Poem For Wei Ba
Often a man's life is such
that he seldom sees his friends,
like the constellations Shen and Shang
which never share the same sky.
If not this evening, then what evening
should we share this lamp light?
How long can our youth and vigor last?
The hair at our temples is already gray.
We inquire about old acquaintances
to find that half are ghosts--
shocked cries betray
the torment of our hearts.
How could I have known
that it would be twenty years
before I again entered
your honored home.
When we parted last
you were yet unmarried;
now your sons and daughters
line up in a smiling row
to greet their father's friend.
They ask whence I have come
but before I can answer all questions
you chase them off
to bring wine and cups.
In the night rain, chives are cut
for the freshly steamed rice
mixed with yellow millet.
Saying how difficult it has been
for us to meet at last,
you pour ten cups in a row!
But even after ten cups
I'm not drunk, being so moved
by your lasting friendship.
Tomorrow we will be separated
by the peaks of mountains,
each of our worldly affairs
lost to the other's sight.
Related quotes
To the Recluse, Wei Pa
Often in this life of ours we resemble, in our failure to meet, the Shen and
Shang constellations, one of which rises as the other one sets. What lucky
chance is it, then, that brings us together this evening under the light of
this same lamp? Youth and vigor last but a little time. --- Each of us now has
greying temples. Half of the friends we ask each other about are dead, and our
shocked cries sear the heart. Who could have guessed that it would be twenty
years before I sat once more beneath your roof? Last time we parted you were
still unmarried, but now here suddenly is a row of boys and girls who
smilingly pay their respects to their father's old friend. They ask me where I
have come from; but before I have finished dealing with their questions, the
children are hurried off to fetch us wine. Spring chives are cut in the rainy
dark, and there is freshly steamed rice mixed with yellow millet. `Come, we
don't meet often!' you hospitably urge, pouring out ten cupfuls in rapid
succession. That I am still not drunk after ten cups of wine is due to the
strength of the emotion which your unchanging friendship inspires. Tomorrow
the peak will lie between us, and each will be lost to the other, swallowed up
in the world's affairs.
To The Recluse, Wei Pa
Often in this life of ours we resemble, in our failure to meet, the Shen and
Shang constellations, one of which rises as the other one sets. What lucky
chance is it, then, that brings us together this evening under the light of
this same lamp? Youth and vigor last but a little time. -- Each of us now has
greying temples. Half of the friends we ask each other about are dead, and our
shocked cries sear the heart. Who could have guessed that it would be twenty
years before I sat once more beneath your roof? Last time we parted you were
still unmarried, but now here suddenly is a row of boys and girls who
smilingly pay their respects to their father's old friend. They ask me where I
have come from; but before I have finished dealing with their questions, the
children are hurried off to fetch us wine. Spring chives are cut in the rainy
dark, and there is freshly steamed rice mixed with yellow millet. `Come, we
don't meet often!' you hospitably urge, pouring out ten cupfuls in rapid
succession. That I am still not drunk after ten cups of wine is due to the
strength of the emotion which your unchanging friendship inspires. Tomorrow
the peak will lie between us, and each will be lost to the other, swallowed up
in the world's affairs.
A Reunion
Often a man's life is such
that he seldom sees his friends,
like the night and day
never sharing the same hours
In the skies
Seldom does he share
His evenings with friends
Or his mornings
His lamp light unshared
His mornings unspent
How long will this
Distance last?
Hairs have turned
White and lesser
As we inquire about
Friends and other
Acquaintances only
To find out that half of
Them have turned
To ghosts,
Shocks and torments
Of this heart, cries
But I will try again
To enter your home
Twenty five years
And now you have
Two sons and three
Daughters to greet
Me by the door
I thought you never
Married and they all
Kiss my hands and
Before I can ask the
Questions you drive
Them off to the grounds
To play away from us
As we talk about
Lasting friendships
And how we have
Almost forgotten them
Tomorrow I will be drunk
Again back to my own
Affairs in the big city
We will be separated
Again by these peaks
Of mountains and we
Shall again lose each
Other’s friendly views.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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240
a reunion
Often a man's life is such
that he seldom sees his friends,
like the night and day
never sharing the same hours
In the skies
Seldom does he share
His evenings with friends
Or his mornings
His lamp light unshared
His mornings unspent
How long will this
Distance last?
