Poetry: Composition and Appreciation

Dear Oristar,
My Internet Explorer does have a Text Size option within VIEW that has a default set at medium, but nothing happens if I change it to the other settings (Largest, Larger, Smaller, Smallest). It's OK, my copying to email works and then it is saved for printing, too.

As for a tour covering all those World Heritage sites... can you imagine the expense? I was noticing that there are also 99 cities described as "Ancient Cities under state protection." Those sound wonderfully interesting (Chengdu is one) and would be another ideal tour... also one that would be very, very expensive.

I hope Li Bai would not be bothered to share the moon, even with me and an old draft horse... he seemed lonesome. We would have been happy to have him with us... even though there was no wine.

I think it would be very cool to ride a big horse, but mine does not get ridden. I got her because she had an injury to her shoulder that makes the harness for a cart not fit properly. She is a pet... a big and unusual pet. Since we live in a rural area, we can manage to keep her in the small land holding we have.

You wondered what the answer was to Cat Steven's question:


I think the answer is it didn't need any time at all to find him, but it may have taken a long time for him to notice. What do you think?

Best,
Piffka

Here is a nice poem. Maybe you will like it.

Wild Geese
Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting -
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

Dear Piffka,

I've read through your post. That is a good poem at first sight.

I'd reply you later since it is now working time for me.

Dear Piffka,

Please try "Text Size" in the page of Able2Know, you will see the font size change. Because the code of some webpages might be different.

I agree with you that being effective and economic is one of the best policies. Take time to well arrange your China tour before setting out.

Your pet is really a big one. I remember that I've ever posted a thread headlined with "The biggest Pet in the World". Wow, now you also have had a big pet!

Mary Oliver's Wild Geese is so optimistc.
Intoning:
"Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting -
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things."

Oh dear, Millay said spring is a goose-girl, while Oliver told us the world calls to us like the wild geese. Surely our imaginations since were goosed, and refreshed.

Best,
Oristar

Dear Oristar,

That is very funny -- our imaginations goosed! Maybe a goose too close is disconcerting, but far up in the sky, so mysterious, they draw our imaginations?



You've caught me out, btw. It is true, I prefer poems with optimism. Mary Oliver's does that well. Here's another... floral illustration from the Chinese Garden of the Montréal Botanical Garden:



Peonies by Mary Oliver

This morning the green fists of the peonies are getting ready
to break my heart
as the sun rises,
as the sun strokes them with his old, buttery fingers

and they open ---
pools of lace,
white and pink ---
and all day the black ants climb over them,

boring their deep and mysterious holes
into the curls,
craving the sweet sap,
taking it away

to their dark, underground cities ---
and all day
under the shifty wind,
as in a dance to the great wedding,

the flowers bend their bright bodies,
and tip their fragrance to the air,
and rise,
their red stems holding

all that dampness and recklessness
gladly and lightly,
and there it is again ---
beauty the brave, the exemplary,

blazing open.
Do you love this world?
Do you cherish your humble and silky life?
Do you adore the green grass, with its terror beneath?

Do you also hurry, half-dressed and barefoot, into the garden,
and softly,
and exclaiming of their dearness,
fill your arms with the white and pink flowers,

with their honeyed heaviness, their lush trembling,
their eagerness
to be wild and perfect for a moment, before they are
nothing, forever?

Best,
Piffka

Dear Piffka,

Your reply made me think how dangerous a slang usage would be. In "our imaginations were goosed", the usage "goose", according to AHD, referred to "To move to action, spur". For example:The pilot goosed his craft, powering away. Hence, what I meat there is "our imaginations were spurred, and flying high.

I remember that Millay said "very very poor, but very very merry". I hightly appreciated and appreciate optimism radiated from poems.

Here is a poem from Li Bai,

A SONG OF PURE HAPPINESS III

Lovely now together, his lady and his flowers
Lighten for ever the Emperor's eye,
As he listens to the sighing of the far spring wind
Where she leans on a railing in the Aloe Pavilion.

