The wanderer's home is just over the horizon
Or so he must believe.
Tell me there is no end to suffering
So I may find relief.
- Hu Ming-Xiang
Friday, January 28, 2011
Monday, January 24, 2011
Bhimsen
R.I.P. Bhimsen Joshi (1922-2011)
When you sang the Malhar
we could hear the trees growing,
hear the wood’s ancient
longing for rain,
your voice a season
exquisite with languor,
wild thunders tamed
to the purposes of song.
The night you sang Vande Mataram
we wanted to sing along,
your voice on the loudspeakers
flattened, distorted,
yet deep enough to contain
all our contradictions:
fifty years of freedom
and a tradition
older than grief.
That’s why I have to believe
you will outlast this pyre,
your throat an ember
burning pure and blue,
a constant outpouring,
at the center of the fire, a flame
endlessly wavering, endlessly true.
When you sang the Malhar
we could hear the trees growing,
hear the wood’s ancient
longing for rain,
your voice a season
exquisite with languor,
wild thunders tamed
to the purposes of song.
The night you sang Vande Mataram
we wanted to sing along,
your voice on the loudspeakers
flattened, distorted,
yet deep enough to contain
all our contradictions:
fifty years of freedom
and a tradition
older than grief.
That’s why I have to believe
you will outlast this pyre,
your throat an ember
burning pure and blue,
a constant outpouring,
at the center of the fire, a flame
endlessly wavering, endlessly true.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Remembrance
prayer, heartbreak, memory
future, present, past
all the ways to mourn
pray, love, remember
You
future, present, past
all the ways to mourn
pray, love, remember
You
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
The Open Window
Who is it reaches in through my window
A thief, or the moon?
Let the winds cover my room with dust
I hear the cicadas singing.
- Hu Ming-Xiang
A thief, or the moon?
Let the winds cover my room with dust
I hear the cicadas singing.
- Hu Ming-Xiang
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Better off
Returning from the war, you said nothing
And I, who had waited, felt betrayed.
Until I remembered my far-off sister
Who got back nothing but the news.
- Hu Ming-Xiang
And I, who had waited, felt betrayed.
Until I remembered my far-off sister
Who got back nothing but the news.
- Hu Ming-Xiang
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Magpies
One by one the birds have taken
Slivers of straw from the scarecrow's breast.
Here I am left alone forsaken
And you far away in your well-lined nest.
- Hu Ming-Xiang
Slivers of straw from the scarecrow's breast.
Here I am left alone forsaken
And you far away in your well-lined nest.
- Hu Ming-Xiang
Tuesday, January 04, 2011
Regret
You want me to tell you this is not the way out.
It isn't. But only because I never you let in.
You want me to tell you it is not time yet. And it isn't. It's tomorrow. Or the day before.
A speck of sand. A pinch of dust. A grain of ash. A mote of salt. Something sticks in the hourglass' throat.
You spend time like money, as though you could earn more if you needed it.
I have a bag full of stolen moments. I will sell them to you for a song.
It isn't. But only because I never you let in.
You want me to tell you it is not time yet. And it isn't. It's tomorrow. Or the day before.
A speck of sand. A pinch of dust. A grain of ash. A mote of salt. Something sticks in the hourglass' throat.
You spend time like money, as though you could earn more if you needed it.
I have a bag full of stolen moments. I will sell them to you for a song.
Saturday, January 01, 2011
A Beginning
My master has gone to fetch his new bride
I shall strew his bed with fresh-plucked flowers.
Let others warm themselves at the fire
I shall find beauty in the raked ash.
- Hu Ming-Xiang
I shall strew his bed with fresh-plucked flowers.
Let others warm themselves at the fire
I shall find beauty in the raked ash.
- Hu Ming-Xiang
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