To Lord Hu
We shall not ask for the precious pearl of the Duke of Sui,
nor for the priceless jade disk of Master Ho.
We merely ask for the recent news of our homeland.
The Palace of Spiritual Illumination must be still there,
surrounded by desolation.
What's happened to the stone statues buried deep in the grass,
still guarding the Imperial tombs?
Is it true that our people left behind in the occupied territories
are still planting mulberry trees and hemp?
Is it true that the rear guard of the Barbarians
only patrols the city walls?
This widow's father and grandfather were born in Shantung.
Although they never held high office, their fame spread far and wide.
I remember when they carried on animated discussions
with other scholars by the city gate.
The listeners were so crowded that their sweat fell like rain.
Their offspring crossed the Yangtze River to the South many years ago.
Drifting in the rapids, they mingled with refugees.
I send blood-stained tears to the mountains and rivers of home,
And sprinkle a cup of earth on East Mountain.
I imagine when Your Lordship, His Majesty's envoy, upholding the Imperial spirit,
passes through our two capitals, K'ai Feng and Lo Yang,
Thousands of people would line the streets and present tea and broth
to welcome you....
Announce that the Emperor's heart aches for the suffering people---
they are his own children.
Let them understand that the Will of Heaven remembers all living beings.
Our sagacious Emperor offers his trust which is as brilliant as the sun.
There is no need to negotiate many times after the long chaos of the years.
poem by Li Ching Chao
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Dragons
In the year of the Jade Emperor,
In the time of the people’s pain,
The sun was hot, the people groaned
The sky gave up no rain;
‘The sky gave up no rain, ’ he said,
‘The ground was dry as a bone,
There were no rivers or lakes to feed
The crops that the people owned.
The rice lay waste in the paddy fields,
The people ate bark and clay,
While on the shores of the Eastern Sea
Four dragons laughed and played.’
‘These creatures, made of snake and claw,
Of horn, and fire and scale,
Looked down to see the people pray,
To hear the people wail,
So Black, and Yellow, Long and Pearl,
For these were the dragons’ names,
Felt sad for the people’s plight, and said,
“We must bring on the rain! ”
Without the rain, the people die,
They are so poor and thin,
We needs must enter at Heaven’s Gate
So He will intervene! ’
‘They flew to the Jade Emperor
Who promised to send them rain,
But then sat back with his minstrel songs,
Forgot the people’s pain.
For ten long days the dragons paused
To wait the darkening clouds,
But only saw the people cry,
Lay out their dead in shrouds.
They laid their dead in shrouds, ’ he said,
‘The lastborn to the first,
The dragons said, “He heeds us not,
Won’t slake the people’s thirst.”’
‘The dragons flew to the Eastern Sea,
They knew it would bring them pain,
But to ease the hurt of the brown, dead earth
What else, but the soothing rain?
Now, dragons’ care for man’s despair,
His hopes, his joys, his tears,
They send their many blessings down,
Relieve the people’s fears.
They flew on out to the Eastern Sea
Its waters so clear and deep,
They flung it up to the heavens high
That what they’d sow, they’d reap.’
Then down it came in a storm of rain
That fed the people’s joy,
They laughed aloud at this water cloud
That the dragons had employed.
The moment the Jade Emperor
By the Sea God was informed,
He stamped and raged, and bellowed loud
That he would not be scorned!
He called his Generals and his troops,
To make the dragons’ answer,
Then called the Mountain God to him
To lie on them forever!
Caught fast beneath a mountain each
The dragons still were glad,
They’d saved the people from their pain,
The price they paid was sad;
But not unbearable, they thought,
So Long, and Black and Yellow,
With Pearl, devised another plan
That they might ever follow.
They turned themselves to rivers wide
To flow across each valley,
From West to East, the Long, the Black,
The Pearl flows, and the Yellow.
Four dragons’ that once cared for man,
Four dragons’ spread their tails,
They fed the crops that man might eat,
Might sing or dance, not wail;
The Heilongjiang is River Black,
The Dragon of the north,
And south of him, the Huanghe flows,
The Yellow Dragon’s course;
The Yangtze is the Dragon Long,
The Changjiang, to the mouth,
While Pearl is now the Zhujiang,
The Dragon of the south.
23 December 2005
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Song Of The Jade Cup
A jade cup was broken because old age came
too soon to give fulfilment to hopes; after drinking
three cups of wine I wiped my sword and
started to dance under an autumn moon first
singing in a high voice then unable to halt
tears coming; I remember the day when first
I was summoned to court and I was feasted splendidly
writing poems in praise of the Emperor, making
jokes with officials around several times changing
my horse, taking the best from the
imperial stables; with my whip studded with
jade and coral presented to me by the Emperor,
my life was free and easy, people calling me
the "Banished Immortal." Hsi Shih was good
at smiling as well as frowning, useless
for ordinary girls to try and imitate her.
Surely it was only her loveliness the king adored,
but unfortunately jealousy within the palace
led to her death.
Song of Unending Sorrow.
