I look at my life (After Su Tung Po)
Through a night vaster
than the sea, I walk under trees
hung with sagging leaves.
The day disappears,
as music disappears,
but still echoing in the mind.
I’m reaching for something,
I will never find.
Wind rustles the leaves
as lightly as a feather,
then blows off like a dream.
When they pass by,
clouds look at nothing,
like men who can
no longer ask why.
The moon, once so bright,
is a dim light
in a razor sharp sky.
I think my life has been a lie.
After the fall (After Mei Yao Chen)
I stare at the dying flowers in my garden.
They lie like dessicated corpses
with discolored heads.
If my wife were here, she’d revive them,
but she’s also dead.
Is there a heaven for dead flowers?
I think not. But I don’t know a lot.
Night holds me in her arms.
as if I were an unknown child,
abandoned in a desolate spot.
I feel a sense of loss in my bowels.
Stars crawl across the sky like bugs,
who wander blindly
over that vast rug.
I think life will never be how it was,
but I think the way it was
was only in my mind.
And I that was unfair,
and it was terribly unkind.
Emptiness (After Tu Fu)
For a year my wife’s been dead.
I finish my sixth glass of wine,
and stare at my unmade bed.
Outside, a chilling breeze
rustles the dead leaves.
The moon is a ball of lead.
I gaze at the distant stars.
Lost in an infinite sky,
they too have nowhere to abide.
A tattered shirt hanging from
A tree, waves in the breeze.
I feel the approaching cold.
I watch traffic pass me by.
Suddenly, I know
what it means to grow old.