Hairs have turned
White and lesser
As we inquire about
Friends and other
Acquaintances only
To find out that half of
Them have turned
To ghosts,
Shocks and torments
Of this heart, cries
But I will try again
To enter your home
Twenty five years
And now you have
Two sons and three
Daughters to greet
Me by the door
I thought you never
Married and they all
Kiss my hands and
Before I can ask the
Questions you drive
Them off to the grounds
To play away from us
As we talk about
Lasting friendships
And how we have
Almost forgotten them
Tomorrow I will be drunk
Again back to my own
Affairs in the big city
We will be separated
Again by these peaks
Of mountains and we
Shall again lose each
Other’s friendly views.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Singularity Creation Epic
cosmic dust
vast realms
more cupfuls
than all coffee cups
ever drunk drained
since first brewed
historic original cups
quenching coffee cups
face cosmic questions
scientists astronomers
study momentous
singularity event
big bang creations
spontaneous moment expands
everything miracle births
explodes accelerated realities
zero naught nothing instant
inescapable Genesis
creation science affirms
creating new all things
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Jiang Village
Red evening clouds are mountainous in the west
and the sun's feet disappear under the horizon.
Sparrows noisy over the brushwood door.
I am a traveler home after a thousand miles.
My wife and children are startled to see me alive.
The surprise ends but they can't stop wiping tears.
In the chaotic world I was tossed about;
I've found my way home, alive by accident.
Neighbors crowd over our garden walls.
They are moved, sighing and even weeping.
In deep night we hold candles,
facing each other as if in dream.
I live my late years as if I've stolen my life.
Very few joys after I returned home.
My little son never lets go of my knees,
afraid I will go away again.
I remember I liked to chase cool shade,
so I walk under trees by the pond.
Whistling, the north wind is strong,
I finger past events and a hundred worries fry in my mind.
However, the crops are harvested,
wine spurts from the mouth of the flask
and I have enough to fill my cups
and console me in my dusk.
A group of chickens make chaos
and fight each other as guests arrive.
I drive them up bushes and trees,
before I hear knocking on my brushwood gate:
four or five village elders greet me
and ask about my long absence.
Each of them brings a gift in hand.
Their wines pour out, some clear, some muddy.
They apologize for their wine, so watery,
as there was no one to grow millet.
Weapons and horses can't rest yet;
the young men are gone on the expedition east.
I offer a song for my old village folks,
feeling deep gratitude.
After singing, I sigh and throw back my head
and tears meander down our faces.
Cups Of Knowledge!
I HAVE TASTED OF THE CUP OF LOBSANG RAMPA'S KNOWLEDGE!
AND I WAS SATISFIED!
I HAVE TASTED OF THE CUP OF CHINUA ACHEBE'S KNOWLEDGE!
AND I WAS SATISFIED!
I HAVE TASTED OF THE CUPS OF WOLE SOYINKA'S KNOWLEDGE!
AND THE SOY-INKER'S KNOWLEDGE GAVE ME SATISFACTION!
OF THE CUPS OF AGATHA CHRISTIE'S KNOWLEDGE, I HAVE ALSO DRANK!
AND I AM REFRESHED AND SATISFIED!
OF THE CUPS OF CYPRIAN EKWENSI'S KNOWLEDGE I HAVE ALSO TASTED!
INDEED, I WAS SATISFIED!
I HAVE TASTED OF THE TALE TELLING KNOWLEDGES OF JAMES HARDLEY CHASE!
AND, I AM PLEASED!
DRINK OF THIS CUPS AND KNOW WISDOM! KNOWLEDGE! AND UNDERSTANDING!
AS I HAVE KNOWN ALSO!
THE KNOWLEDGE RUSH OF THE CUPS OF OVERLORD DON MANUEL IHCAKEYNO IS A MIGHTY OCEAN!
DRINK UNTO INFINITY!
poem by Overlord Don Manuel Ihcakeyno
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Your Friend A Friend For Lifetime
Acquaintances are many but friends are very rare
For with a true and trusting friend your secrets you can share
Your friend will comfort you and advise you and you will not betray
Your friend will never disown you and as your friend will stay
When others do not wish to know you your friend as your friend remain
And feel lucky in your lifetime if one loyal friend you gain
Your friend will always stand by you no matter come what may
And when you ask your friend for help your friend will not turn you away
No your friend will stand by you when you are feeling down
When others shun you as if you were an outcast of the town
Acquaintances like Nature's Seasons they come to your life and go
But your friend a friend for lifetime and the bond of friendship grow
And the one who betrays your trust could never be your friend
Your friend to you is ever true and one on whom you can depend.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A thousand cups of wine do not suffice when true friends meet, but half a sentence is too much when there is no meeting of minds.