China's Emperor, craving beauty that might shake an empire,
Was on the throne for many years, searching, never finding,
Till a little child of the Yang clan, hardly even grown,
Bred in an inner chamber, with no one knowing her,
But with graces granted by heaven and not to be concealed,
At last one day was chosen for the imperial household.
If she but turned her head and smiled, there were cast a hundred spells,
And the powder and paint of the Six Palaces faded into nothing.
...It was early spring. They bathed her in the FlowerPure Pool,
Which warmed and smoothed the creamy-tinted crystal of her skin,
And, because of her languor, a maid was lifting her
When first the Emperor noticed her and chose her for his bride.
The cloud of her hair, petal of her cheek, gold ripples of her crown when she moved,
Were sheltered on spring evenings by warm hibiscus curtains;
But nights of spring were short and the sun arose too soon,
And the Emperor, from that time forth, forsook his early hearings
And lavished all his time on her with feasts and revelry,
His mistress of the spring, his despot of the night.
There were other ladies in his court, three thousand of rare beauty,
But his favours to three thousand were concentered in one body.
By the time she was dressed in her Golden Chamber, it would be almost evening;
And when tables were cleared in the Tower of Jade, she would loiter, slow with wine.
Her sisters and her brothers all were given titles;
And, because she so illumined and glorified her clan,
She brought to every father, every mother through the empire,
Happiness when a girl was born rather than a boy.
...High rose Li Palace, entering blue clouds,
And far and wide the breezes carried magical notes
Of soft song and slow dance, of string and bamboo music.
The Emperor's eyes could never gaze on her enough-
Till war-drums, booming from Yuyang, shocked the whole earth
And broke the tunes of The Rainbow Skirt and the Feathered Coat.
The Forbidden City, the nine-tiered palace, loomed in the dust
From thousands of horses and chariots headed southwest.
The imperial flag opened the way, now moving and now pausing- -
But thirty miles from the capital, beyond the western gate,
The men of the army stopped, not one of them would stir
Till under their horses' hoofs they might trample those moth- eyebrows....
Flowery hairpins fell to the ground, no one picked them up,
And a green and white jade hair-tassel and a yellowgold hair- bird.
The Emperor could not save her, he could only cover his face.
And later when he turned to look, the place of blood and tears
Was hidden in a yellow dust blown by a cold wind.
... At the cleft of the Dagger-Tower Trail they crisscrossed through a cloud-line
Under Omei Mountain. The last few came.
Flags and banners lost their colour in the fading sunlight....
But as waters of Shu are always green and its mountains always blue,
So changeless was His Majesty's love and deeper than the days.
He stared at the desolate moon from his temporary palace.
He heard bell-notes in the evening rain, cutting at his breast.
And when heaven and earth resumed their round and the dragon car faced home,
The Emperor clung to the spot and would not turn away
From the soil along the Mawei slope, under which was buried
That memory, that anguish. Where was her jade-white face?
Ruler and lords, when eyes would meet, wept upon their coats
As they rode, with loose rein, slowly eastward, back to the capital.
...The pools, the gardens, the palace, all were just as before,
The Lake Taiye hibiscus, the Weiyang Palace willows;
But a petal was like her face and a willow-leaf her eyebrow --
And what could he do but cry whenever he looked at them?
...Peach-trees and plum-trees blossomed, in the winds of spring;
Lakka-foliage fell to the ground, after autumn rains;
The Western and Southern Palaces were littered with late grasses,
And the steps were mounded with red leaves that no one swept away.
Her Pear-Garden Players became white-haired
And the eunuchs thin-eyebrowed in her Court of PepperTrees;
Over the throne flew fire-flies, while he brooded in the twilight.
He would lengthen the lamp-wick to its end and still could never sleep.
Bell and drum would slowly toll the dragging nighthours
And the River of Stars grow sharp in the sky, just before dawn,
And the porcelain mandarin-ducks on the roof grow thick with morning frost
And his covers of kingfisher-blue feel lonelier and colder
With the distance between life and death year after year;
And yet no beloved spirit ever visited his dreams.
...At Lingqiong lived a Taoist priest who was a guest of heaven,
Able to summon spirits by his concentrated mind.
And people were so moved by the Emperor's constant brooding
That they besought the Taoist priest to see if he could find her.
He opened his way in space and clove the ether like lightning,
Up to heaven, under the earth, looking everywhere.
Above, he searched the Green Void, below, the Yellow Spring;
But he failed, in either place, to find the one he looked for.
And then he heard accounts of an enchanted isle at sea,
A part of the intangible and incorporeal world,
With pavilions and fine towers in the five-coloured air,
And of exquisite immortals moving to and fro,
And of one among them-whom they called The Ever True-
With a face of snow and flowers resembling hers he sought.
So he went to the West Hall's gate of gold and knocked at the jasper door
And asked a girl, called Morsel-of-Jade, to tell The Doubly- Perfect.
And the lady, at news of an envoy from the Emperor of China,
Was startled out of dreams in her nine-flowered, canopy.
She pushed aside her pillow, dressed, shook away sleep,
And opened the pearly shade and then the silver screen.
