Poetry

Liu Yung - The Rain-soaked Bell

A cold cicada, sad and desolate,
Faces the long pavilion at twilight,
The showers having recently ceased.
Outside the city gate, drinking in the tent continues
without end.
I am about to linger awhile,
When the magnolia boat urges me to start my journey.
Holding hands, we look into each other's tearful eyes -
Without words, throats choked -
As I think of my voyage through a thousand miles
of mists and waves.
Where the evening clouds are somber and the distant skies vast.
Lovers have suffered since ancient times the
sorrows of parting.
How can I bear further my solitude in
this clear autumn season?
Where shall I be when I wake up from my drink tonight? -
Willow banks, the breeze at dawn, and the waning moon.
During this long year of separation,
All fine moments and lovely scenes will appear to me in vain.
Even if there are a thousand varieties of tender emotion,
To whom could I impart them now?



e.e. cummings - i have found what you are like

i have found what you are like
the rain

(Who feathers frightened fields
with the superior dust-of-sleep. wields

easily the pale club of the wind
and swirled justly souls of flower strike

the air in utterable coolness

deeds of gren thrilling light
with thinned
newfragile yellows

lurch and.press
--in the woods
which
stutter
and
sing
And the coolness of your smile is
stirringofbirds between my arms;but
i should rather than anything
have(almost when hugeness will shut
quietly)almost,
your kiss






Mary E. Frye - Do not Stand at My Grave and Weep

Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there. I did not die.



Robert E. Howard

THE TEMPTER
Something tapped me on the shoulder
Something whispered, "Come with me,"
"Leave the world of men behind you,
"Come where care may never find you
"Come and follow, let me bind you
"Where, in that dark, silent sea,
"Tempest of the world n'er rages;
"There to dream away the ages,
"Heedless of Time's turning pages,
"Only, come with me."

"Who are you?" I asked the phantom,
"I am rest from Hate and Pride.
"I am friend to king and beggar.
"I am Alpha and Omega,
"I was councilor to Hagar
"But men call me suicide.
"I was weary of tide breasting,
Weary of the world's behesting,
And I lusted for the resting
As a lover for his bride.

And my soul tugged at its moorings
And it whispered, "Set me free.
"I am weary of this battle,
"Of this world of human cattle,
"All this dreary noise and prattle.
"This you owe to me."
Long I sat and long I pondered,
On the life that I had squandered,
O'er the paths that I had wandered
Never Free.

In the shadow panorama
Passed life's struggles and its fray.
And my soul tugged with new vigor,
Huger grew the phantom's figure,
As I slowly tugged the trigger,
Saw the world fade swift away.
Through the fogs old Time came striding,
Radiant clouds were 'bout me riding,
As my soul when gliding, gliding,
From the shadow into day.