To the tune of "Telling My Most Intimate Feelings"
When night comes,
I am so flushed with wine,
I undo my hair slowly:
a plum calyx is
stuck on a damaged branch.
I wake dazed when smoke
breaks my spring sleep.
The dream distant,
so very distant;
and it is quiet, so very quiet.
The moon spins and spins.
The kingfisher blinds are drawn;
and yet I rub the injured bud,
and yet I twist in my fingers this fragrance,
and yet I possess these moments of time!
Frustrations can't be overcome adopting wrongs and unfair means and ways, .........
The needs and wants of this mortal body while it is still a bud can be so frustrating. This poem is a classic example of 'how buds are crushed before they bloom'. Brilliant poem.
I cannot even imagine what the original text of this work is like in its native tongue, but the English translation is magical and evocative with great depth of imagery. Fantastic choice for classical poem of the day!
no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Excellent poetry. Enjoyed thoroughly. Such a nice weaving of words in to a poem.