Li-Young Lee Poems
|3.||Arise, Go Down||3/11/2015|
|7.||The Father's House||1/13/2003|
|10.||Out Of Hiding||1/13/2003|
|11.||For A New Citizen Of These United States||1/13/2003|
|12.||This Hour And What Is Dead||1/13/2003|
|15.||This Room And Everything In It||1/13/2003|
|17.||Dreaming Of Hair||1/13/2003|
|19.||Visions And Interpretations||1/13/2003|
|22.||The City In Which I Loved You||1/13/2003|
|24.||Early In The Morning||1/13/2003|
|26.||I Ask My Mother To Sing||1/13/2003|
I Ask My Mother To Sing
She begins, and my grandmother joins her.
Mother and daughter sing like young girls.
If my father were alive, he would play
his accordion and sway like a boat.
I've never been in Peking, or the Summer Palace,
nor stood on the great Stone Boat to watch
the rain begin on Kuen Ming Lake, the picnickers
running away in the grass.
But I love to hear it sung;
how the waterlilies fill with rain until
they overturn, spilling water into water,
then rock back, and fill with more,
Both women have begun to cry.
But neither stops her song.
The Father's House
Here, as in childhood, Brother, no one knows us.
And someone has died, and someone is not yet
born, while our father walks through his church at night
and sets all the clocks for spring. His sleeplessness
weighs heavy on my forehead, his death almost
nothing. in the only letter he wrote to us