Fragments - Lines 0467 - 0496
Of those now here with us, do not detain anyone who is unwilling to remain,
Nor show the door to anyone who does not wish to go,
Nor wake anyone who is sleeping, Simonides, should one of us,
Well fortified by wine, be gripped by gentle slumber;
Nor bid the wakeful man to sleep against his will;
For everything that is forced is by nature painful.
For the one who wants to drink, let the boy stand close and pour;
Not on all nights is it possible to enjoy delights like these.
But as for me, since I have reached my limit of honey-sweet wine,
I shall think of sleep that loosens cares, going home.
I have reached the point when a man feels most pleasure in drinking wine,
Being neither sober at all nor yet excessively drunk.
Whoever goes beyond the limit of drinking, that man no longer
Is master of his own tongue or of his mind;
He talks recklessly, saying things which the sober find disgraceful,
And feels no shame in any action when he is drunk,
A man of sound sense before, and now a fool. But you,
Understanding these things, should not drink to excess,
But either stand up and leave before you get drunk -- don't let your belly
Overpower you as if you were a base laborer hired by the day --
Or else stay put and refrain from drinking. But no, 'Pour me another'
Is what you keep idly chattering, and that's why you get drunk.
For one cup comes around in the name of friendship, another on a bet;
Another you pour out as a libation for the gods, another you keep on hand,
And you do not know how to refuse. That man is truly invincible,
Who though he has drunk many cups says nothing foolish.
As for the rest of you, take care in what you say as you linger around the wine bowl,
Steering well clear of quarrels with one another,
Speaking in a way that any may hear, whether you address one or all together.
Conducted in this way, a drinking-party proves far from unpleasant.
Poem, Prayers And Promises
I've been lately thinking about my life's time
all the things I've done and how it's been,
and I can't help believin' in my own mind
I know I'm gonna hate to see it end.
I've seen a lot of sunshine slept out in the rain
spent a night or two all on my own
I've known my lady's pleasures had myself some friends
spent a time or two in my own home.
Days they pass so quickly now, the nights are seldom long
time around me whispers when it's cold.
The changes somehow frightens me, still I have to smile
it turns me on to think of growing old.
It's tho' my life's been good to me there's still so much to do
so many things my mind has never known
I'd like to raise a fam'ly I'd like to sail away
dance across the mountains on the moon.
Ref.) I have to say it now it's been good life all in all,
it's really fine to have a chance to hang around.
and lie there by the fire and watch the evening tire,
while all my friends and my old lady sit and pass a pipe around
and talk of poems and prayers and promises
and things that we believe in, how sweet it is to love someone,
how right it is to care, how long it's been since yesterday
what about tomorrow and what about our dreams
and all the memories we share
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Race
Our grand son Siluna has brought two cups home after winning in the school sports meet.
Congratulations Son!
At least you won.
Still I am running, your
Gray bearded Grand father
Never seen a cup.
Be strong my son as you have to jump over so many hurdles
in the race of hard life.
But I am sure that you have the sprint
And you take part all the events,
One day you bring the biggest cup home from the racecourse
The Mankind.
*Dedication to Alison, Sandra and Shani the three poetesses polished my scribblings.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Red Sky: The Good Shepherd and I
Jesus, the good shepherd, once said:
'When it is evening, ye say,
It will be fair weather:
For the sky is red.
And in the morning,
It will be foul weather today:
For the sky is red and lowering.'
Evening red and morning gray
Are the signs of a bonny day.
Evening red:
'Shepherd's delight, '
Daddy said.
That is to say,
'Red sky at night,
Shepherd's delight.'
Evening gray and morning red
Bring down rain on the farmer's head.
Morning red:
'Shepherd's warning, '
Daddy said.
That is to say,
'Red sky in the morning,
Shepherd's warning.'
Evening gray and morning red
Brought down rain on my father's head.
My father, a seasoned farmer,
Could discern the face of the sky.
