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Hermes Varini Oct 2022
FEODALI SEPTIMA ALTAQVE METALLI AC SOLIS MEA HIC VINDICTA
PROFVNDVM DENVO HVIVS HASTILVDII DICITVR FVLMEN PROFVNDE MEVM
RVBRA IN LAPIDE HIEMIBVSQVE AC MEO IN METALLICO FEVDO
QVIA SICVT AVTEM ALTAS INTRA HASTLVDII MEI FLAMMAS
SCORPIONIS FERRVM ILLVSTRAT SIGNVM AC ARGENTVM LVNAM
ITA FEODALIS MAXIME OVERMAN MEO IN CLYPEO SIVE SPECVLO
ILLVSTRATVR ILLE VIR FEODALE EXTRAMVNDANVS HIC FVLMINE
ET SIC SECVRIS ILLVSTRATIVA ERIT MAGNÆ EX IGNE VLTIONIS
MEO HIC IN CASTELLO MVLTARVM SANGVINE OBSIDIONVM RVBRO

FEODALIS IMAGO HOC EX SPECVLO DVELLI MEA

SIVE

ΔEYPO TO ΔE EMON EIΔΩΛON AYΘIΣ
ΠYΡΦOΡΩ ΚAΤΟΠΤΡΩ KAI EN TH ΜAΧΗ

AC FEODALE MEO SI OVERMAN FVLMINE HOC IN DVELLO

FEODALES CVM FERRO HIC MEÆ SANGVINEO TERRÆ

ALTE EX IGNE NVNC ET IRA CVM RVBRA CANO IN SPECVLO CHALYBE MEA

FEODALIS SIT MAXIME OVERMAN AC SANGVINE HVIVS CÆRVLEO IGNIS

MEO IN HASTLVDII HOC CHALYBE SPECVLO FVLMINE DIGNVS

AC FEODALEM CVM PLAGAM HASTA IMAGINIS THORACATÆ ACCIPIEBAM MEÆ

PRIMORDIALIS EX FVLMINE CONDITIO OVERMAN ET IGNEM FERENS RVBRVM

EX FEODALE CVM IRA MEA NECNON FLAMMA HIC RVBRA

FEVDI NIHILO SECVS HIC TONITRVO CVM VOCE MEI

DE FEVDO FVLMINIS IN FIDE RVBRIS MEO

FEODALE HIC MEA VEHEMENTER FORTITVDO OVERMAN HOC NOMINE ALTA FVLMINE

DE FEVDO MEO HOSTIVM MEORVM ET MEA CVM SPATHA PROFVNDE RVBRO IN SANGVINE TINCTO

FEDODORVM FVLMINE RECVRSVS POTENTIÆ HIC MEORVM AD SIDERA ALTO

FEODALIS OBSCVRATA MEA CVM VMBRA HOC FVLMINE PROFVNDA NOCTIS REFVLGENS LVNA

AD FEVDIS LONGE CVM MANSIT VINDEX OBSCVRVS OCCVLTVSQVE DIRECTVS ET FEODALI SOLI

ET FEODALE ARIETIS HOC SIGNO SATVRNO CVM PLANETA SPLENDENDO

FEVDO AC PROFVNDE RVRBA NE ÆRVGONE CVM SECVRIS SED SANGVINE MEO

ET FEVDA CVM MEA HOSTES SINE TRIVMPHO ADORIVNTVR MEI

FEODALE OVERMAN EX SPECVLO CHALIBE ILLE DOMINVS VLTORQVE HIC MEO IN DVELLO

FEODALEM IN VVLNERE SIVE VLYSSEI SANGVINEO TENEBIT LAMINAM

QVA RE

FVLMINE MEO RECVRSVS POTENTIÆ

EX FEVDO MEO AC HASTILVDII INDE FVLMINE RVBRO

GRÆCA HIC CVM VOCE SIVE FVLMINE SPATHAQVE ALTA

ΠANTH KAI ΠANTAXOY KATOΠTPΩ THΣ AΣΠIΔOΣ

EΞ TOY ΠYPOΣ TO EMON EIΔΩΛON O OVERMAN

ΩΣ ΠPOΣ TON ΔE TITANA H ΠΕPIOXH EΣTIN

ΠPOOΔOΣ KAI ΔE KAI ΓONIMOΣ ΣTAΣIΣ ΩΔE

QVA RE DENVO

THΔE O ΔE ΑIΟΛΟΒΡOΝΤΗΣ ΒΑΣΙΛΕYΣ OY

EΠI TΩ ΘPONΩ TΩN ΔE AΣTEPOΠΩN NYN

OY TO KRATOΣ KAI H BIA TOY ΔE PYROΣ

QVA RE MEO FVLMINE EX HASTILVDIO DENVM

NEMO VIR EST VIR NOMINE HOC ALTO

DONEC SPATHA SCVTOQVE CEPERIT AC PERCVSSERIT MVLTA

SIC RVBRO OVERMAN DIXIT MIHI SIVE TO EMON EIΔΩΛON FVLMINE

FEODALE CHALIBE HIC IN SPECVLO ET IGNEO HOC CVM SIGILLO

QVA RE DENVO

HASTILVDII CÆRVLEO HOC CVM IGNE DEMVM MEI

OVERMAN REX HIC SPECVLO SIVE PVGNÆ SCVTO SPATHAQVE MEÆ ILLE

ET SIT QVOD EST IN SE EX OVERMAN REGE FVLMINE

MEA DEINDE IN SPECVLO SVA METALLICA MANVS OMNIPOTENS SPATHA

QVA RE DENVO

MEO HIC CVM SCVTO SIVE CLARISSIMO FVLMINE CHALIBEQVE DVELLI SPECVLO MEI

VBI EST IMAGO FEODALE FVLMINE MEA HOC IN DVELLO CVM PVGNAE ROSA

STAT FEODALIS OVERMAN TO ΔE EIΔΩΛON GRÆCO CVM NOMINE MEO HIC EX FEVDO

ET CVM MVLIER FORMOSA SOLE AMICTA HOC LOCO HILDEGARDA NOMINE MEA

AC INTRA FLAMMAS SENSVALIS PRÆSENS ILLA DENVO HOC LOCO PHVLCHERRIMA ALTAS

FEODALE ANTE CARNALEM NOSTRAM CONIVCTIONEM ANTE LVCIS ADVENTVM IGNE SACRO

DEINDE FVLMINE OVERMAN DENVO NOMINE MEO

FEVDA CVM MEA AC IGNEA CVM MEA MAXIME SECVRE EGO

COMES IV DE ARMANHAC ET DVX DE MONFORTZ ARMATIS ADORIVNTVR EQVIS

FEODALIVM SPATHA RVBRA CVM SANGVINE QVA RE HOSTIVM MEA

AD FEVDI SIDERA MEI POTENTIA SECVREQVE

ESSE SIVE POTENTIA EST OVERMAN

ET CVM EGO SPATHÆ MEÆ FVLMINE HOSTES MEOS

SICVT FEODALE ALTAQVE IRA CVM MEA

GERALDVS DE PLASAC ET WILLELMVS DE ARTENSA CVM GIDEON DEGLEMIS SCOTVS

ET PETRVS DE COLSORN ET GERALDVS DE JORNAC

AC MARTIS ÆNOBARDVS TREVIRENSIS COMES RAPAX IMPLACABILISQVE

GENTES QVI MAGNAM IN EAMDEM ACCEDEBANT INFAMIAM

ET GAVBERTVS DE MARTEL ET PETRVS GVIDONIS DE AVTAFORT ÆQVALITER

IRA CVM MEA METALLICO EX FEVDO

ET PETRVS DE ESPARTINAC CVM RAMNALDVS MALMIROS ET GOFERIVS DE VIGENOR

