a version of a Midnight Song by Li Yu, C. E. 937-978 (poems from old notebooks, September 2005)

Li Yu, 937-978.

Here’s another relic from when I was trying to steal from the old, dead Chinese poets, trying to move their poems closer to us in time and space. The original can be found here.

How Can a Man Escape Life’s Sorrow and Regret?
a version of a Midnight Song by Li Yu, C. E. 937-978

Isn’t life seamed with sorrow
and stained with regret?
Even if the strained seams burst
would that end our lonely grief?

I dreamed of Cape Wolfe last night,
dreamed I moved back to live.
When I woke up here in Fort Mac,
A tear fell from each eye.

Those crumbling orange capes of home—
who climbs them these days?
I remember the clear air of autumn,
the west wind stirring the Strait.

But, as favourite jeans fade to white,
I have worn those memories thin;
they fall apart in my mind the way
dreams tatter in the morning.

About John MacKenzie

I'll mumble for ya. Poetry, plus most things quantifiable: science, neuroscience, memory, epistemology, baseball. And so on.
This entry was posted in Art is lies, Art is theft, Autumn, Consciousness, Creativity, Death, Epistemology, John MacKenzie, Language, Li Yu, Poem tweets, Poems from old notebooks, Poetry, Process, The Sea, The Wind, Time and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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