Seeing North Light

Monday, September 29, 2014

On Dreaming of Li Po
by Tu Fu

i

I’ve kept silent

no-one knows my anguish

who doesn’t feel sad

when a friend leaves

but when they sent you away

I was so overcome with grief

it was if you had died

since they exiled you in the South

among fens and swamps

I haven’t stopped thinking of you

though I’ve heard no news

until last night

when you appeared in my dreams

you’re imprisoned in such darkness

you’re so far away

how could you find wings to fly to me?

was it your ghost?

when you appeared

shadows lifted

everything was green

when you were gone

there was darkness

overpowering the mountains

moonlight passed through the trees

shone onto the rafters

somewhere your face

shone vaguely

old friend

be careful!

a storm approaches

those swamps are deep

don’t let the river dragon catch you

ii

still south bound clouds pass by

you who went with them

haven’t returned

for three nights I’ve dreamt of you

cheered by your company

when we said goodbye

I saw anxiety in your face

struggle is never ending

your way home is hard

storms are approaching

your boat may capsize

you left your door

scratching your white head

dismayed at your treatment

while others enjoy favor

you were cast out

downtrodden sad

growing old

lonely

if this be your fate

there is no justice in the world

don’t be ashamed

mix misfortune with your old age

think only of your fame

your fame will last forever

let loneliness take care of itself

Tu Fu

translated by David Sen

interpreted by Dick Russell

Saturday, September 20, 2014

Merlin

He sits by a river under some elms

on green moss throwing speckled stones

or if you choose he can rattle some bones

in a magical cloth and read them

he can work with playing cards

or with the palm of your hand

even throw cowries into the sand

but he dislikes working with entrails

picture him wearing his conical hat

its comical pattern of three pointed stars

if you look deep in his eyes

you’ll see galaxies spiraling away

his morning customers are cuckolded drones

there’s no harm in change he charges them

but he lightens their load by throwing the stones

lady love is a dangerous mistress

he sits by a river and the breezes that blow

are counting the fingers of oak leaves

lost in love’s labyrinth they go to see him

he shows them out soothes their pride their peeves

although he’s an expert on species

on herbs flowers quaint remedies

he never has understood romance

he’s always found love un-mathematical

when young scoundrels come in the evening

he’s getting tired he’s had quite enough love

he tells them bluntly deals low blows sudden

surprises comeuppances such as yours

he sits on a hillside under a moon

priapic staff pointing out its crescent

preferring to commune alone with stars

than shudder in solitary public bars

when owls glide by on noiseless wings

he takes off his cloak launches up by stealth

into the sky to mingle with breezes

as night sails on towards winter's wheezes

he exists out there in a spacious void

together with other life that has passed

in a miasmal-like colloid state

Merlin could tell us could we but ask

(a different version published in

Chapman Vol III. No 4: Dick Russell issue,

Editors: Walter Perrie, Joy Hendry, R. R. Calder

1975)

Tuesday, August 26, 2014

A man a woman once

Venus overhead

traversing Mumbai’s Marine Drive

Thames Embankment

arm-in-arm
crossing pools of lamp light

electricity connects them

vanishing from sight

two people he and she

transiting two planets

Tuesday, July 29, 2014

December

across an icy wooden bridge

seeded by floating frozen leaves

a stream’s dark waters

slowly freezing

green wood delivered

stacked in spring

her hair tied by a scarf

like day-split alder

no need for firewood now

but ritual demands a holly bough

her hair elegant like silver birch

a grandchild has that scarf

while all about him wild birds warned

even the fledgling robin they had raised

too cold to snow unseasonably chill

a man whose axe will cleave a tree

Monday, May 26, 2014

The Wizard

for Robert Russell Calder

if rhymes were grappling hooks & his life hung

by a thread he would throw a rhyme that chimed

with a plane passing overhead loop around

a weather vane haul himself to safety

with a perfectly timed swing to a rooftop

like a beltless Tarzan impressing Jane

dressed in a python skin his bare hands killed

for only he’d been brave enough and skilled

can words cause impact rhymes renew strike chimes

that ring through time can words heal damage

coarse sentences wrought or even suture wounds

can words save lives magic make alter moods

they can declaimed by wizards in disguise
making music from even plangent cries