AC DEMVM BERTRANDVS ET AVDEBERTVS COMITES FEODALE IN TERRA

EGO SPATHA SCVTOQVE IN FVLMINE CVM DICO ALIQVID HOC DVELLO ADIBAM

EST OVERMAN REX QVI VERE DICITVR IN SPECVLO MAXIME VLTOR

RVBRA DRACONIS SEPTEM CAPITIBVS HAC IN SPIRALE ILLE CAVDA

FEODALIS VIDEX QVI MAGNAM HISTORIÆ DONAVIT POTENTIAM HOC SCVTO SIVE METALLICO SPECVLO

FEVDORVM EX IRA MEORVM CVM FEODALE HAC VISIONE MEA HIC FVLMINE MAXIME DISTINCTA

FEODALEM APVD CASTELLVM DE RIBEIRAC HOC TEMPORE IN MANV PRIORIS ARCHAMBAVDI INDIGNA

FEODALE MEA CVM SPATHA VEXILLAQVE FEVDI HIC MEI EX FVLMINE CRVORE RVBRA

FEODALIS METALLICVS DEINDE EGO AMICTVS AC RELVCENS CHALIBE HOC RVBRA IN SANGVINE PVGNA

FEODALE MEMORIA SPATHAQVE CONTRA HIC REMINISCOR

GERALDVS DE SALIS ET AVDEBERTVS DE BIGORRHA DECANVS NOMINE GRIFAGNVS HIC INDIGNE

ET GVIDVS DE MONTAGNAC MARTINAS SIMVL VLGERIVS DE VRGEL ABBAS INFAMIÆ ILLE CVSTOS

ET ARCHAMBAVDVS DE TRAHINAC ET AMLARDVS VICECOMES DE CONBORN ANNO MCLXXVIII

AC DENVO EGO WISIGOTHORVM GENERE SECVRE MEA REMINISCOR

FEVDI HOC IN DVELLO EGO ARMATVS DEMVM MEI CONTRA ITERIVS DE WARO

EST SPECVLVM CORPVS FVLMINE DIAPHANVM AD RECIPIENDVM DISPOSITVM PERSONAM OVERMAN NOMINE MEAM

EX CHALIBE EI RAPRÆSENTATAM HOC CVM MEO EXTRAMVNDANO CRVORE AC RVBRO IN FEVDO

FEODALE MEA HAC SPATHA VBI HELIAS DE AIENNO ET GERALDVS ET GAVFRIDVS DE TELLOL

PARCITE HOSTES MEI NVNC PROCEDERE HOC MEO MINIMVM IN DVELLO

FEVDA DE SICARDVS RASA CVM RAIMVNDVS DE AVINHO ILLIC TONITRVO VICI ET GOLFERIVS DE LA TOR

FEODALIS EST OVERMAN DENVO FVLMINE IMAGO SIVE TO EIΔΩΛON RVBRO

SECVNDVM ESSE AC SECVNDVM RATIONEM MEA HIC METALLICA

ET IGNIS ACTVS DEMVM INTER OMNIA ILLE VINDEX PERFECTISSIMVS

FEVDORVM ATQVE EX IGNE MEORVM ALTO

QVOD VERVM SICVT OVERMAN EST FVLMINE
SEMEL EST FVLMINE SEMPER VERVM

AC VTRVM POSSIT SEMPER TONITRVO OMNE QVOD HOC IN TONITRVO POSSIT ILLE VLTOR

FEVDORVM ATQVE EX IGNE MEORVM ALTO

QVIDEM PRIMVS STATVS AD OVERMAN ASCRIBITVR
AD ESSE SICVT POTENTIÆ ESSE SECVNDVS

ET TERTIVS MVTATIONI IN POTENTIA INCREMENTO TOTALITER MEO EX SPECVLO DVELLO

QVA RE EX FEVDO MEA MAXIMA IRA MEO

SIT PER OVERMAN FEODALEM VLTOREM FORMA
EX IGNE HAC VINDICTAQVE MAXIME LIVIDA

EX FEDVDORVM ATQVE IRA MEORVM

MVTATIO SIVE REVOLVTIO SIVE POTENTIÆ INCREMENTVM AD INFINITVM IGNEVM

FEODALE CVM FVLMINE EST OVERMAN

QVA RE DENVO

FEODALE CVM MODO VOCEQVE DENVO

OVERMAN EST MAXIME OVERMAN

SIVE

FEVDIS VERVS VIR EXTRAMVNDANVS AC VNICVS REX VINDEXQVE SVPREMVS

FEODALE SICVT MEO FROFVNDE HIC EX IGNE ADHVC

AC FEODALE HIC STAT AC VINCIT IN PERSONA OVERMAN NOMINE

FEODALIS SPATHA HARMONICA POTENTIÆ ET FORTITVDINIS TRIAS MEA

FEODALES SIVE FACTA AC CONCEPTIO AC PRINCIPIVM MAXIME IGNEVM

EX FEVDO REVOLVVNT HISTORIÆ CVM ÆTATES ET TEMPORA

DE FEVDIS SIVE IN POTENTIÆ RECVRSV DRACONIS RVBRIS IGNE SPIRÆ

FEVDORVM EX FVLMINE O ΔE ΟYΡΟΒOΡΟΣ HIC HASTA SCVTOQVE MEO

SIVE MEO DE FEVDO

FEODALEM SERPENS QVI SVAM DEVORAT SINE FINE CAVDAM

AC CVM FEODALE HIC EX MEO SIGILLO VOCE SEPTIMA IGNEO LIBRI

FEODALIS MEI ANNO MCLXXXVII SANGVINIS ALTI

ET FELIX HIC MAXIME VICTOR FVLMEN RECVRSV MEVS

SIVE MERIDIE HASTILVDII ALTO HAC CVM MEA HORA

IN TEMPLO SPATHA DICO VOS HOSTES MEIS ALBO

HVIVS EX FVLMINE HASTILVDII AC MEO HOC IN SPECVLO

FEODALEM SPATHAM CVM DESTRINGO MEAM HOSTIVM HIC SANGVINE RVBRAM

EX SPECVLO OCCVLTI FVLMINE MANIFESTATIO SIVE ΦAINEIN AC KPYΦIΩΣ OVERMAN

SIVE REMOTA AB OCCVLTIS ERVMPIT ILLE TONITRVS NATVRA AC TO ΦAΣΜΑ SVIS

FEODALE HIC FVLMINE AC HASTA MEA SCVTOQVE

SEPTEM CAPITIBVS APPAREAT DRACO

SIVE

FEODALIS O ΔE ΔΡAΚΩΝ APOCALYPSEOS RVBER

DE FEVDIS ALTE MEIS AC MEÆ HAC IGNEA CVM PROPHETIA TONITRVOQVE VLTIONIS

RVBRVM IN CERTAMINE RIVELATVR OVERMAN NOMINE SIGNVM

FEODALES ÆQVO CVM ADORIOR BELLATORES IN MEMORIA AC VVLNERIBVS

SPATHA SCVTOQVE IN OVERMAN SVPREMA ESSENTIA

FEVDORVM HOC IN TEMPORE HASTILVDII ALTO

STAT METALLICA MEA FVLMINIS PERSONA IGNEA CERTAMINIS ROSA

FEODALIBVS HIS SPATHIS INTRA PVGNÆ FORMAM AC CÆDIS

FEVDALEM SCVTO TO EIΔΩΛON POLITISSIMO CHALIBE CONSPICOR ILLEM RECVRRENTEM

