Hi Gary,
As always I admire the transformations you make of Wang Wei's poems. I
thought there was a slight overingulgence in this one with the second stanza
and allusions to one hand clapping. The only dull note you've stuck in the
series as far as I'm concerned. Hope this is of help.
bw
James
>From: Gary Blankenship <[log in to unmask]>
>Reply-To: The Pennine Poetry Works <[log in to unmask]>
>To: [log in to unmask]
>Subject: A River Transformed XIV: After Wang Wei's Lacquer Tree Garden
>(19)
>Date: Sat, 9 Oct 2004 06:34:20 -0700
>
>A River Transformed XIV: After Wang Wei's Lacquer Tree Garden (19)
>
>Before a Teacher, a Student
>
>I've harvested bitter weeds and broken rush,
>my knives sharpened with ancient stones.
>I've fed cats, studied the lyrics of crows,
>and searched a gated corral for lost oxen.
>
>I hold my left hand in front of me,
>it does not clap.
>
>My ears ring from sound of broken pottery,
>my eyes dim deciphering the difference
>between blue and green, forest and tree -
>The question unanswered, the hills empty.
>
>I pruned an apple tree to its trunk,
>it's new fruit wormy.
>
>Follow a bent old man through tall grass;
>and trousers soaked, gather barbs.
>
>
> I do not have a literal translation of this poem. Instead I offer Marsha
>Wagner's translation:
>
>That man of antiquity was not an arrogant clerk:
>He just lacked the sense of duty to govern the world.
>By chance he was lodged in a minor office,
>Withering away, several branches of a tree.
>
>Note: The poem is about a Tao philosopher, Chuang-tzu (ca 360), who
>defined
>and may have solely invented Taoism. He is known for the story:
>
>Chuang-Tzu once dreamed he was a butterfly. When he awoke, he no longer
>knew
>if he was a butterfly dreaming he was a man, or a man who had dreamed he
>was
>a butterfly.
>
>In the state of Meng, he was keeper of the Lacquer Tree Garden.
>
>
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