The original Chinese of the poem is:

李白 清平调之三
名花倾国两相欢， 常得君王带笑看。
解释春风无限恨， 沈香亭北倚阑干。

I think the translator hasn't successfully translated "名花倾国",which literally means "a famous flower that stuns the nation at large".

Best,
Oristar

Dear Oristar,
I agree that slang can sneak up on you. No worries, it is the thought of being goosed which might spur one to quickly move. However, if you ever need to use that word in a business meeting.... uhmmm... might want to reconsider! We are friends, though, and I thought it was clever.

I think we like the same kinds of poems. It is funny, isn't it? Though we are from opposite sides of the world and probably different in many ways, we appreciate the same poetry. It makes me feel better about the sad turmoil in the world, that Oristar and Piffka can share these things.

Thanks for posting that poem from Li Bai. Imagining that the emperor, who is likely most concerned with war and rebellion, can stop to enjoy seeing his beautiful wife surrounded by flowers is an optimistic view. I was reading about Li Bai and so surprised to find that he was ambitious for power. Western poets are unlikely to be aware of politics, let alone have ambitions for themselves (there ae some exceptions, yes). I think it might be a difference between our cultures -- in China, it seems to me, poetic ability shows intelligence and education -- good things for a leader. Here, poetry indicates sensitivity and an artistic unworldliness... a poet is often a little estranged from the world and would never be considered a leader.

I found this Li Bai poem (here) and hoped you could explain it to me -- I don't understand his reference to "Lesser Hsieh" and wonder if it relates to the title. What does he mean by the bones of writers are brushes? I also liked the image of the wild geese, though I don't quite understand what he means by "long wing."

It seems that he says he will give up his ambitions and take to a fishing boat... meaning leave the political world and become a rural recluse. It is also a common thing in the United States to say, "Darn it, I'm going fishing!" whenever things get too rough or just because a guy needs to get away." Fishing is a contemplative activity here and considered good for the spirit. If you came to my state, you'd see many bumper-stickers on the backs of cars that would say, "I'd rather be fishing." So I liked the poem for that reason, too.

I hope that November is a good month for you.

Best,
Piffka


A Farewell to Secretary Shu-yun at the Hsieh Tiao Villa in Hsuan-Chou

Since yesterday had thrown* me and bolted,**
Today has hurt my heart even more.
The autumn wildgeese have a long wing for escort
As I face them from this villa, drinking my wine.
The bones of great writers are your brushes, in the school of heaven,
And I am Lesser Hsieh growing up by your side.
We both are exalted to distant thought,
Aspiring to the sky and the bright moon.
But since water still flows, though we cut it with our swords,
And sorrows*** return, though we drown them with wine,
Since the world can in no way answer our craving,
I will loosen my hair tomorrow and take to a fishing-boat.

---
I made these changes to that translation--
*throw in the translation, but thrown is more grammatically correct
** bolt in the translation, but I assume he is making a metaphor to being thrown from a horse, in which case bolted makes more sense
***sorrow in the translation, but seems to me from the rest of the line, it should be plural

Dear Piffka,

Regarding "Lesser Hsieh", it actually should be "Junior Hsieh" or "Junior Xie". The title of the poem is 'A Farewell to Secretary Shu-yun at the Hsieh Tiao Villa in Hsuan-Chou', in which Hsieh Tiao is 'Xie Tiao", because the translator transliterated the name with Wade-Giles romanization system, not in Pinyin. Xie Tiao was then the governor of Hsuan-Chou, and he is best known as one of the two originators of Chinese landscape poem genre (the other is Xie Lingyun, named as "Senior Xie".). And the villa was built by the governor. Li Bai intoned "And I am Lesser Hsieh growing up by your side"; he meant that his poems were in Junior Xie's direct and easy style, because he admired Xie Tiao so much and was proud to call himself as "Junior Xie".

I am not so familiar with some ancient Chinese history. When I read the poem in Chinese, also didn't know what it meant. So I had to tapping to Chinese history, spending some time to figure it out. Just because most of the time I appreciate modern sciences, not 'antique'.

