Wednesday, April 15, 2009

Jade Flower Palace by Tu Fu

The stream swirls. The wind moans in 
           

The pines. Gray rats scurry over 
           

Broken tiles. What prince, long ago, 
           

Built this palace, standing in 
         

Ruins beside the cliffs? There are 
           

Green ghost fires in the black rooms. 
           

The shattered pavements are all 
           

Washed away. Ten thousand organ 
           

Pipes whistle and roar. The storm 
     

Scatters the red autumn leaves. 
           

His dancing girls are yellow dust. 
           

Their painted cheeks have crumbled 
           

Away. His gold chariots 
           

And courtiers are gone. Only 
      

A stone horse is left of his 
           

Glory. I sit on the grass and 
           

Start a poem, but the pathos of 
           

It overcomes me. The future 
           

Slips imperceptibly away. 

Who can say what the years will bring? 

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