O Lord, my shepherd, so can I.
poem by Monty Gilmer
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Chiang Chin Chiu
See the waters of the Yellow River leap down from Heaven, Roll away to the deep sea and never turn again! See at the mirror
in the High Hall Aged men bewailing white locks - In the morning, threads of silk, In the evening flakes of snow. Snatch the joys
of life as they come and use them to the full; Do not leave the silver cup idly glinting at the moon. The things that Heaven made
Man was meant to use; A thousand guilders scattered to the wind may come back again. Roast mutton and sliced beef will only
taste well If you drink with them at one sitting three hundred cups. Great Master Ts'êen, Doctor Tan-ch'iu, Here is wine, do not
stop drinking But listen, please, and I will sing you a song. Bells and drums and fine food, what are they to me Who only want
to get drunk and never again be sober? The Saints and Sages of old times are all stock and still, Only the might drinkers of wine
have left a name behind. When the prince of Ch'êen gave a feast in the Palace of P'ing-lo With twenty thousand gallons of wine
he loosed mirth and play. The master of the feast must not cry that his money is all spent; Let him send to the tavern and fetch
wine to keep our tankards filled. His five-flower horse and thousand-guilder coat - Let him call the boy to take them along and
pawn them for good wine, That drinking together we may drive away the sorrows of a thousand years.
Just Friends
We talk too much, always together
Share every feelings, care for one another
Hard to live alone, relationship very deep
Friendship, promised forever to keep.
But for how long? How long will it go? ?
Boy and girl can't be friends we all know.
One day one will fall in love among us
But won't purpose or say I love you and flush
Flush the idea of purposing which could be rejected
So friend won't be lost, friendship won't be separated
Till life ends will be friends and for one another we care
Beat them badly if say bad about us or they dare
The end
poem by Sushanta Rokka
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Returning Late on the Road from Pingquan on a Winter's Day
Mountain road hard travel sun become slant
Mist village frost tree about to perch crow
Night return not arrive should be unimportant
Warm drink three cups reach be come
The mountain road is hard to travel, the sun now slanting down,
In a misty village, a crow lands on a frosted tree.
I'll not arrive before night falls, but that should not concern me,
Once I've drunk three warm cups, I'll feel as if at home.
Die Romantic
You Look Fabulous In Your Dark Dress Tongiht
Your Black Lipstick Calling Me To You Like A Magic Spell
The Only Thing That You Disliked Is The Light
Tonight We'll Meet Our Master Satan and Reign In Hell
I Walk Up To You My Black Hair Covering My Dark Eyes
I'm Dressed In A Blood Staind Tuxedo
I've Already Put On My Black Eyeliner I'm Also Wearing My Red Tie
Where Not Fit For This Life Of Secrets and Incognito
We'll Drown This Poison With Cheap Wine
We'll Drink It From Our Cups Devine
Tonight We'll Die Romantic
Plus For This Murder Scene Where Fanatics
We'll Put The Poison On Our Lips and Kiss It Off
Soon The Nightmare People Call Life Will Be Over For Us
It'll First Start Off As Just A Light Cough
This Will Be A Slow Painful Death We'll Enjoy It This Won't Be Rushed
We Finish The Battle Of Wine and Open Another One
All We Can Do Now Is Wait and Laugh About Are Soon To Be Bodies
Normally People Would Be Scared Of This Outcome Where Just Having Fun
Look At Us Enjoying Our Last Few Hours We're Being So Haughty
We'll Drown This Poison With Cheap Wine
We'll Drink It From Our Cups Devine
Tonight We'll Die Romantic
Plus For This Murder Scene Where Fanatics
We See The Sun Coming Up As We Began To Laugh At Each Other
This Will Be The Last Sunrise We'll Ever Get To See
Our Lips Now Covered In Blood Soon I'll Cease To Be The Big Brother
Now That It's Almost Time I Propose To You On One Knee
We'll Be Dead Lovers You Laugh and Say Yes
With Our Last Dying Breath We Give Each Other A Kiss
Soon We'll Be Six Feet Under Laid To Rest
It Happend Just How It Should've Just Like This
We'll Drown This Poison With Cheap Wine
We'll Drink It From Our Cups Devine
Tonight We'll Die Romantic
Plus For This Murder Scene Where Fanatics
poem by Patrick Shields
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Poems, Prayers & Promises
This song appears on twelve albums, and was first released on the poems,
Prayers & promises album, then the very best of john denver (double cd), this
Is john denver, the country roads collection and the rocky mountain collection
Albums, and has also been recorded on the greatest hits vol 1, john denver
(italian) and rocky mountain holiday albums. live versions also appear on the
An evening with john denver, country classics, the wildlife concert and the
Very best of john denver live albums.