VIDICEM ILLEM SIVE IMAGIMEM MEAM HOC IN HASTILVIDIO HIC METALLICAM

EX FEVDO MEO GRÆCO CVM NOMINE METALLICO AC MEA CVM HASTA

KEPAYNOΣ EI Ω OVERMAN

AΛHΘΩΣ TO ΠYP TΩN ΔE TITANΩN

KEPAYNOΣ EI Ω OVERMAN

O ΠYPΩ TA ONTA ΣYΣTHΣAMENOΣ

KEPAYNOΣ EI Ω OVERMAN

OY TO ΠYP TEΛEITAI IΔIAIΣ ΔYNAMEΣI

KEPAYNOΣ EI Ω OVERMAN

TO ΔE ΠΡΩΤΟΝ ΚΙΝΟYΝ THΣ IΣTOPIAΣ

KEPAYNOΣ EI Ω OVERMAN

O ΔE IΣXYPOTEPOΣ ΠAΣHΣ ΔYNAMEΩΣ

KEPAYNOΣ EI Ω OVERMAN

O KPEITTΩN TΩN ΔE KEPAYNΩN

KAI TΩN EΠAINΩN ΩΣAYTΩΣ

KEPAYNOΣ EI Ω OVERMAN

H HΛIΩ ΛΑΜΠΡA KAI ΦΑΕΙΝH AΣΠIΣ

QVIA

DE FEVDO AC SVB HOC TEMPORE SEPTIMO CVM WANDALIS NOMINE GENTIBVS

DESTRVCTIO OCCASVS EST OVERMAN FVLMINE

FEODALIS HOC IN SCVTO SIVE DVELLI SPECVLO MEI

ATQVE

FEODALIVM TERRARVM HIC NOMINE AC INTERCESSIO MEA EX FVLMINIS SIGNO RVBRIS

SVPREMVS INDE RECVRRENS POTENTIÆ INCREMENTO OVERMAN VINDEX

REX SIVE AΝΑΞ HOC IN HASTILVDIO GRÆCO CVM APOFTHEGMA MEO

FEODALI MEIS HIC FERRO AC HASTA VINDICTÆ

EX IGNEO MEO HASTILVDIO PLANETA MARTIS HIC NOMINE RVBRO

FEODALIS OVERMAN SIVE METALLICVS MEA HASTA SCVTOQVE IMAGO IN SPECVLO

VINDEX ILLE DEORVM HABET IN SE IGNEAM CVM FVLMINE NATVRAM SVPREMVS

QVA RE DENVO

FEODALE FVLMINE HAC TERRA IGNEA EX SOLE NIHILO SECVS FEODORVM METALLICO

SIC MEO DEFINITVR OVERMAN SPECVLO ILLE VINDEX QVI MAIOR EST QVAM SVBSTANTIA VIRI MAGNVS

FEVDI MEI IRA MAXIME NVNC ALTA ET SANGVINE MEO CÆRVLEO SEMPER

AC CASTELLO MEO CVM VEXILLA VENTIS RVBRA HIC HIEMIS

TALIS COMPOSITIONIS STAT SPECVLVM NOMINE QVALIS EX CHALIBE MEVS MIHI OVERMAN VINDEX

EX FEVDO QVA RE DEMVM MEO

FEODORVM FVLMINE MEORVM AC CASTELLI MEI RVBRA VEXILLA DENVO

FEODALE MEA CVM VOCE DENVO VOS MEIS SPATHA HOSTES IPSA

AC DE FEVDO HIC MALEDICTIONE VENTIS HOC TONITRVO MEI MAXIME ALTA

MAXIMA RATIO FVLMINE AC ACVMEN MVTATIONE MEVM

BERSERKR SVÁ GYLÐIR ÞAR MEÐR ATGANGA JAFN-SNIMMA

SIVE PLENILVNIO LVPVS

FEODALIS CVM SPECVLVM VINCIT SIVE CHALIBE POLITISSIMO DVELLI SCVTVM MEI

AC IGNEO SANGVINE CVM MEO HIC VVLNEREQVE FEODALE HOC DVELLO

PVRISSIMVS EST OVERMAN ALTO IN NATVRIS SVIVS FVLMINE AC RVBRO

FEVDA MEA CVM THOR DEVS SECVRE MALLEOQVE LAVDAT PROFVNDE ILLE FLAVVS

IMMIXTVS STAT ILLE NONNVLLIS ACCIDENTIBVS SINE ELEMENTALI MATERIA VLTOR SVPREMVS

FEODALIBVS VEXILLIS REGIS CVM PRODEVNT FVLMINIS OVERMAN NOMINE

STAT MAXIME FVLMINE CORPORALITER AC MAXIMA MEA CVM IGNEA NATVRA HOC SPECVLO PVGNÆ

FEODALIS MEVS CVM TRIVMPHVS EX IGNE AGIT PROFVNDO SANGVINIS MEI

AC NEC MIRERIS DE HOC HOSTES MEIS SPATHA RVBRA MEA VEXILLAQVE ET DRACONIS

MAGIS CERTE QVAM ALTERIVS HOC LOCO SANGVINIS ELEMENTI

FEODALIBVS EX MEO CASTELLO DENVO SANGVINE VOSTRO CVM TVRRIS TINCTO

QVA RE DENVO

FEODALE CVM VOCE EX CIVITATE VBI DRACONES SVNT ET SEPTEM TRIONES THVLE HIC NOMINE

FEODALIS NEMO ME HOC LOCO LACESSIT PROCVL IMPVNE SPATHA

AC FEODALIVM SECVRE SIVE FVLMINE TERRARVM SANGVINE TINCTARVM EX MEA VINDICTA VOSTRO

NVNC PRODIT DRACONIS MEVS A SEPTEMPTRIONE RVBRIS ORDO

FEVDIS MEIS CVM RVBER BELLI FVLMEN AC RECVRSVS DONABANT POTENTIÆ LAVDES

FEODALIS ERGO OVERMAN HABET IN SE FVLMINIS NATVRAM EX SPECVLO PVGNÆ

FEODALE RECVRSVS MEA FVLMINE ET VIRTVTE ALTA SIVE IRA

FEODALE HIC IN SPECVLO SIVE DVELLI SCVTO CHALIBE MEI FVLMINE POLITISSIMO EX FVLMINE

TΩ ΔE EIΔΩΛΩ ENTAYΘA

EX FEVDO MEO DENVO GRÆCO ET RVBRA HAC IN LAPIDE IGNE INSCRIPTA

FEODALE NECNON HIC ET NVNC SAPIENTIA CVM VOCE LAVDIS

INTRA HASTILVDII MEI ANTIQVO CVM NOBILI NOMINE FLAMMAS AC MEA CASTRA

NVNC PONO TALIS COMPOSITIONIS SPECVLVM FIERI ET FORMÆ POLITISSIMO FERRO MARTIS PLANETÆ

QVOD TOTA COMBVSTIBILIS FIAT IGNEA VNA LVX ITA QVOD FEODALE MODO

APPOSITVM CASTELLI VEL OPPIDI VEL CIVITATE ALIQVA SINE FINE OPPOSITVM COMBVRAT EVM

FEODALE MODO SIC OVERMAN DIXIT MIHI HOC DVELLI SPECVLO MEA SPATHAQVE

SIVE TO ΕIΔΩΛΟΝ PROFVNDE EX IGNE FLAMMAQVE ILLE MEVS

FEVDORVM MEORVM HAC DEMVM CVM VOCE FVLMINE GRÆCORVM MAXIME PROFVNDA

AEI H ΜHΝΙΣ ΤΩΝ ΔE ΘΕΩΝ O ΔE OVERMAN EΣTIN

THΣ ΔE ΠOΛEΩΣ TΩN IΕΡAΚΩΝ OY O ΤΙΜΩΡOΣ

AYΘIΣ KAI ΔE ΩΣTE IΕΡAΚΩΝ ΠOΛIΣ

FEVDA HIC PRODEVNT RVBRA EX VEXILLA MEA BELLI ALTAQVE VENTO MALEDICTIONIS MEÆ ALTO

