THE EMPEROR’S SOLDIERS MARCH DOWN WHITE MOUND ROAD. TARTARS SEARCH THE INLETS OF THE BLUE SEA. SOLDIERS MAY TURN THEIR HEADS, THINKING OF HOME, BUT AT HOME WE NEVER SEE A RETURNING SOLDIER.
SHE IS STANDING ON THE WATCH-TOWER AGAIN TONIGHT. SORROW AND SADNESS WITHOUT END ... IS ALL. [Li Po]
THE WOMEN OF PA
UP HERE AT PA, THE RIVER SHOOTS LIKE FLYING ARROWS. LET A BOAT BE CAUGHT AND IT’S SWEPT OFF A THOUSAND MILES BEFORE THE CURRENT QUIETS DOWN.
O YOU WOMEN OF PA! HOW LUCKY FOR US YOUR HUSBANDS MUST POLE UP THIS MIGHTY RIVER TO GET HOME! [Li Po]
THE UNREWARDED POET
HERE SIT I ON A HARD WOOD BOX, STENCILED BLACK WITH THE NAME OF A SELLER OF SUGAR. THIS TABLE IS SO DIRTY ... EVEN IF I HAD FOOD, I COULD NOT EAT IT HERE.
THEN HOW CAN I WRITE OF WINE SPRINKLED WITH VIOLETS, SO YOU MAY DRINK WITH DELIGHT? HOW CAN I PROMISE: I WILL DECORATE YOUR BLUE DRESS WITH GLITTERING EMERALD JEWELS? HOW CAN I OFFER YOU A PERFECT PEAR OF GOLDEN AMBER? OR POUR PERFUMES IN A CARVED BOWL OF ROSY QUARTZ, SO YOU MAY DIP IN IT THE POINTED TIPS OF THOSE BELOVÈD PALE FINGERS? [J. Wing]
TO HIS DEAD LOVER
THE SWISHING SOUND OF SILK IS STILL. THE DUST GATHERS ON MARBLE FLOORS. THE ROOM IS HOLLOW, COLD AND SILENT. LEAVES HAVE DRIFTED AGAINST THE DOORS.