Snow lies thick – I hibernate.
No sound to be heard. I am all alone,
Basking in silence. At such times I know
I’m alive. Damn, that’s the phone!
Archives
Post Modernism
Four elements were ours to share:
Water, earth and fire and air.
Let’s write about Spring ….
Frozen this year the Resolutions:
- master the satnav – check on the spam -
- delete the emails – find that old letter -
- learn to get music – and what else? Oh, damn!
Me? Eighty?
Eighty last month – and lots of good eating!
My nephew, old colleagues and new friends all came
A day’s circle dancing, a trip to the ballet,
And a scrumptious lunch with old – what’s her name?
The Wanderer Grows Old – Sonnet
Ballet in Moscow and opera in Venice!
And I’ve slept on the floor of long-distance trains.
I’ve tied vines in Thrace, hoed peanuts in Israel,
In Istanbul sniffed at the spices and drains.
Two translations from the Chinese
The Deer Fence
Wang Wei (701-760)
No-one lives in these empty mountains,
Yet someone is speaking – a voice unseen.
Enter the mossy depths of the forest –
The evening sun strikes gold on green.
After three years of Chinese classes ….
In the poem a duck is paddling alone
Somewhere in China – in the northern sand,
The luxuriant south, or the airless peaks -
Too vast to match with the map is this land!
Smile, please!
I smile a lot. Like buses and sunshine
And books from the library, smiling is cheap.
I smile when I dance and chat at the till -
But mostly I smile at the thought of sleep.