IN QVO FEODORVM FVLMINE MEORVM

FEODALE SANGVNIS SIGNO MEI HOC IGNE DVELLI RVBRO

VIRTVTES CONVERTVNTVR ELEMENTORVM AD FINEM

QVI STAT OVERMAN NOMINE IN INCREMENTO SIVE EX FLAMMIS POTENTIÆ RECVRSV

FEVDI MEI SIVE CASTELLI LAPIDE MAGNA AC MVLTIS OBSIDIONIBVS RVBRA

SICVT ATRAHENDVM EST ADAMANTE FERRVM SICVT AD OVERMAN POTENTIA DENVO IN INCREMENTO

FEVDO AC SCVTO CHALIBE DENVO POLITISSIMO SIVE SPECVLO HAC IN PVGNA MEO

VBI OVERMAN REX MIHI APPAREAT SIVE IMAGO TOTALITER SVPREMVS MEA

STAT MAIORITAS IN OVERMAN EX FVLMINE ALTORIVM RESPECTV ETIVM MAGNA

FEVDORVM ALTA MEA CVM CONCORDIA VEXILLAQVE DENVM

FEODALE MEA HIC SPATHA CVM POLITISSIMO CHALIBE MEÆ PVGNÆ HIC SCVTO

AC FEODALIS CVM SEPTIMA QVOQVE MEA HORA APOCALYPSEOS RVBRÆ ALTA

IDCIRCO H OYΣIA SIVE ESSENTIA TONITRVO OVERMAN EST FVLMINE

EXTRAMVNDANVS VIR ILLE CAVSA QVÆ MAXIME ESSE DEDIT VNICVS

ILLE REX H OYΣIΩΣIΣ FVLMINE NOMINE MEO HOC IN HASTILVDIO

NECNON YΦIΣTAΣΘAI VINDEX ILLE IN HASTILVDII SPECVLO MEI METALLICVS

QVA RE

VT IAM EX FVLMINE VOCIS FEODALE DIXI

EST OVERMAN FVLMINIS SVBSTANTIA MEA A QVO ESSE OMNIVM PROFICISCITVR

FEODALE CVM VOCE NECNON ALTA VENTO MEA HIC VEXILLAQVE

ET SIT MEA TRANSMVTATIO AD OVERMAN POLITISSIMO CHALIBE SCVTO SIVE SPECVLO CÆRVLEA

FEODALE OCCVLTO PLANETA CHALIBE POLITISSIMO NECNON EX FVLMINE

QVIA FEVDALE MEO CVM SANGVINE INSVPER

FEVDORVM VLTIO AC VEXILLA CASTELLI SVPER TVRRES DRACONE MEI RVBRA

PVGNÆ PVLCRITVDO IGNE NOCTIS OBSCVRÆ

VBI PARTA MEÆ SPATHAE SVNT MAXIME MVNERA

FEVDVM CVM MEVM HOSTES NON OCCVPANT MEI ARMIS

FEODALIS IVSTITIA SIVE OVERMAN

AC EX FEVDO IGNEO MEO

FEODALIS PRVDENTIA SIVE OVERMAN

AC EX FEVDO IGNEO MEO

FEODALIS FORTITVDO SIVE OVERMAN

AC EX FEVDO IGNEO MEO

FEODALIS TEMPERANTIA SIVE OVERMAN

AC EX FEVDO IGNEO MEO

FEODALIS FIDES MAXIMA IN OVERMAN SIVE POTENTIA

AC EX FEVDO IGNEO MEO

FEODALIS SPES SIVE HAVD SPES

SED FEODALIS VOLVNTAS RVBRA POTENTIÆ

AD OVERMAN IGNE CVM ANTIQVO SEMPER DIRECTA

AC EX FEVDO IGNEO MEO

FEODALIS PRINCIPIVM IN FVLMINE OVERMAN NOMINE EX CHALYBE

AC EX FEVDO IGNEO MEO

FEODALIS FINIS SIVE FEODORVM VINDICTA RVBRORVM

AC FVLMINE DEMVM EX MEO FEVDO IGNEA MEA SPATHAQVE

FEODALE MEO EQVO MAXIME ARMATO CVM HASTA BAIART NOMINE ALBOQVE

STAT OVERMAN PROFVNDE

COMPOSITVS ILLE RVBRO AC TERRÆ FVLMINE SIVE VINDEX IMMORTALIS ET REX

DE FEVDO METALLICA EX ANIMA CORPOREQVE HOC PVGNÆ SPECVLO SIVE SCVTO

FEVDI MAXIMA EX VLTIONE ET GOTHORVM ET QVADORVM ET LANGOBARDORVM MEI

DICVNTVR HIC OVERMAN ET VALIDVS VIR SANGVINE

A MATERIA AC MAGNITVDINE SEPARATI POTENTIÆ

ET DVPLEX SIT NVNC IMAGO OVERMAN NOMINE MEA RVBRO IGNEQVE

FEODALE HIC ETIAM GRÆCA CVM VOCE AD SIDERA FVLMINE DIRECTA

TO EMON EIΔΩΛON KAI ΔE TO EMON ΕIΔΟΣ

ENTAYΘA ΣYN TΩ ΔE EΓXEIPIΔIΩ

KATOΠTPΩ KAI ΔE ΚΕΡΑΥΝΩ TΩN ΘΕΩN

AΔEΩΣ O ΔE OVERMAN AΝΑΞ

ET FEVDVM RESVRGIT NVNC MEVM HOC SANGVINIS LOCO MIHI VNICVM SPATHA

QVOAD

MAGNA CVM IRA EX FEVDIS DE MONTSEGVR MEIS CATHARORVM HIC NOMINE

FEODALE MEO IN HASTILVDIO ET PROFVNDE PRÆTERA

STAT FINIS ID FVLIMINE CERTEQVE

IN QVO EX OVERMAN

FODALEM AD NOCTEM REGE ILLE VINDICE MEO HOC IN SPECVLO

ET CVM SOLE FEVDI MEI AC MEA HIC CAREVLEA CVM DVELLI HASTA

PRINCIPIVM MAGNVM FVLMINE FEODALE CVM DENVO NOMINE

MAXIME NON QVIESCIT

POTENTIÆ MEO HIC ET NVNC RECVRSV IN FEODALE ATQVE VNIVERSALE

AC FEODALIS MAIORITAS SIVE POTENTIÆ VOLVNTAS ATQVE RECVRSVS AD OVERMAN FVLMINE

EX FEODO MEO MVLTIS CVM OBSIDIONIBVS NOCTIS FVLMINE MEÆ RVBRO

NON POSSIT QVOVIS MODO SINE OVERMAN EXISTERE SVBSTANTIA

FEVDALE HOC IN LOCO AC HAC SAXOSA IN INSCRIPTIONE ITERVM

NVNC AD SIDERA ALTA CVM FLAMMA AC TONITRVO MEA IPSA VOX

MANABAT CHALIBIS PLANETA MEVS OCCVLTAM POTENTIAM ILLIC OCCVLTVS

FEODALIS ATQVE DENVO FVLMINIS GRÆCORVM VOCE IPSIVS

AC RVBRO MAXIME HOC METALLICO MEO IN HASTILVDIO

ΩΣ EΦHN EΓENETO OYN

OΛΩΣ ΔIA THN ΔE EMHN ΜΟΝΟΜΑΧIAN

EΞ TOY ΔE KEPAYNOY EΚΕI ΚAΤΩ EN CKYΘIAI

TO ΔE ΣYΜΒΟΛΟΝ THΣ EMHΣ TIMΩPIAΣ
ΔIA THEΣ BAPEIAΣ ΦΩΝHΣ TOY ΔE ΠYPOΣ
ΔEYPO EMH ΦΩΝH O ΔE OVERMAN AΝAΞ EΣTIN
EN TΩ ΔE KYANEΩ BAΘEI Ω HΔIΣTH ΔYNAMIΣ

