Water, Mother
Huang He
Vibrant Yellow Beast of fine-grained loess
fierce and breaking all bounds
like a restless dragon
Dragon with fire in its belly
and that screams out of its den
Oh Life-Giver, Death-Bringer
River, Yellow River, Huang He
with animal jaws that ****, with lingering ******
and disease even after your rage -
what brought you to wildness?
such madness and ferocity - you wave away
villages, animals, women, mothers, children
and men and soldiers and trees and life;
you re-make the landscape with few brushstrokes:
black ink, swift flows, a scroll that is left sparse
Oh you who gives life at other times
with your arms of warm embrace –
Water, Mother
Huang He
Yellow of fine-grained loess -
why do you take it all away
with clawed hands of wanton, unbridled dragons?

it is Spring
and we walk here now
on the solitary mountain path;
on the branches that were bare but yesterday
are new leaves, fresh and unfurling;
and a few sprigs scattered about
on the shoulders of the path

the rocks are shaped and weathered;
Nature’s thumbs and fingers
have pressed the earth the way its Dao flows
There is a bird on a bare branch
and another sings its song, hovering in the cool air

And we, we two -
now walking on this path in Spring –
though we strive, and though we aspire
we too are but living beings
Nature will fold and discard, after use
gently or as it wishes
after use

Da da sum
Bam bam lum
Sing and dance
jump and laugh
all the way -
it’s end of day
All light hours
we’ve worked
in the fields
bent double
Da da sum
Bam bam lum
Small breaks
in the shade we had
all the dumplings we ate
all the soup we drank –
and now, hey, hey, hey
a little each
of the rice wine drink
as we hop and jump
and sing and dance
Jump and laugh
all the way
Home, home, home
Da da sum
Bam bam lum

The Mother’s Song

under the
horse-chestnut tree
in the shade
with my little darling
are the loveliest moments
Laugh aloud
sweet angel
Wave those arms
like you’d fly like a bee
in the open
Darling of my life
this moment
will always be in my mind
like a coin closed tight
in a pauper’s palm



The Child, now an adult, remembers the Mother’s Song**

there were days
those were the days
when my mum held me in her arms
under the
horse-chestnut tree
in the shade
and there she sang me her songs
and whispered me her gentle words
and held me close to her radiant face
Those were the days,
that the time,
when my mother’s voice
filled the space
and my being
under the
horse-chestnut tree
in the shade

See, do you see?
free cat roams
free cat lives its multiple lives
curly tail and rich fur and shiny eyes
across the Korean landscape of Jeong Seon;
and do you hear?
Free cat purrs:

*“it’s nice, dear Cat God
to be free and open
and I like it I owe you no obedience
unlike those miserable humans;
in your wisdom
you make crickets and large insects appear
and I make them disappear –
you and I are equal partners in the cycle of life,
dear Cat God;
and a rat in the wild
and some water in a secluded pool
and all these fresh air and hidden nests
I like all that, I like it this way
(And I don’t a give a meow or cat-**** for humans
and their elegant cats lying on cushions)
And of course,
when the passion seizes me
in here in the open,
there’s always a ***** cat, ready and wet
and we wail and meow all night
Hey Cat God -
I like it this way, feral in the wild”

the dark-thought clouds hang heavy
above
and on the heads of the trees
that stand like lanky children in assembly
the sun spreads its end–of-day grace;
and so you will remember, perhaps
oh end of day and sun and trees
and the pensive air that envelopes all this evening -
you will remember, perhaps -
to conspire forth such an evening
the last hours of my days
if you will remember, perhaps

...the scholar in this poem's companion painting has such an unhappy expression that this poem turns out humorous almost of its own accord...


****! - there are, I know, intellectuals
there back in the distant court
who want to be exiled here to the mountains
And they’d like to lie down like this
like I’m doing now
amidst the trees, on a rock, watching the river flow
and they’d sure like this solitude and quiet
But ****! Not me! I didn’t choose this!
I was just minding my own business -
what was it - 10 years ago? and we learned men
and we were all walking in the Royal Garden with the King
and we were discussing most cleverly about such lofty matters
and I was just behind the King
when he farted
and I waved off the smell with my right hand before my face
and he turns round just at that moment, and he says:
“What is the matter with you?
Here we are the Esteemed Intellectuals of the Court
in the Royal Garden discoursing of Such Lofty Matters
and you stand behind me with a monkey face and gestures?
Out with you! Here is your choice – you gesturing monkey!
The Butcher will cut off that gesturing hand of yours
or would you rather retire now into the woods like a monkey?”
And so it was, that’s how I was sent here
about a decade ago
now in the secluded woods, far from the city
in these quiet and still mountains
and now I sing in misery to myself:
“O all things are quiet
and at peace here
in the country
There are the trees and the vines
and the birds
and the rocks, and so much time –
O but my life is misery
all undone by a Royal ****!
O ****! O ****! Why me! Why me!”