Her cloudy hair-dress hung on one side because of her great haste,
And her flower-cap was loose when she came along the terrace,
While a light wind filled her cloak and fluttered with her motion
As though she danced The Rainbow Skirt and the Feathered Coat.
And the tear-drops drifting down her sad white face
Were like a rain in spring on the blossom of the pear.
But love glowed deep within her eyes when she bade him thank her liege,
Whose form and voice had been strange to her ever since their parting --
Since happiness had ended at the Court of the Bright Sun,
And moons and dawns had become long in Fairy-Mountain Palace.
But when she turned her face and looked down toward the earth
And tried to see the capital, there were only fog and dust.
So she took out, with emotion, the pledges he had given
And, through his envoy, sent him back a shell box and gold hairpin,
But kept one branch of the hairpin and one side of the box,
Breaking the gold of the hairpin, breaking the shell of the box;
"Our souls belong together," she said, " like this gold and this shell --
Somewhere, sometime, on earth or in heaven, we shall surely
And she sent him, by his messenger, a sentence reminding him
Of vows which had been known only to their two hearts:
"On the seventh day of the Seventh-month, in the Palace of Long Life,
We told each other secretly in the quiet midnight world
That we wished to fly in heaven, two birds with the wings of one,
And to grow together on the earth, two branches of one tree."
Earth endures, heaven endures; some time both shall end,
While this unending sorrow goes on and on for ever.
The Concubine
Chen Xiao Fei while the sun does shine
Was taken as the Emperor's concubine,
Just one of a hundred from the village Yang Ping
And chosen by the placing of a bright gold ring.
The Emperor's minions took her by the hand
And led her far away from the life she'd planned,
Her tears flew wide as she said zy jian
To the Ma ma, signing her away with a pen.
She said farewell to her friends from the school
Then they bathed her well in a rose-petalled pool,
They dressed her in the silks of a young girl's dream
And gave her to the Emperor, at just fourteen.
She lodged with the other of his concubines
Who taught her the rules she must follow all times
She never must climb in the top of his bed
But crawl beneath the sheet from his feet to his head.
She was told of the colours that she must not wear
And she came and she went, but by a side door
She was low in the rank of his concubines
And waited on him calling her, the very first time.
But once he had ravaged her virginity
She was told to leave his bed, but immediately,
For all of his consorts waited in a line
For the glory of a moment as his concubine.
They were guarded by the eunuchs of the Emperor's court
Who dallied with the concubines, until they were caught,
Then their heads were toppled by a sharp steel blade
And buried in the field where their sisters were laid.
But the news came down, and the news was bleak
That the Emperor was dead, had died in his sleep
And the Empress ordered that Chen Xiao Fei
Would be buried standing up, in the Emperor's grave.
She begged and she pleaded with the Emperor's wife
But consorts were needed in the afterlife,
She could choose to be drowned in the well by the park,
Or hang herself there, with a bright silk scarf.
She picked out a scarf to be hung, Xiao Fei
Along with the others, at dawn the next day,
And they all were buried by the eunuch guard
In a line, in a field by the Palace's yard.
And now as you pass by a field, weed-grown
There's barely a glimpse of a weather-worn stone,
All that is left of the girl sent away
For the lust of an Emperor, Chen Xiao Fei.
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Waiting for the Barbarians
What are we waiting for, assembled in the forum?
The barbarians are due here today.
Why isn't anything happening in the senate?
Why do the senators sit there without legislating?
Because the barbarians are coming today.
What laws can the senators make now?
Once the barbarians are here, they'll do the legislating.
Why did our emperor get up so early,
and why is he sitting at the city's main gate
on his throne, in state, wearing the crown?
Because the barbarians are coming today
and the emperor is waiting to receive their leader.
He has even prepared a scroll to give him,
replete with titles, with imposing names.
Why have our two consuls and praetors come out today
wearing their embroidered, their scarlet togas?
Why have they put on bracelets with so many amethysts,
and rings sparkling with magnificent emeralds?
Why are they carrying elegant canes
beautifully worked in silver and gold?
Because the barbarians are coming today
and things like that dazzle the barbarians.
Why don't our distinguished orators come forward as usual
to make their speeches, say what they have to say?
Because the barbarians are coming today
and they're bored by rhetoric and public speaking.
Why this sudden restlessness, this confusion?
(How serious people's faces have become.)
Why are the streets and squares emptying so rapidly,
everyone going home so lost in thought?
Because night has fallen and the barbarians have not come.
And some who have just returned from the border say
there are no barbarians any longer.
And now, what's going to happen to us without barbarians?