FEVDI MEI HIC CONCORDIA AC DENVO HOC IN HASTILVDIO

FVLMINE ΔIA TO EIΔΩΛON AVT OVERMAN AVT NIHIL PVGNÆ ALTVM

FEODALE DVELLI CÆRVLEO IN SCVTO CHALIBE POLITISSIMO SIVE SPECVLO SANGVINE MEO

QVA RE CVM FEODALE MEA IRA DEMVM

FEODALIS OVERMAN NVNC PRODIT HASTILVDII EX FVLMINE MEI CVM IGNEA ROSA

MEA DEINDE CVM SECVRE HIC INCISA INSCRIPTIONE LAPIDE GERMANICA DVELLI

NU DÆGEHWELC SWĀ HÆÐA BEÐEÞ BRYNEWELMUM,

QVA RE

FEODALE CVM ARGENTEO DE AQVINO CALICE AMARIORE SVPRA FLAMMAS REGIONIS

VBI RICARDVS IPSE DVX AC GAVCERAN DVRTZ HOC IN FEODALE TEMPORE MEO SIMVL

OBSCVRAS EX IGNE FEODALES DONAVERANT FALCONIS MIHI VEXILLAS

QVA RE DE FEVDO MEO

ET SANGVINE SIVE SEPTEM CAPITIBVS NECTAR DRACONI

FEODALE RVBRÆ EX IGNE DENVO NOMINE APOCALYPSEOS ARMIS CONCORDIAQVE

FEVDORVM CVM ALTA DENVO ARMA TERGO HIC MEORVM

FEVDA CVM SANGVINE PROFVNDE VBI LVCENT HAC DEMVM TERRA IGNEO MEA

H ΔE EMH ΚΥΛΙΞ ΔIA THN EΠIΦANEIAN

KAI ΔE KAI ΦΩNH AΛHΘΩΣ

G. R. A. I. L.

SIVE FEODALE FVLMINE AC FEVDIS CVM MEIS CÆRVLEO

GRATE REX AQVITANIÆ IGNE LIBER

SIVE

EX FEVDO CVM FOEDERE SACRALIS IGNIS MEO

FEODALE IN POTENTÆ RECVRSCV SIVE FVLMINE ANVLO

MEO IN SPECVLO SANGVINE CHALIBE POLITISSIMO SIVE SCVTO ET FEVDI

AC DENVO FEODALE CVM ANAGRAMMATE HIC EX IGNE ALTO

V. X. D.

SIVE EX FEVDO MEO

FEODALIVM ET SANGVINE PROFVNDE HOSTIVM TINCTO MEORVM

VINDEX XYSTO DÆMON

SIVE EX FEVDO MEO AC EX FLAMMAS FEVDI ALTAS MEI CVM IGNE ALTO RVBRAS

AC FEODALE ALTA SANGVINE CVM VOCE ET GRÆCORVM

O ΔE OVERMAN

TO EMON ΔAIMΩN AEI

FVLMINE AC SPECVLO SIVE TΩ EIΔΩΛΩ

SIVE EX FEVDO DENVM MEO

ET FEODALE CVM VOCE HIC GERMANICA

AB MEO EX FVLMINE FEVDO PROXIMA MAXIME

ŌFER-MANNES GECWED

QVIA

FEVDORVM CVM DENVO MEORVM IRA

REDDE MIHI POTENTIAM SPATHA OVERMAN NOMINE AC RENOVATIONEM SANGVINIS FVLMINE

FEODALIS VBI VOX IPSA SCVTO RESVRGIT ALTA IMPERIALIS AQVILÆ FVLMINE EX THVLE

FEVDO INSVPER MEO VEXILLA GERMANICO CVM PRODEVNT SAXONES QVADIQVE GENTES

FEODALE DENVM MEA VENTIS VOX A SEPTENTRIONE ATQVE EX FEVDO MEO ALTA

HWÆR NIHTES SWĀ WITODLIC ANDSWARODE WRÆCEND-WILDĒOR!

ÞÆR SĊĒAWERE WÆS HĒAH-EALD BEALDE SWĀ MĪN DREOR,

HWÆR ON WANRE NIHT ÁSCÍNEÞ SWĀ ŌFER-MANNES GÚÐWÉRIG HLĒOR!

ÞÆR UNDER HERE-GRĪMAN SWĀ ANDSWARODE NORÐAN-HREÓH,

HWÆR DÆGSCIELDE ÆÐELCUND ŌFER-MANN OFERCYMÞ, SWĀ ĪSERN-FEORH!

ÞÆR HEAÐUFÝRUM GIET BÆLÞRACUM ÆRNDE SWĀ MĪN RĒOD-EOH,

HWÆR BORDHREÓÐAN SWĀ NU MĪN LĪĠETU-WRECEND, SWIÞE SWĀ IC DRĒOH!

ÞÆR CWEALMCUMUM FÝRDRACUM ÆTĪEWDE SWĀ WUNDOR-BLĒOH,

HWÆR SWĀ SE ŌFER-MANNES RĒOD LĪEĠDRACA GIET ĀSÆĠDE ON HŌH!

EIΔΩΛΩ OVERMAN.
Set in A.D. 1187, and propounded in monumental characters, as engraved in the rock, this epic of mine in Classical Latin, Ancient Greek, Anglo-Saxon and Old Norse tells of a superhuman clash between two knights who are in fact the same person. The alliteration focuses on the roots "FEODAL-" and "FEVD-" indicating "feudal" and "feud", as repeated with different declensions. From one single mirror battle action, chief philosophical notions of mine thus surface, all centered on my notion of Overman, alongside various historical and metaphysical symbols, as the Grail itself (“G. R. A. I. L.”, as an anagram, with an added meaning). The title EIΔΩΛΩ OVERMAN reads "The Overman through the Image" ("EIΔΩΛΩ" instrumental dative of the neuter "TO EIΔΩΛON", "image", also "phantom", "spectre" and "wraith", depending on textual circumstances). My own Return of Power event is mentioned ("MVTATIO SIVE REVOLVTIO SIVE POTENTIÆ INCREMENTVM AD INFINITVM IGNEVM"). An influence can be noticed from the song of Bertran De Born († 1140-1215 ca.) "Bem Platz lo Gais Temps de Pascor".

