, I am of the server’s class

A peasant sees what others must ignore
I turn my head, sad now for the place of song and dance
That was once my home, I must leave it

Jade dew is my sweat, all waters move
To the same source, like the grandson of fishermen
Dew chills the lotus pond, fish are eaten

Oils are used, gold is hoarded
Beautiful women gathered to be used
I’ve lost the true image of life, growing old

My white head drones and gazes
Jade dew are the low branches, ah fragrant
The surplus is gone, but some things remain.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Asian-Mistique-57923544