They were, those people, a kind of solution.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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200 Years
...the emperor wears no clothers
The emperor wears no clothers
The emperor wears no clothers
He dont like none of those
200 years in which I spit
Thats too many years in babylon
So you know were leavin it
200 years in which I spit
Thats too many years in babylon
So you know were leaving it
G. love
Whats going on
Little sister born in 1976
A bicentennial of 200 years
On which I spit
Look how youre living first world
Look what you did to third world
So many rhymes in flame, so many bodies slain
Stories washed in the red stain
Bring our boys back home
God bless our troops
Who execute their orders
Their living breathin gorders
Somebodys sons
Somebodys daughters
Bodies thrown in the garbage chutes
Youre lying sweat behind those suits
American casualties 16
Thats 16 concrete sweet dreams
What about the 4000 buried in 16 graves
That the bulldozer made
The presidaent gave
Didnt reach the middle
Before they reached the last page
Their mothers crying
Torn, enraged
They didnt know oall of the statistics
Information unclear
And the truth never reached it
Enemy resistance gone cause we breached it
Evidence gone white cause we bleached it
200 years in which I spit
Thats too many years in babylon
So you know were leaving it
200 years in which I spit
Thats too many years in babylon
So you know were leaving it
Smiles
Let us puff today
Stay true I way
The golden bonfire
No burn the soul body
Wont walk through the secret entrance
Nor I stroll down the streets of gold
Live and breathe with one guide
One mind and one home
Come on people lets realize
All the families must be unified
Come on people lets realize
Babylon trickin with dem foolish lies
Come on people lets realize
All the families must be unified
Never will we cower
Never will we hide
Now were steppin out of babylon
And we wavin good bye
song performed by by G. Love & Special Sauce
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Dwarves of Tao-Chou
In the land of Tao-chou
Many of the people are dwarfs;
The tallest of them never grow to more than three feet.
They were sold in the market as dwarf slaves and yearly sent to Court;
Described as “an offering of natural products from the land of Tao-chou.”
A strange “offering of natural products “; I never heard of one yet
That parted men from those they loved, never to meet again!
Old men—weeping for their grandsons; mothers for their children!
One day—Yang Ch’ëng came to govern the land;
He refused to send up dwarf slaves in spite of incessant mandates.
He replied to the Emperor “Your servant finds in the Six Canonical Books
‘In offering products, one must offer what is there, and not what isn’t there’
On the waters and lands of Tao-chou, among all the things that live
I only find dwarfish people; no dwarfish slaves.”
The Emperor’s heart was deeply moved and he sealed and sent a scroll
“The yearly tribute of dwarfish slaves is henceforth annulled.’’
The people of Tao-chou,
Old ones and young ones, how great their joy!
Father with son and brother with brother henceforward kept together;
From that day for ever more they lived as free men.
The people of Tao-chou
Still enjoy this gift.
And even now when they speak of the Governor
Tears start to their eyes.
And lest their children and their children’s children should forget the Governor’s name,
When boys are born the syllable “Yang” is often used in their forename.
The Old Man with the Broken Arm
At Hsin-fëng—an old man—four-score and eight;
The hair on his head and the hair of his eyebrows—white as the new snow.
Leaning on the shoulders of his great-grandchildren, he walks in front of the Inn;
With his left arm he leans on their shoulders; his right arm is broken.
I asked the old man how many years had passed since he broke his arm;
I also asked the cause of the injury, how and why it happened.
The old man said he was born and reared in the District of Hsin-fëng;
At the time of his birth—a wise reign; no wars or discords.
“Often I listened in the Pear-Tree Garden to the sound of flute and song;
Naught I knew of banner and lance; nothing of arrow or bow.
Then came the wars of T’ien-pao and the great levy of men;
Of three men in each house—one man was taken.
And those to whom the lot fell, where were they taken to?
Five months’ journey, a thousand miles—away to Yiin-nan.
We heard it said that in Yiin-nan there flows the Lu River;
As the flowers fall from the pepper-trees, poisonous vapors rise.
When the great army waded across, the water seethed like a cauldron;
When barely ten had entered the water, two or three were dead.
To the north of my village, to the south of my village the sound of weeping and wailing,
Children parting from fathers and mothers; husbands parting from wives.
Everyone says that in expeditions against the Min tribes
Of a million men who are sent out, not one returns.
I, that am old, was then twenty-four;
My name and fore-name were written down in the rolls of the Board of War.
In the depth of the night not daring to let any one know
I secretly took a huge stone and dashed it against my arm.
For drawing the bow and waving the banner now wholly unfit;
I knew henceforward I should not be sent to fight in Yün-nan.
Bones broken and sinews wounded could not fail to hurt;
I was ready enough to bear pain, if only I got back home.
My arm—broken ever since; it was sixty years ago.
One limb, although destroyed—whole body safe!
But even now on winter nights when the wind and rain blow
From evening on till day’s dawn I cannot sleep for pain.
Not sleeping for pain
Is a small thing to bear,
Compared with the joy of being alive when all the rest are dead.
For otherwise, years ago, at the ford of Lu River
My body would have died and my soul hovered by the bones that no one gathered.
A ghost, I’d have wandered in Yiin-nan, always looking for home.
Over the graves of ten thousand soldiers, mournfully hovering.’’
So the old man spoke,
And I bid you listen to his words.
Have you not heard
That the Prime Minister of K’ai-yüan, Sung K’ai-fu,
Did not reward frontier exploits, lest a spirit of aggression should prevail?
And have you not heard
That the Prime Minster of T’ien-Pao, Yang Kuo-chung
Desiring to win imperial favour, started a frontier war?
But long before he could win the war, people had lost their temper;
Ask the man with thy broken arm in the village of Hsin-fëng!