TO EMON EIΔΩΛON KAI ΔE TO EMON ΕIΔΟΣ
ENTAYΘA ΣYN TΩ ΔE EΓXEIPIΔIΩ
KATOΠTPΩ KAI ΔE ΚΕΡΑΥΝΩ TΩN ΘΕΩN
AΔEΩΣ O ΔE OVERMAN AΝΑΞ

reads:

My own Image and my Demeanour,
Here, with the Dagger,
Through the Mirror, and the Thunderbolt of the Gods,
Boldly the Overman, the Ruler (“AΝΑΞ”, also “King”, Latin “DVX”).

while

NEMO VIR EST VIR NOMINE HOC ALTO
DONEC SPATHA SCVTOQVE CEPERIT AC PERCVSSERIT MVLTA

SIC RVBRO OVERMAN DIXIT MIHI SIVE TO EMON EIΔΩΛON FVLMINE

FEODALE CHALIBE HIC IN SPECVLO ET IGNEO HOC CVM SIGILLO

No Man ("VIR", also “Hero”) is a Man with a High Name called (worthy of this Name)
Until with the Sword and the Shield has received and given many Blows,
This, through the Red Thunderbolt, the Overman, as my own Wraith (Image), has told me
Here, into the Feudal Mirror of Steel, and with this Seal of Fire.
Liam C Calhoun Jul 2015
Mei Mei wears the same,
“Signature,” every week,
Silk atop a smell soiled – Mao,
Burnt wood boiling frogs,
And a mother crying alongside
Ditch;
Ancient and ever’ed, leather
Peddling vegetables,
Not so many sold,
And atop something slight,
Thinner than rice whittled wrists,
Her red-printed tender
Intended daughter, “away,”
Under pink bow tie
And dreams wrought a village’s
Wheat and desires ancient –
All they’d offer progeny.

Mei Mei’d been born
And Mei Mei’d be gone;
All a grin, all a stage,
Come left, those who’d know last,
Stone tiers tethered past,
And right,
Others that’d someday follow;
She’d only be the first to leave.
And sure, she’d been frightened,
And sure, she’d been homesick,
With phone, “home,” ‘ever palmed,
And dreams ‘ever determined.
She’d shiver leg, wax poetry
Big cities, and boys so that
Dreamt be dealt,
Demise, be ******, and
“Mei Mei’d,” take on the world!

*Note - Inspired by a wonderful student of mine who graduated but days ago; grab the world by the horns, girl! You've inspired me, that's for sure!
LLZ Oct 2020
Toh Kya hua ,
Pehenti hu Mei jeans top ya short skirt koi,
Par sabhayta dupatte Vali h ,
Ha Mei ladki seher ki rehne Vali hu.

Mana ki pasand h mujhe,
Pizza aur burger khana ,
Par maa ke hath se bani chule ki roti bhi pyaar se khane Vali hu,
Ha Mei ladki seher ki rehne Vali hu.

Ha hu Mei todi ghamandi aur batameez,
Lekin choto se pyaar ,
Bado ka samman karne Vali hu ,
Ha Mei ladki seher ki rehne Vali hu

Nahi sajana maang Mei laal rang koi,
Nahi bandhna Gale Mei kala sutra koi
Ab apne swabhimaan aur aajadi ki or kadam badane Vali hu,
Ha Mei ladki seher ki rehne Vali hu.

Hath badane valo se,
Hath milane Vali hu,
Buri nazar se dekhne valo ko,
Unhi ke nazaro Mei girane Vali hu,
Ha Mei ladki seher ki rehne Vali hu.

Batameezi Kar Jaye gar koi mujhse,
Toh madat ki guhar nahi ,
Muh tod javab Dene Vali hu,
Ha Mei ladki seher ki rehne Vali hu!
City girl😊
Andrew T Hannah Apr 2014
Praeludium in via ...

Vidi heri mane quando ridebam coloribus egregiis,
Eradere auro , trans tabula caeli , tentorium ...
Excelsus super omnes montes mundi mole fratres
Nimborum desertum , ubi non sit humana exsuscitatur .
Et non vidi nobili altitudo futura ...
Bonitas terribilis Vidi , *** indomitus.
Et peregrinare in ea carne existimarem Semel tamen divina ,
Nunc datum est scire , et non confundamur ab eo opus .
Ambulavitque *** Deo, quod nunc facio , et passus est ... accentus
Proditio amor et passionibus , quamvis non recipiat ecclesia ,
Divinitatis naturam , ne occulta omnia confitentur ?
Audis tu solus in universo ab duces ineptum
Ipsos victu pascuntur finguntur mendacii .
Sed ambulavit in vobis, ex ea ipsa mundi redivivi ,
Proelia ante hos annos multos, in carne nostra, amissis vate sacro .
Nos sequi vestigia veterum monumentis, ut ostensum est ;
Quia ex nihilo nati sumus , et adhuc in filiis tuis, ac spatium vivendi ,
Latebunt , quo melius in manifesto , vultus ingenio tegmina.
Ego sum primus , et consilium ... Memini tamen alta urantur
Humanis uti licet , *** aliena michi negotium.
Lorem quid ad ignorantiam et extra ,
Quia vidisti me in tenebris, in ardentem rogum meum .
Si sustinuero , praeire , ubi angeli labuntur ...
Quis autem, si non satis est dedicata piget.
Irrisorie , quoniam ego scio quod salventur , et saepe etiam ,
Post tantum est **** , et sic esset forma in re firmatam ?
Imago Dei , huc ad nos omnes in sanguine ipsius ,
A primis ad ultima, ut alpha et omega, gladius acutus .

Prologus : ( Os meum labitur )

Puer fui servus ad aras tam sacras ,
Hymnis immaculatorum : et absque iniquitate .
Quod *** ipse portabat diadema thons nudus ...
Expositum Spiritus meus, qui intellexi gravitatem.
Quis credit sanctum profanae habitu virtutum
Et illi qui in eo sunt ut carnifices ovis ad occisionem ,
Innocentes cogit induere larvis ad porcellana et operuerunt capita sua ,
Et filii eorum diriperent pueritia , vinctus catenis rudis .
Sicut teenager : ambulans in naturis hominum omnium adprobante ,
Et egressus est a me omnes, qui violatores extiterunt in coinquinatione verebatur .
Angelo fidem reperto cecidi inveni sanctitati
Nomen meum in ea , et curet abluitur dubium inveni .
Venit ad nuptias, et omnes dedi uxorem proditione ,
In solutione huius coniunctionis nostrae et sine intervallo in solitudinem imposuit ?
Traiectus mortalis caro mea reliquit me solum in sanguinem ,
Cor ejus scissum est , absque omni cultu ex ordine funem .
Angelus autem meus et leniat iras mansit dolori
Mea lux, in vigiliis, in nigrum, quod est victa ,
Admonens quia carnis mortalitate ... maxime
Angelus vult me et tremor et durum accepimus.
Et ego factus sum quam ... traumas vitae ac lacrimis
Et dimisit , in specie quae sunt post , veluti a me plagas .
Nox deinde calor intensior saunas percipimus ...
Sicut est mihi in choro , relictum est , nisi ab illo esse extensum ,
Et invicem tradent , et mortalem , ut impunita essent, sed numquam mihi ...
Non tradent ; effundam spiritum meum , et non totum .
FYLACTERIUM creare ex omni me , et oculus innocens ...
Quod amari posco sum ​​ut carbo margarita alba et nigra ;

Section I : Sacrificium Doll

Part I : ( litus sanguinem )