Millay said "make love, not war", and we "make friends, not hatreds". Yes,you've romantically described our situation, making this world a little better when turmoils spread around the world.

Regarding the emperor and his beautiful wife, here is a picture describing this. The pic looks childish, because it is from Chinese primary school textbook, but it might be of inspiration for you.



Just stop here for the time being.

Best,
Oristar

Dear Oristar,
Thank you for writing and for being my friend. The presidential election here has upset me this morning and I cannot think so well. I feel like the world has turned upside down. I will write more later. You are a good antidote for my sadness.

Best,
Piffka

Dear Piffka,

I don't know how to comfort you, and I know that Kerry was also choking back his tears when he learned of the counting result.

Americans used to say "Darn it, I'm going fishing!". Why not look on the bright side, at least Bush is not a demon or a dictator.
Here is a Chinese poem that might make you a little better:

You will enjoy a grander sight

The sun beyond the mountains glows;
The Yellow River seaward flows.
You will enjoy a grander sight,
By climbing to a greater height.

The pic is Li Bai's former residence where seems suitable for quiet thoughts.


Best,
Oristar

Dear Oristar,
Thanks for your comforting thoughts. Your are right, he is neither a demon nor a dictator. I need to get over my sadness. Perhaps I should go fishing? The salmon are running in Puget Sound, or they were, last time I looked. Do you like salmon? I heard on TV last night that scientists have found there is salmon-based nitrogen in every needle of our great fir tree forests? Puts a new face to the closely connection of the environment.

Thank you for the poem -- I have taken it to heart and will try to enjoy a grander sight by climbing to a greater height. Should that be physically or meta-physically?

I am surprised by the photograph though. A towering residence... goodness! That is such a large home for Li Bai! It is beautifully situated, too, and must have a good view. The kind of view we need -- long-range, all encompassing. That must have been a state residence of some kind. I imagine walking up and down those many steps every day would be a lot of work! I saw a photograph of similar inscribed panels running down the center of every set of stairs in a palace in Beijing. It must be odd to revere a leader like an Emperor. I suppose if you were a true believer, it would be very comforting. Once you've decided that there is no God-chosen leader though... then what... things fall apart?

I found a little poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay. (What a surprise! ) It would be nice to have a tavern just below the crest of a hill for the comfort of those deep thinkers. Grey (or gray)-eyed people is a reference to Minerva/Athena, Goddess of wisdom and thought, and also, I think, to ESVM's mother.

Best,
Piffka

PS -- We have been providing poems about November on a thread in the poetry section, if you are interested. You'd be very welcome, I know.

TAVERN

I'll keep a little tavern
Below the high hill's crest,
Wherein all grey-eyed people
May set them down and rest.

There shall be plates a-plenty,
And mugs to melt the chill
Of all the grey-eyed people
Who happen up the hill.

There sound will sleep the traveller,
And dream his journey's end,
But I will rouse at midnight
The falling fire to tend.

Aye, 'tis a curious fancy --
But all the good I know
Was taught me out of two grey eyes
A long time ago.

Edna St. Vincent Millay

Dear Piffka,

Fishing salmon might be a good idea for you. Because salmon is so yum - hmm, have I eaten salmon? I live by East China Sea and have been eating a variety of fish, but salmons are not living in the sea. In China, noly Heilongjiang produces salmons, and I think some importers have been importing salmons so salmons are expensive. Regarding "scientists have found there is salmon-based nitrogen in every needle of our great fir tree forests", the news sounds a mystery for me. How the connection between salmon and fir tree can be made?

To enjoy a grander sight, sometimes by physically climbing, and sometimes by a high spirit, I think.

It is very hard to prove or disprove the existence of God. But as a leader, one has to make all exertions to ensure that there is a government of the people, by the people for the people under his leadership, and then things would be okay. Because we are humans, after all.