The City With Eyes
The city with eyes
Sees everything,
City with eyes
Hears everything
Feels everything
The city with eyes
Sees people living on the rough side of the streets
Sees people eating crumbs from the floor
Sees people with ripped clothes and no shoes
Watching other people wearing lubatones walking past
It cries not one but millions of tears
For them
Tears which touch every one
Which soaks everything
Rain, they call it.
The city with eyes
Watching
What has happened to my city?
It cries with sorrow
The city with eyes
Feels the sadness
Of those in need, sad, hurt, …
Watching what was happy
To what is sad know
Let the Spring Winds Blow
Who divided the rivers and mountains
Forty-five years ago, hearts were torn, blood flowed
Standing and waiting, turning to stone looking at my homeland
The cries of anguish are no longer heard No fertile land for the trees to grow, no water to float the ships
No flight in the sky, where did it go
Known long ago, Korea was the rising sun of the East
Everywhere, tall trees, clear waters, blue skies To roam everywhere, to greet everyone
But that was yesterday
Spring comes to other countries, where everyone can travel
But winter snow blocks the path to my homeland Following year to year, people and seasons come and go
I am waiting, why are the spring winds not blowing
Winter is long and cold but spring must come
The seeds are waiting to bloom Spring has arrived, let us join hands
Let us plant trees on the mountains
Let us sail our ships on the rivers
Let us fly far into the sky
poem by Michael I. Byun
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Senorita With A Necklace
Words & music by paul simon
I have a wisdom tooth
Inside my crowed face
I have a friend who is born again
Found his saviors grace
I was born before my father
And my children before me
We are born and born again
Like the waves in the sea
Thats the way its always been
And thats how I want it to be
Nothing but good news
There is a frog in south america
Whose venom is a cure
For all the suffering that mankind
Must endure
More powerful than morphine
And soothing as the rain
A frog in south america
Has the antidote to pain
Thats the way its always been
And thats the way I like it
Some people never say no
Some people never complain
Some folks have no idea
And others will never explain
Thats the way its always been
And thats the way I like it
And thats how I want it to be
Thats the way its always been
And thats the way I like it
And thats how I want it to be
If I could play all the memories
In the neck of my guitar
Id write a song called
Se? orita with a necklace of tears
And every tear a sin Id committed
Oh these many years
Thats who I was
Thats the way its always been
Some people always want more
Some people are what they lack
Some folks open a door
Walk away and never look back
I dont want to be a judge
And I dont want to be a jury
I know who I am
Lord knows who I will be
Thats the way its always been
And thats the way I like it
And thats how I want it to be
Thats the way its always been
And thats the way I like it
And thats how I want it to be
song performed by by Paul Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Emperor Of The Highway
I am the emperor of the highway
I wield the universal will
One might chance to overlook on my divineness
Unless Im sitting in the imperial poupe de ville
I am the emperor of the highway
Strapped with foolish mortals such as these
I need never indicate my intentions
I can stop and go and turn just as I please
For I am the emperor of the highway
Hold!
Methinks that thou hast driven too far
I am the royal prince of foreign sports cars
Better that I should drive a wheelchair or jog
Than to be blown off by a regal road hog
I am the emperor of the highway
(where did you ever get that gas sucking pig of a car? )
This time my friend, you are outclassed
(any real man would drive a stick shift)
For my uncle is the duke of the state police
(cut me off again and I will punch your lights out)
And he will place his royal boot upon your ass
(this is my exit, we shall meet another day)
Dont forget whos emperor of the highway
For I am the emperor of the highway!
song performed by by Todd Rundgren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mountain Peak
We came together on the highest mountain on this earth.
As years went by we separated into rivers
from the tears this mountain cried.
We all fell into different rivers flowing though
forests, rocks, and waterfalls.
No matter what season we came across
we continued flowing.
We are rivers that started in the mountains,
and rivers that separated as we went through
many waterfalls.
Sometimes we travel together,
and other times we travel alone.
Always remember that these same rivers
that travel many miles through the earth
are once again together when it reaches its final destination
the “Ocean”
So, rivers that started up high in the mountains
and then separated are united
again as a family.
poem by Felix Lugo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Song Of Painting: To General Cao Ba
You, General Cao Ba,
descendant of Cao Cao,
now live as a peasant,
a cold-door commoner.
Your ancestor's heroic age
carved out kingdoms of old,
and its cultural brilliance, its style,
still survive in your work.
To learn calligraphy
you first studied Lady Wei;
your only regret was not surpassing
the great Wang Xizhi .
You said, 'Caught up in my painting,
I give no thought to old age;
riches and rank are to me
no more than clouds floating by.'
Often summoned to court
during the Kaiyuan period,
frequently you ascended the dais
to receive the Emperor's praise.
In the Gallery of Famous Men
the noble faces were fading;
going to work with your brush
you brought back their freshness.
On the ministers' heads you repainted
their hats of office,
at the waists of the fierce generals,
their great feathered arrows.
The Duke of Bao and Duke of E--
so lifelike their hair bristles--
stand grim, bold and heroic,
as if in the midst of battle.