Ne revoces me pupa enim priscis recesserunt cavernam
Sunt inanima appetant , non realis forma in utero ;
A puero bibere rubeam ore exploratores in vastissimam taberna ...
Dum nati psallens FARRATUS agros effusi .
Vadimus ad domum Dei , in plagis , in magna pecunia debetis ...
Hoc non est ad oras Nunc cruore manant strigitu rubra de memoria , polluetur .
Nulla est enim me primus ad ignitionem gloriae ...
Quando autem mens aeterna , in omnibus placentes, causabatur laetitiam .
In stellis ibi verba quae ego volo inauditum revocare,
Quia descendi ita pridem apud venire primum ?
Sollicitus purus fabrica MYSTICUS chaos genitus antiquorum
Mitti expectant limine signa magica.
Interdictum revertatur in carminibus meis , Licinius, ut audacia ,
Quia oblitus est mei fere est: nunc originem , ut tragici.
*** filii bibere, et se abscondunt nati seorsum
*** aquæ in sanguinem, et super triticum, et arefecit fœnum, et humida !
Signum quod venturum est mutare et laboro mentem.
Facies in luna ALLUCINOR in metu torquetur , horror ...
Dumque in fauces manu stare super pectus
Inter ordines diu frumentum umbra nigro ambula
Genus servo meo animas infantium .
Aestas flavescunt, Phoebe caelesti audent .
Mea sola mcestas lupus sonitum audiri potest ,
Et *** feris leo in pontumque moueri relinquere ...
A natura mihi dolet cupio concupivit paradisus reducat .
Vidi terram terror , ut sanguis in sinu
Ater sanguis in terra , quae facit viventia ululare ...
Sicut **** habet stultitia non dicam prava vel !

Part II : ( Crucifixo et Inferorum Animas Excitat)

Nam inertis est gemere pupa altari parato, in sacrificium,
In lapidem calcarium, et in cavernam, ubi sunt wettest fingit arcus !
Un - res sunt, sed etiam *** vivit in vulneribus animae , ut in glaciem ,
In horrore frigoris fictilem , ita *** pedibus non vocavit.
Serpentipedi mucrone subrecto , remittit praecise a pupa in collo ,
Et non potest dici , quia non habet pupa voce clamare.
Puer, et egressus est a tabernam , aspectus eorum quasi a naufragii vile ...
Ut curem hominem a superioribus agentibus , corpus totum mundum.
Infra in concavis locorum asperitate visa petram
Magna voces resonare in tenebras , et vocavit nomen tacuit.
Eripuit animam trahit nauta Multo gregis
Ubi aereum reddet unicuique antiquum signum desideratum .
Et venit ad bibendum aquas illas vitae malis mederi ...
Porcellana , et liberatus a vinculis mortis obscuris sentiat frigore ;
Animas in captivitate , unde nemo mortalium loqui
Sed statim liberavit remotis perforabit clavi ...
Omnis **** , qui dicitur Golgotha ​​, olim in cruce positus .
Omnis autem mulier quoque, ad quod omnes tales sunt tormento
Et facta est , dum consummaretur sacrificium insita primum sic infirma est,
Et intantum ut nisl tot annis perpessi .
Signati post fata diu Quod murus ignis in Terra ,
Stigmatibus ferre posset ita etiam multa futura!
Quod signum erat in manu mea, ut labatur pes meus, et dimittam ...
Tamen adhuc vetera perseverare illusionibus , et non possum excitare multos .
Ego, qui iam tantum conligati Lorem ferrum quid reale,
Factaque est infinita in dolo : Ego sum ​​, et desiderio erat pax.
Nam et ego quod negas , nisi aspera ac rudia mei liberatione ;
Angelus liberavit me , et nunc inter saevus sigillum frangere conantur .

Part III : ( The Return of lux)

Qui a mortuis Surrexit , frigidior , ubi de somno , ultrices in somnis , per
Et obliti sunt intelligentiae invocatum est super sancta miserunt innoxia verba ...
Et inde apud hominem , ut maneat MYSTICUS sequuntur revertamur ,
Ea aetate in inferno commemoratione praeteritorum.
Qui suscitavit eis manum meam , et pugionem eius lumen gloriae,
Relicta meae effercio fluere sanguis subito currere libero.
Ex profundo flamma surgit millennial amisso puella puer ,
Quæ est angeli redivivam sinit luce clarius ostendit .
Et omnis qui non occaecat oculos ad intima ;
Infideles , in momento temporis ponere in obprobrium .
*** stellae ab Diua sacrorum opera voluntatis
Dum coccineum limen transeat , lucem adfert .
Momento enim omnes in caelo et in terris sunt ,
Sicut dies longus tandem inclinatus ante noctem veniat .
In tenebris , claritas multo maiorem et perfectiorem descendit ,
Eorum, qui dum in nomine meo orbata est devium.
Sicut incensum in conspectu angelorum ira animos eorum , occlusum ...
Ferrum IRRETUS texturae talis effugere nequeunt carcerem
Nam quicquid occaecat vidit lucem et scindit
Nisi quia in templis revellens mortalibus irae.
Et , postquam ipsæ fuerint fornicatæ infidelium , ut uoles, petulans ,
Et factum est in excogitando dogma , quod de ratione immemor ?
Horrendum non fides sit , tamen ita fecisse ,
Ante finem exspectent praemia petunt .
*** enim , ut est in paradisum suscipit dereliquerunt ...
Imago autem libertatis quam servitutis et negotio.
Nimia tempus extractam converterat a gladio:
****, ut spectet ad salutem in lucem , caeca lumina sua .

Antiphon alpha :
Quia hoc est ut , barbaris quoque innocentiae gentilitium mendacium vendere ...
Numquid et vos vultis emere , aut aliquam nunc forsitan putas,
Ad sciendum neque rationi consentaneum neque aetate sapientes ...
Quod si non moverent malles *** saltare!
Pleni sunt somnia noctes ; Dies mei tantum ...
Ego ad bis et quem maxime diligebam , in purpura quoque , et aprico occasus .
Ego autem haec imago non ad tangere memoriam tot ,
Qui replet in sanguinem furoris me , et frigidam desiderio finis .
Et considerandum est quod *** in ultima desperatione rerum , in cuius manu mea, equo et pilos in ore gladii ,
Nam ni ita esset, nunquam tamen inde trans familia .
Sed abusus est , ut fuit, et quidem instar caedentes sepem
An ut reliquos omnes transcendunt omnia , amice!
Ego superfui , transfiguravi ascendi in fine est ,
Multo magis quam erat, non plus quam diruere animus .
Sed tamen , quia speravi in solitudinem , ut a somno exsuscitem ancillam meam in flamma ...
Ardet , o superi, ut arbitror , usque uror dissiliunt!
De caelo et magis obscurant vestris, et tridentes, et contritio ,
Audio furorem tympana caelo antiqui gigantes hiemes.
Dii irascantur et ecce valide erutas ,
Uvasque calcantes Angeli hominis Illi autem vinariis ageretur ...
Recordatus sum in omnibus navigantibus battleship galaxies ,
In die ortus nubes inter exaestuans, quod ' vaporem ...
Depopulari Sodomam et Gomorrham, ad contumelias !
Ibi eram: et *** impiis non perire denique gemitu.
Ut illuderet mihi : et populus , quia ego bonus sum male velle ,
A Deo est, quam diu tot mala ferre cogetur .
Ego autem non sum solus , quia multa in eo et detorqueri
Deus remittit, nam adhuc sed non est intellectus ;

Section II : Hostiam de Spider

Part I : ( Rident Primus )

