(no subject)
[Private]
What?
He appears again, and despite the fact that I'd convinced myself of shaking that shiver in my heart, it flutters up in perfect harmony with his words. It would be so natural to slip into the poetry again, so simple to take up the pen and write what I want to tell him he wants to hear.
But no.
Whatever cloud he thought I was on, the smile was imagined.
Why did he dance with me in the first place? Bringing my violin to our little rendezvous was a terrible idea; the deep elegy of the cello and the sorrowful strains from my instrument have taken seed in my soul and grown roots.
Whatever I imagined he felt about me was obviously misguided. How long did I wait without knowing I was waiting?
David was released last Thursday. He smiled and squeezed my hand, and I felt like I'd finally done my job. Life goes on.
[/Private]
[Public]
While my hair was still cut straight across my forehead
I played about the front gate, pulling flowers.
You came by on bamboo stilts, playing horse,
You walked about my seat, playing with blue plums.
And we went on living in the village of Chokan:
Two small people, without dislike or suspicion.
At fourteen I married My Lord you.
I never laughed, being bashful.
Lowering my head, I looked at the wall.
Called to, a thousand times, I never looked back.
At fifteen I stopped scowling,
I desired my dust to be mingled with yours
Forever and forever and forever.
Why should I climb the lookout?
At sixteen you departed,
You went into far Ku-to-en, by the river of swirling eddies,
And you have been gone five months.
The monkeys make sorrowful noise overhead.
You dragged your feet when you went out.
By the gate now, the moss is grown, the different mosses,
Too deep to clear them away!
The leaves fall early this autumn, in wind.
The paired butterflies are already yellow with August
Over the grass in the West garden;
They hurt me. I grow older.
If you are coming down through the narrows of the river Kiang,
Please let me know beforehand,
And I will come out to meet you
As far as Cho-fo-Sa.
-- Ezra Pound
[/Public]