The late Emperor's imperial horse,
Jade-Flower Dapple,
had been painted by artist after artist,
but none could capture his essence.
One day he was led into the courtyard
below the red steps of the palace;
standing there by the palace gates
he embodied the wind of the plains.
At the Emperor's command
you stretched white silk to paint on;
calling up all of your skill,
you formed the image in your mind.
In a flash, from the nine-fold heavens,
the true 'dragon' emerged!
At one stroke, the horse paintings of ages
were obliterated.
When the painting was taken up
and hung above the throne,
the horse on the wall and that in the yard
gazed proudly into each other's face.
Smiling, the Emperor hastened his aide
to bring a handsome reward;
stable-boys and grooms stood long-faced,
jealous of His Majesty's favor.
Your pupil Han Gan was long since
shown all your techniques;
he too can paint horses,
horses in every stance imaginable,
but Gan paints only the outer flesh,
not the strength that lies beneath;
his brush would dampen the spirit
of legendary Hualiu!
The General is a superb painter
because he captures the essence.
In the past you often rendered
likenesses of distinguished men;
in the present troubled times,
uprooted and homeless,
you are reduced to painting portraits
of humble passersby.
So desperate are your straits, you put up
with the snubs of commoners--
never in the world
has anyone been as poor as you!
But look at the lives of famous men
throughout history--
they too were forced to deal
with endless frustrations
Amman My Unrequited Love
Why Amman? ?
You compel me to have contradictory
Feelings for you why,
Why my Amman,
Why do I love you
And fear you
In the same time?
Why do I long to see
You and once I reach
Your semi green valleys and mountains,
I feel so confused? !
Why my dear city
You insist to kill my soul?
Is it because the memories
Of my happy and adventurous
Youth is buried in your soil,
Or because my last love
Has become part of your dust?
You were once our meeting point
But you refused to open your arms
Or heart
For us and we were lost in the Wilderness.
Why Amman you look
Like a prison of walls
To me now?
While once you were my gate
To happiness and freedom,
Why materialistic ways of living
Is killing your people who once
Looked so intellectual and liberal
Why is it killing them
As jealousy killed my best friends
Who were living on your land
Who changed just like you
with the passage of time;
With the years
Of absence? !
Where are your green sceneries,
Where have they disappeared,
Why could the hand of time
Change you to a sterile land,
Why my first beloved city
After my homeland,
Why my wonderful home
You put an end
To all of my dreams and hopes
Of whatever is beautiful
Of whatever charmed
My heart and MIND? ? ? ? ! ! !
poem by Nadia Abduljabbar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Massacre in Nanjing
On a clear winter day you can see from Tokyo
The snow-capped volcanic cone of Mount Fuji.
Towering to a height of 3,776 meters on Honshu Island,
About 100 kilometers south-west from the capital,
The majestic mountain is a staunch symbol
Of the Land of the Rising Sun.
During the Sino-Japanese War of 1937-1945,
Hirohito's armies invaded China, carrying along
A fascist banner of samurai honor and pride.
The Japanese Imperial troops
Advanced with brutal force,
Committing dreadful atrocities
Against prisoners and civilians.
They reinterpreted bushido virtues and believed
That their war crimes elevated the splendor and glory
Of Mount Fuji to new heights.
Articles published in November and December 1937
In the Tokyo Nichi Nichi Shimbun reported the exploits
Of Japanese Imperial Army officers Toshiaki Mukai and
Tsuyoshi Noda, who on the road to Nanjing competed,
For being the first to behead 100 Chinese with a sword.
Okumiya Masatake, a Japanese officer,
Was a witness to the atrocities.
He was a principled aviator in the Imperial Navy,
Serving in Jiangsu.
He was shocked by the carnage he saw in China.
On December 12,1937,
He participated outside Nanjing
In the bombing and sinking
Of the American Gunboat USS Panay
In the Yangtze River.
A few days after the sinking of the Panay,
Okumiya rode a chauffeur-driven car,
Searching for the bodies of downed Japanese pilots.
It was then that he had witnessed
His Majesty's Imperial Troops
Perpetrating gruesome Massacres.
In the streets of Nanjing, Japanese soldiers
Were slaughtering indiscriminately
Chinese men and women, young and old.
On December 25 and 27 of 1937,
Okumiya photographed in the capital
Piles of innumerable bodies of Chinese people,
Lying unburied along the Yangtze River
And on the shores of Xuanwu Lake and Xuanwu Gate.
Once he came upon a terrible scene of executions.
About twenty soldiers of the Japanese Imperial Army
Forced a large group of Chinese to sit on the river bank.
The prisoners' hands were bound behind their backs.
The soldiers beheaded their victims by the sword.
One warrior after the other approached
A kneeling prisoner and drew his sword.
The soldier raised the weapon with both hands,
Its blade glittering in the bright daylight.
And then with a swift and savage sweep
He struck at the prisoner's neck.
The severed head rolled into the river.
When Okumiya asked why the troops execute
The prisoners by sword instead of shooting them,
An officer replied that killing by sword
Saved ammunition.
Okumiya was immersed in his homeland
In the violent culture of the sword.