I'm thinking what a hill that Millay chose would look like. Should there be a tranquil forest, and towering crags arounded by wild flowers, in front of the tavern? Because deep thinkers would like these, too.

Here is the statue a youthful Li Bai:


Best,
Oristar

Dear Oristar,

Do you think it would be better if we had a state religion or if we did not? I think it is better to have freedom for people to celebrate their spiritual lives without a government telling them how to believe.

Thank you for the image of Li Bai! He was a handsome young man; the other pictures I've seen had him as old and fierce... a little frightening.

High spirits or high hills... or both? I wonder what Millay imagined, too, probably something in Maine. I have only been there once and don't have any photographs just now, but here's a hillside view that I think would be nice if you wanted to have a tavern in Hawaii:


or this, if the tavern were in a northern climate:


I'm sorry you don't get to enjoy salmon often. I live in a salmon-fishing town -- so it's a pretty common meal, here. As for the salmon & the great fir trees -- it is the nitrogen from the salmon who return to the forest streams to spawn and die which is broken down and used by the trees when they get nutrients from the soil.

I am looking forward to the Collection of 300 Poems!!

Best,
Piffka

I'm glad you live by the East China Sea. Here's a poem from Millay and how she felt renewed by the sea:

EXILED

Searching my heart for its true sorrow,
This is the thing I find to be:
That I am weary of words and people,
Sick of the city, wanting the sea;

Wanting the sticky, salty sweetness
Of the strong wind and shattered spray;
Wanting the loud sound and the soft sound
Of the big surf that breaks all day.

Always before about my dooryard,
Marking the reach of the winter sea,
Rooted in sand and dragging drift-wood,
Straggled the purple wild sweet-pea;

Always I climbed the wave at morning,
Shook the sand from my shoes at night,
That now am caught beneath great buildings,
Stricken with noise, confused with light.

If I could hear the green piles groaning
Under the windy wooden piers,
See once again the bobbing barrels,
And the black sticks that fence the weirs,

If I could see the weedy mussels
Crusting the wrecked and rotting hulls,
Hear once again the hungry crying
Overhead, of the wheeling gulls,

Feel once again the shanty straining
Under the turning of the tide,
Fear once again the rising freshet,
Dread the bell in the fog outside,--

I should be happy,--that was happy
All day long on the coast of Maine!
I have a need to hold and handle
Shells and anchors and ships again!

I should be happy, that am happy
Never at all since I came here.
I am too long away from water.
I have a need of water near.

Dear Piffka,

A mandatory religion, even if it is a state religion suggested by a government, should not be appreciated. American constitution has got it right. I absolutely agreed your opinion about the freedom of spiritual lives.

I prefer the second (northern climate) image, and I also propound that Millay's tavern locates somewhere like this:



Because I think the environment is suitable for deep thinkers.

Wow, a crazy Millay. Okay, let her fly seaward, and let me fly cityward. That'll do both of us good! Cheers!

Best,
Oristar

Dear Oristar,

I think we agree on many things. Even, we agree that those deep thinkers would most like to contemplate both water and mountains. What, I wonder, is it in that combination of environmental wonders that makes the minds of even little thinkers like me soar? I know that when I am in such a place, I feel more calm and love all things more. Most of all, I feel humbled that I can be witness to the world.

Your photograph is magnificent, by the way. Much better than anything I found. Good on ya!

And if you really do appreciate that northern clime view -- it can be easily had if you come to my state. It was taken along a 20-mile road just south of Bellingham, Washington, Chuckanut Drive. It looks out towards the San Juan Islands and the beginnings of our inland sea.

I found this poem, a sonnet from Shakespeare, that I thought you might enjoy. It is considered to be either a plea for people to be as good as they can be or a diatribe against hypocrites.

Best,
Piffka

Sonnet 94
William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616)

They that have power to hurt and will do none,
That do not do the thing they most do show,
Who, moving others, are themselves as stone,
Unmovèd, cold, and to temptation slow-
They rightly do inherit Heaven's graces
And husband nature's riches from expense.
They are the lords and owners of their faces,
Others but stewards of their excellence.
The summer's flower is to the summer sweet,
Though to itself it only live and die,
But if that flower with base infection meet,
The basest weed outbraves his dignity.
For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds;
Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds.

