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Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 3479 Registered: 11-1998 |
Honorable Mention A River Transformed XVII: After Wang Wei’s Waves of Willow Trees (12) Gary Blankenship What Isn't, Is Forgotten There are no castles on our horizons; no ramparts to fly banners and warn seabirds we have fled and do not follow! Footsteps lead towards smoke tendrils, we look back to the sea as if to recall who was left behind unharvested. Your hair floats unlike kelp at low tide, fingers grasp unlike roots in soft sand, your limbs as white as split driftwood. I cannot see what you are, only what you aren't. You are flesh, blood and bone, but I see shell, beach and surf as the moon turns orange. Around and around, a toy boat floats; an old man argues its sail was ever blue. I do not have a literal translation of Wang Wei’s original poem. Instead I offer Willis and Tony Barnstone’s: Separate rows of silky willows touch, and reflections merge into clear ripples. The scene is not like the palace moat where spring wind aches with departure. Note: Pauline Yu translated aches as wounded and reflections as shadows. |