He was well-aware of its pivotal role
In Japanese history.
Nevertheless, he was shocked by the executions.
The officer's explanation lingered on in his mind
With an unnerving persistence.
Although he was a disciplined naval officer,
Loyal and ready to die for the Emperor,
He still felt that what he witnessed compromised
The samurai way of the warrior, dishonored the spirit
And soul of the bushido.
The reign of terror in China began in 1937,
When the Fascist Imperial Army of Hirohito
Invaded the country.
After three months of brutal fighting,
The Battle of Shanghai ended in late November.
Then the Japanese army marched all the way to Nanjing,
The historical capital of Six Chinese Dynasties.
On December 10,1937, the Japanese mounted
A fierce assault on the walls of the city.
After two days of heavy artillery fire
And aerial bombardment
The Chinese army retreated from Nanjing.
Gunboats of the Japanese fleet were cruising
In the Yangtze River.
By nightfall, on December 13, the historical capital fell.
The Emperor's forces entered Nanjing
Through the ancient city gates.
The masses of defenseless civilians
Trapped in Nanjing
Became prey and pillage of Fascist bestiality.
Brutal crimes of looting, arson, rape and murder
Were perpetrated everywhere.
Soldiers of the Japanese Imperial Army
Roamed savagely the streets.
They entered every household,
Searching door to door for females.
And it did not matter
If they were young or old or pregnant.
The troops gang raped thousands of women,
Stabbed them to death with their bayonets
And then mutilated their bodies.
Entire families had been murdered in cold blood.
Men were shot through the head or the heart.
And the soldiers killed even the babies.
They also used young men for bayonet training
Stabbing the screaming victims repeatedly,
Or beheading them by their swords.
Historians estimate that in the horrible war crimes
Committed at Nanjing
The Japanese army slaughtered
Between 200,000 and 300,000 people.
The soldiers raped tens of thousands of women.
Yet in this tragic epoch of Chinese history
There were still beacons of light that shone through
The long and cruel nights of barbarism.
Confronting the bloody maelstrom of atrocities
A few courageous foreigners in Nanjing
Risked their lives and came to the rescue.
These righteous Europeans and Americans
Helped many people to escape.
They hid and protected
Thousands of Chinese men, women and children
From the massacres.
One of the rescuers was
Bernhard Arp Sindberg of Denmark.
When the war broke out Sindberg worked as a driver
For the British journalist Pembroke Stephens.
One day in Shanghai,
They climbed a water tower to observe the fighting
And Stephens was killed by a machine gun salvo
Fired from a Japanese airplane.
Shortly before the occupation of Nanjing,
Sindberg moved to the capital.
Here he was employed as a guard
At a concrete factory in the city,
Owned by a Danish firm.
During the massacres he flew the swastika flag
To protect approximately 6,000 Chinese refugees
Camping on the factory lot.
Another foreigner
Who saved thousands upon thousands
From Japanese brutality
Was the German businessman, John Rabe.
Employed by the Siemens AG China Corporation,
He helped to establish the International Safety Zone
Of Nanjing.
The Safety Zone had sheltered
Approximately 200,000 Chinese men, women
And children from the massacres.
Ironically, Rabe was a member of the Nazi Party.
However, he was a conservative man fostering
Traditional values and he had a compassionate heart.
Displaying the swastika at his house
And presenting his National Socialist documents,
Rabe negotiated, argued and protested
With the Japanese military in order to keep
Hirohito's troops out of the Safety Zone.
He even wrote Hitler a letter
Requesting him to interfere
With the Japanese authorities
To stop the bestial bloodbath.
The Fuehrer did not reply.
When Rabe returned to Germany,
The Nazis forbade him
To lecture about the Japanese war crimes.
Another angel during the dreadful days
Of the Rape of Nanjing was Minnie Vautrin,
An American missionary and Dean of Jingling College.
She harbored and protected up to 10,000 women
At the school.
She kept a diary in which she had recorded
The horrors of Nanjing.
Once, late on a winter evening,
She saw an army truck in the street,
Carrying a group of young Chinese girls.
As the truck passed by, the girls called out:
'Jiu ming, jiu ming', 'save our lives, save our lives'.
A Buddhist monk once told me
That rivers and mountains have their own soul.
Nature is alive.
And so, in this terrible time of history,
Those who had listened carefully enough, could hear
The mountains and the rivers of the earth sigh.
And then in the glorious Land of the Rising Sun
The snow-capped peak of sublime Mount Fuji
Hid its head in the clouds, ashamed.
poem by Paul Hartal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Say It Isnt True
In the still of the night
Lying in the darkness
I listen to my heart
Say it isnt true
In the dark and the quiet
The movements of my love
And the breathing of our children
Say it isnt true
In the streets and the buildings
The people in their lives
And the jobs they do for a living
Say it isnt true
And when you think of all the people
In the cities of the world
Who could vanish in a moment
Say it isnt true
Say it isnt true
That there always has been and always will be war
Say it isnt true
And apart from all the fine things that men have struggled for
Say it isnt true
There always has been and always will be war
Say it isnt true
Im alive in a city
In a country of the world
And I want to go on living
I want to see my life unfold
You know its hard to go on looking
At the stories of our day
And the dangers were all facing
Growing worse in every way
And you would think with all of the genius
And the brilliance of these times
We might find a higher purpose
And a better use of mind
Say it isnt true
That there always has been and always will be war
Say it isnt true
And apart from all the fine things that man has struggled for
Say it isnt true
There always has been and always will be war
Say it isnt true
Say it...