Dear Piffka,

The great Mother Nature embraces all thinkers and treats them equally without discrimination, regardless of the thikers are deep or little. I'm glad that you could be strongly touched by the natural beauties, indeed that is good for you.

I'm so flattered and humbled by your praisal. Thanks for your encouragement.

The northern clime view is really cool. But I think God has betowed so many beautiful sights that similar to it for humans on the planet, not alone in Chuckanut Drive.

The Shakespeare's poem has had a deep thinking in it!

Here is one well-loved classic poem in China:

Thinking of You

（Poem written during the night of the Mid-Autumn Festival of 1076 by Su Tung Po）

When will the moon be clear and bright?
With a cup of wine in my hand, I ask the blue sky.
I don't know what season it would be in the heavens on this night.
I'd like to ride the wind to fly home.
Yet I fear the crystal and jade mansions are much too high and cold for me.
Dancing with my moon-lit shadow
It does not seem like the human world

The moon rounds the red mansion Stoops to silk-pad doors
Shines upon the sleepless Bearing no grudge
Why does the moon tend to be full when people are apart?
People may have sorrow or joy, be near or far apart
The moon may be dim or bright, wax or wane
This has been going on since the beginning of time
May we all be blessed with longevity Though far apart, we are still able to share the beauty of the moon together.

(Translated by Shun-Yi Lee in 1998)

And the Chinese handwriting of the poem:


Best,
Oristar

Dear Oristar,

You said "Indeed, that is good for you." Do you really believe that and how did you come to think so? I also think people would be much happier if they were able to actively see the beauty in nature wherever they are. It seems though, in modern life, that idea is discounted.

Thank you for the poem you posted. Even though the Mid-Autumn Festival is past, there is a lot of truth in that poem for every day. I liked the allusion to Li Bai's "Drinking Alone with the Moon." I imagine there are many other references within the poem that I am not educated enough to see, but that one is enough to make me happy. Mostly, I liked the last lines:

Though far apart, we are still able to share the beauty of the moon together.

When I watch the moon, I think of all the other people who are looking up at the same time and enjoying it, too. It is a comforting feeling of unity.

When you mention the 300 Tang Poems on your other thread, I went searching. How silly of me not to realize that both Du Fu and Li Bai were Tang Poets! I found two good websites that print and translate all 300 Poems, and have been enjoying reading them. This website, Tang Shi has a wonderful way for non-Chinese readers to scroll over any of the Chinese characters and see a quick translation. I have enjoyed that very much. This other website from Virginia allows me to copy more easily, but the Chinese is garbled. (I think I need another bit of software for my computer.)

I found this poem and liked it very much. I like big trees. I love the way he says that the tree itself "ages the landscape" despite the newness of the temple nearby. Maybe you can explain... it made me sad to think that Du Fu says the value of the tree is its use for timber -- "yet people understand That not unless they fell it can use be made of it." Am I missing something? Is he being ironic there and the "understanding" is false? To me, there is more to a big tree than the wood that people can use for building.

Best,
Piffka

PS - You are right... many other places besides Chuckanut Drive are very beautiful. I like to think that someday you may come here & I am like a tour operator, always encouraging you to do so. :wink:


