This poem couldn't be more timely. Some reflections, tied to each stanza:
1: Last night I had a dream about trees falling in the woods; the night before the cats woke me up at 4:40 and I never got back to sleep.
2: Fortune and status? Neither was ever on the table, and as time flows by, they're even less likely to be. The Dao never falters; if we're looking for inspiration or models and don't find them, it's our own fault, because they're everywhere.
3. The state gives fools swords, has them do its dirty work, and nothing but misery follows; then it calls them heroes. Nothing has changed.
See? 1200-year-old Chinese poetry still resonates. Catch y'all next time for #20.
-----
悲慨
司空圖
大風卷水
林木為摧
適苦欲死
招憩不來
百歲如流
富貴冷灰
大道日喪
大道日喪
若為雄才
壯士拂劍
浩然彌哀
蕭蕭落葉
漏雨蒼苔
-----
"Forlorn"
Sikong Tu
Strong wind roils the
water
trees topple in the
forest
so miserable I want to
die—
rest beckons, but does
not come
A hundred years like a
flowing stream
fortune and status are
cold ashes
every day the great Dao
falters—
who will serve as
inspiration?
A hero unsheathes his
sword—
a flood of utter grief
mournful wind, falling
leaves
dripping rain on
grey-green moss
No comments:
Post a Comment