Say it isnt...
song performed by by Jackson Browne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hiroshima
Oh! The mushroom cloud
Oppenhiemer takes solace
In my Bhagwad Gita and
Quotes Lord Krishna
I have become death
The destroyer of Universe
The Emperor when told -
The old wooden palace
Reduced to cinders- Asks
What about my old Elm tree
For a palace can be built in a month
It takes a hundred years for
An Elm to fully grow
We will surrender says the Emperor
Why - asks the Diet
I cannot see the slaughter of -
My people.
Young army hotheads-thinking
Emperor has been ill advised
Ask the General to follow -
The Code of the Japanese Soldier
And overthrow the Emperor and the Diet
Sayeth the General-
You talk of the Code of the Japanese Soldier
The Japanese Soldier has but one code -
'He always obeys his Emperor'.
And commits
Harakiri
poem by Satbir Bakshi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Living For The City
A boy is born in hard time mississippi
Surrounded by four walls that aint so pretty
His parents give him love and affection
To keep him strong moving in the right direction
Living just enough, just enough for the city...ee ha!
His father works some days for fourteen hours
And you can bet he barely makes a dollar
His mother goes to scrub the floors for many
And youd best believe she hardly gets a penny
Living just enough, just enough for the city... yeah!
His sisters black but she is shonuff pretty
Her skirt is short but lord her legs are sturdy
To walk to school shes got to get up early
Her clothes are old but never are they dirty
Living just enough, just enough for the city...um hum
Her brothers smart hes got more sense than many
His patiences long but soon he wont have any
To find a job is like a haystack needle
Cause where he lives they dont use colored people
Living just enough, just enough for the city...
Living just enough...
For the city... ooh, ooh
(repeat several times)
His hair is long, his feet are hard and gritty
He spends his life walking the streets of new york city
Hes almost dead from breathing in air pollution
He tried to vote but to him theres no solution
Living just enough, just enough for the city...
Yeah, yeah, yeah!
I hope you hear inside my voice of sorrow
And that it motivates you to make a better tomorrow
This place is cruel no where could be much colder
If we dont change the world will soon be over
Living just enough, stop giving just enough for the city!!!!
La, la, la, la, la, la,
Da ba da da da da da da
Da da da da da da
Da da da da da da da da da
(repeat to end)
song performed by by Stevie Wonder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Exile’s Letter
(To Yüan)
Remember how Tung built us a place to drink in
At Lo-yang south of the T’ien-ching bridge?
White jade and gold bought songs and laughter.
We drank forgetting Court and princes.
Those amongst us, wisest and bravest
On all this side of rivers and oceans,
Hearts high as clouds, and you and I together,
Cared nothing at crossing lakes and mountains
Only to share our thoughts and feelings.
Then I went out south-east to cut the laurel,
You north of Lo River still lost in dreams.
No joy in being parted. Soon back again in mountains,
Tracking the thirty-six twists and turns of valley,
By the streams bright with a thousand flowers,
By endless waters,
Hearing pine-trees sighing,
Till we met the Hang-tung Governor
On a gold and silver saddle,
And Hu the True-Taoist drew us with his pipe playing,
Making unearthly music out of the high tower,
Strange sounds of the mating phoenix.
The Governor’s sleeves kept time to the music,
So that he rose, drunk, and danced a little,
Brought his brocade coat, covered my body.
I fell asleep, head resting in his lap.
By day our hearts rose to the nine heavens.
At evening we scattered like blown stars or rain,
I to my far mountain over hills and waters,
You to your own house by the bridge of Wei.
That winter I made your father’s North City,
Loved you for the way you did me honour,
Sharing your wealth, thinking nothing of it.
Wine there - in cups of amber,
Food there - on plates of jade.
I ate and drank, no thoughts of returning.
We went out to the west. The river parts there,
Round the ancient shrine of a Prince of Chou.
Boats on the waters to drums and piping.
Waves made of dragon scales. Jade-green rushes.
We drank and drank, lived the passing moments,
Forgetting how they go like blossoms or snowfall.
Flushed with wine, warm in glow of sunset,
The hundred-foot deep pool mirroring bright faces,
Dancing-girls delicate as willows in the moonlight,
Notes lost in the silken sleeves’ fluttering.
A white breeze blew their song to the sky,
Winding through the air, twisting in the cloud-lanes.
Never again. Never again such joy.
I went west but got no promotion.
White-headed back to eastern hills.
Met once more south of Wei’s bridge.
Parted again north of Tso’s terrace.
And if you ask my feelings at parting,
They were inside me like Spring flowers falling.
No way to say what’s in the heart. Never.
I call in the boy. Have him kneel here, tie this,
To send my feelings through a thousand miles.