A Song of an Old Cypress
Beside the Temple of the Great Premier stands an ancient cypress
With a trunk of green bronze and a root of stone.
The girth of its white bark would be the reach of forty men
And its tip of kingfish-blue is two thousand feet in heaven.
Dating from the days of a great ruler's great statesman,
Their very tree is loved now and honoured by the people.
Clouds come to it from far away, from the Wu cliffs,
And the cold moon glistens on its peak of snow.
...East of the Silk Pavilion yesterday I found
The ancient ruler and wise statesman both worshipped in one temple,
Whose tree, with curious branches, ages the whole landscape
In spite of the fresh colours of the windows and the doors.
And so firm is the deep root, so established underground,
That its lone lofty boughs can dare the weight of winds,
Its only protection the Heavenly Power,
Its only endurance the art of its Creator.
Though oxen sway ten thousand heads, they cannot move a mountain.
...When beams are required to restore a great house,
Though a tree writes no memorial, yet people understand
That not unless they fell it can use be made of it....
Its bitter heart may be tenanted now by black and white ants,
But its odorous leaves were once the nest of phoenixes and pheasants.
...Let wise and hopeful men harbour no complaint.
The greater the timber, the tougher it is to use.

Dear Piffka,

I was entangled in my work today, so I am sorry that I will have to reply you tomorrow.

Best,

Oristar

Dear Oristar,

I'm imagining you like this:



Hope things clear up.

Best,
Piffka

Dear Piffka,

I am not a psychoanalyst, but the emotional outpourings that you naturally appreciated the unencumbered glory of Nature, like Robinson Jeffers did in his poem, revealed your true feeling, more or less -- since the information conveyed by the thread is so limited.

Glad that you found out the complete version of 300 Tang Poems!

And, don't be so sad because you've not exactly got what Du Fu meant. Yes the "understanding" is false. Du Fu described this ironically. Du Fu in fact referred the big tree to the Great Premier, Zhuge Kong Ming, or Zhuge Liang, the smartest man in Chinese history. Du Fu said common people didn't understand him until he fell; still didn't really understand him because his wisdom is beyond their grasp.

Hmm, today I still felt so tired by my work. Gotta to have a rest.

See you tomorrow.

Best,

Oristar

PS. I could not see the image in your last post.

Dear Oristar,
The photo you could not see was a big gray & black cat with a beautiful white neck. He was staring straight at the camera with forward-facing ears that seemed pink from back-lit light. He had a dignified but slightly cross-eyed expression and was surrounded / entangled with string all around him. I am sorry you missed it. He looked as though he had nearly "tamed" that string.

When you said: "I'm glad that you could be strongly touched by the natural beauties, indeed that is good for you," I thought you were expressing a belief that for all people (not just me), the view of beauty is like health-food for their spirits.

Thanks for pointing out that Du Fu's "Ancient Cypress" is a metaphor for Kongming / Zhuge Liang. Without your help I would not know these references. I appreciate it very much... thank you for being willing to teach me about them. You live in a huge country with a vast history -- mysterious and interesting to me, so whenever you tell me of some place or person, I check the internet to research it. I read Zhuge Liang is credited with inventing the wheel-barrow -- an excellent tool.

America's written history is not nearly so long... at least that which we can read... nor is it so complicated as China's. If we go back just five hundred years, there are great spaces and few people, though I have read there were large cities from Mexico to South America. (Those are also mysterious and interesting to me.)

Here is a poem that celebrates one of our presidents* following his tragic death. It never mentions his name. Instead of identifying him with a tree (a much cooler image), the poet imagines him the captain of a ship. Every other stanza is meant to be read like a dirge, a slow march of death.

O Captain! My Captain!

O Captain! My Captain! our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:

.... But O heart! heart! heart!
........ O the bleeding drops of red,
............ Where on the deck my Captain lies,
................ Fallen cold and dead.

O Captain! My Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up-for you the flag is flung-for you the bugle trills;
For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths-for you the shores a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning:

.... Here Captain! dear father!
........ This arm beneath your head;
............ It is some dream that on the deck,
................ You've fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse or will;
The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won:

.... Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!
........ But I with mournful tread,
............ Walk the deck my Captain lies,
................ Fallen cold and dead.

Walt Whitman (1819-1892)

Best,
Piffka


*Abraham Lincoln - President during the war between the states (Civil War 1861-1865). He was assassinated April 14, 1865, one week after General Lee of the Confederacy requested terms of surrender from General Grant of the Union Army.

Here is the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, D.C.