Ive been lately thinking
About my lifes time
All the things Ive done
And how its been
And I cant help believing
In my own mind
I know Im gonna hate to see it end
Ive seen a lot of sunshine
Slept out in the rain
Spent a night or two all on my own
Ive known my ladys pleasures
Had myself some friends
And spent a time or two in my own home
And I have to say it now
Its been a good life all in all
Its really fine
To have a chance to hang around
And lie there by the fire
And watch the evening tire
While all my friends and my old lady
Sit and pass the pipe around
And talk of poems and prayers and promises
And things that we believe in
How sweet it is to love someone
How right it is to care
How long its been since yesterday
And what about tomorrow
And what about our dreams
And all the memories we share
The days they pass so quickly now
Nights are seldom long
And time around me whispers when its cold
The changes somehow frighten me
Still I have to smile
It turns me on to think of growing old
For though my lifes been good to me
Theres still so much to do
So many things my mind has never known
Id like to raise a family
Id like to sail away
And dance across the mountains on the moon
I have to say it now
Its been a good life all in all
Its really fine
To have the chance to hang around
And lie there by the fire
And watch the evening tire
While all my friends and my old lady
Sit and pass the pipe around
And talk of poems and prayers and promises
And things that we believe in
How sweet it is to love someone
How right it is to care
How long its been since yesterday
What about tomorrow
What about our dreams
And all the memories we share
Words and music by john denver
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Loves
'Sincerity comes with the wine-cup,' my dear:
Then now o'er our wine-cups let us be sincere.
My soul's treasured secret to you I'll impart;
It is this; that I never won fairly your heart.
One half of my life, I am conscious, has flown;
The residue lives on your image alone.
You are kind, and I dream I'm in paradise then;
You are angry, and lo! all is darkness again.
It is right to torment one who loves you? Obey
Your elder; 'twere best; and you'll thank me one day.
Settle down in one nest on one tree (taking care
That no cruel reptile can clamber up there):
As it is with your lovers you're fairly perplexed;
One day you choose one bough, another the next.
Whoe'er at all struck by your graces appears,
Is more to you straight than the comrade of years;
While he's like the friend of a day put aside;
For the breath of your nostrils, I think, is your pride.
Form a friendship, for life, with some likely young lad;
So doing, in honour your name shall be had.
Nor would Love use you hardly; though lightly can he
Bind strong men in chains, and has wrought upon me
Till the steel is as wax-but I'm longing to press
That exquisite mouth with a clinging caress.
No? Reflect that you're older each year than the last;
That we all must grow gray, and the wrinkles come fast.
Reflect, ere you spurn me, that youth at his sides
Wears wings; and once gone, all pursuit he derides:
Nor are men over keen to catch charms as they fly.
Think of this and be gentle, be loving as I:
When your years are maturer, we two shall be then
The pair in the Iliad over again.
But if you consign all my words to the wind
And say, 'Why annoy me? you're not to my mind,'
I-who lately in quest of the Gold Fruit had sped
For your sake, or of Cerberus guard of the dead
Though you called me, would ne'er stir a foot from my door,
For my love and my sorrow thenceforth will be o'er.
poem by Theocritus
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Poem 14
NOw al is done; bring home the bride againe,
bring home the triumph of our victory,
Bring home with you the glory of her gaine,
With ioyance bring her and with iollity.
Neuer had man more ioyfull day then this,
Whom heauen would heape with blis.
Make feast therefore now all this liue long day,
This day for euer to me holy is,
Poure out the wine without restraint or stay,
Poure not by cups, but by the belly full,
Poure out to all that wull,
And sprinkle all the postes and wals with wine,
That they may sweat, and drunken be withall.
Crowne ye God Bacchus with a coronall,
And Hymen also crowne with wreathes of vine,
And let the Graces daunce vnto the rest;
For they can doo it best:
The whiles the maydens doe theyr carroll sing,
To which the woods shal answer & theyr eccho ring.
poem by Edmund Spenser
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