Caelum non egerunt pœnitentiam super ulcus nigrum est furore , et in indignatione, et in iustitia :
Et factus sum caro , quamvis intellectus non mortale .
In antro loca , quæ transivi , et dæmonia multa discurrunt ,
Et locis minus adhuc amor in search of a provocare .
In quo autem in craticiis tectoria atria mea, et thronus fuit stabilis ...
Et super collem , ubi dolorum laborum animae perit labor in mundanis ,
Transcendi vincula et consilio fidelium expectabo laudatur.
Ignis et sulphur et, semper est dextera arderent super altare ?
Ridentem cogo faciem meam : non enim veni , ut velle,
Ut in hora *** iam iuvenem, *** proposito aureum ...
Quæ pro impenso super solidum, pretium quis ,
Qui autem non cognovit , quomodo cupiam sibi solvere ...
Furor solitudinis nascitur ira nascitur ex malitia,
Qui autem contemnunt me , quia sine causa Provocantes me .
Quid est **** , impunitatem , ne quis putaret se excusat ;
Quam sapere , *** culturis tuum: mergi , in balneis , in ardentem .
Loquor de inferno, qui est infidelis nescis ?
Neque enim suis oculis effossis clavorum ...
Loquor cruciatus qui daemonia fecerunt superat .
Primus erit mihi dolor meus *** omnis fera voluntas ut ratio ...
Ut qui me conspui caro quod ambulans ,
Nescis modo larva facies mea , abscondens se.
Attendit ad illa nihil nisi insipientis solis erratur in sonis cantus
Tantum numerus ratus e fratre soror .
Sed in caelestibus quae sine causa nata est incestus est alchemical ?
Habitat in me peccatum occultum compages sǽculo.
Sit mihi vim inter gentes auditus est ABSURDUS musica ...
Spiritus meus qui regit omne simile est genitus.

Part II ( vindicta aurum )

In hortos, in quibus cupiditas sanguis rosaria semina ,
I , in manu eorum , qui esurit Quorum sitit aquam surgit !
In quaerere dilectionis affectum bestiis pavi eget
Quid faciam ut pudeat , habet me non elit .
O **** , quo impune ausu palamque vociferari ,
Quod amor sit ex me credis , et me opus manuum tuarum ,
Ut timidus , et cucurrit ad me latere turba depravari ,
In simulata excellentiam tuam , et ipse te vile animal .
Coniunctio oris linguae quasi telam laqueari
Si fieri potest araneae ; et fugiet a turpis ut octo pedes nidum ...
Et *** jam non calidus humanitatis indignum ,
Cogitans te meliorem quam reliqui descendes !
Ut vitae pretium millies , tibimetipsi .
Creaturam factus sum nocte expectant te aranea heu !
Nolite putare quia ego audirem . utrumque stridens cruris ...
Odium ductor tuus , et equi ejus , et ascensorem ejus .
Et in vestra web Video vos, Quirites immune ungues acuti ,
Ad toxicus venenum , quod oculis non potes, nisi te , octo ...
Ex quo bases Caesios sine timore, et sic primum
Ut dolores tuos comedat vos accendentes ignem caelum ;
Detur paenitentiae venia , quae dicis omnia cogit , ne superare dolores ,
Qui tibi semper, quæ videtur , non est potentia ad non noceat .
Et ascendit ulterius sapere plus pavoris tui ...
Numquam puerile ludibrium ulla facta .
Omnis domus tua dissolutae horologiorum ad socium non est ?
In desertis chaos est gaudium, ut si quod habuerunt.
Surgit in novum ordinem , nemo potest negare chaos genitus locus ,
Dum descendes perdunt, muneribus laesae.

PARS III ( Ultimo Rident)

Et sic videtur quod Angelus se et ante deam
Angelus autem nominis vocare aliquis tenuerit formarum.
Et qui in illis est , maiora sunt, ego saepe ad extraneas ,
Fingunt enim se perfectum , ignorant eorum saevitum ,
Num amor crustacea tam veteri quam in praedam , et mendicum ,
Quod minus quam tuum est , quam sumpsi eaque cibum ...
Est autem tarn coquina sicut clibanus tua vadit et ora
Ipse, ipse est extra te praemium virtutis tuae chores ,
Sicut enim res suo cuidam negotium , qui meretricem ... Lorem ipsum leve,
Putas praemium amaret , et mendicum , falli te .
Quid autem vocatis me alienum **** ... amor est malum , et hoc pudet,
Et similiter anima atque animus , quibus tandem corpus infirmare.
Vides tantum larva ... sub aspectu nisurum
Larva ut me in tenebris tenebris latet .
Circa collum tuum habebis , ut falsae aestimationis pendet a mortuis, et corona ,
Quia sterilis tibi relinquo mundum , Intenta ancillæ.
Consurgitur in excitate de reliquis abire tibi , qui sunt cognati mei
De manibus eorum procul offendant pedes vestri ?
Qui manet in coemeterio quasi mortui
Non tollere incorruptione Nimis tibi dubium .
Hue tacito lachrymis virgines flere ...
Ad mea, et robur , in quo praeda, gregibus rursum super vias hominum ,
Ad eos qui non ineptis metus mutetur ,
Aureus transmutare non magis quam plumbea nocte dies ;
Quod verum est de fine , qui scit ... Alchemist
Magistra rerum artes a me in profundum.
Ágite , quod sum aggressus creatura placet mutare ...
Ut res sunt nostrae demiurgorum lasciva oscula enim calidius ?

Omega Antiphon :
Non est autem in Utopia , non videtur quod ...
Donec ut nosmet ipsos cognoscimus prima quaerimus imaginem .
*** et in sacrificio sui ipsius , a volunt reddi obsequium ...
Qui ad reformandam et divina se , *** Leo renata agnus mitis !
Sicut in Christo, ex parte in qua invocatum est cicatrix, et vulneratus est ...
Sed simplex conversio ad dissimilis vultus nolui .
Memini dolore meo, ut acer et vehemens ...
Donee tantum possum emissus dolor servare sensu caret.
Quomodo potest aedificare paradisum non est, nisi in se mutant ;
Mutare ante mutatum esse non est in medio ; quae est in via .
Qua ad paradisum , et oportet eam, et non deficiunt,
Ne ad caelum, nisi quam nos aedificare illud infernum iniustitiis nos .
Utopia , non ruunt ad genus humanum, nisi a te, tu es qui habitavit ?
Nisi quod est extra omne malum quod in se corrumpunt ,
Manifestum enim est , nisi malum, quod mundatam ab omnibus malis moribus.
Tunc malitia faciatis abstulit senex super pluteo tom .
An non intellegat , quid est salvator ...
*** diceret quod non omne quod simplices filii ingredi
Regnum caelorum , et inde ad delectationem pertinere ...
Et quomodo potes perfrui , si tibi placet , cauillando crudelis ?
*** aurora tempore domini nituntur hominum planeta ...
Numquam imaginandi praecipiet ut discat primum voluntatis.
Non armorum vi , nec inutile mandatum ...
Sed *** modestia , et misericordia ; ergo qui ad cor suum in satietatem,
Gáudii innumerabiles et celebrationibus quae causa ?
Sed animus intendatur dolores peccatum lacus.
Ubi plausus rotundum vt quilibet sensus ?
Modernitatem iocabitur ullum definitum ornare.

Section III : sacrificium sui

Part I : ( hortos perditio )

A ziggurat sublatus est , arenosa in calidum lateres , quos coquetis in igne ...
Septem fabulae in caelum, sicut turris Babel ,
Quod in solitudinem, et in
This is how this poem is meant to be read. In it's original form.
Latin is nothing but the purest form of expression when it comes to language.
Seema Aug 2017
Kya kabhi patharo ne siskiyan li hai?
Kato ne chubna chor diya?
Dil ne dhadakna;
Aur ankho ne barasna chor diya?

Kya kabhi kadi dhoop mei,
Indradhanus ko haste huwe dekha hai?
Iss duniya mei,
Insaano ko ladtey aur marte dekha hai?

Kya tumne kabhi socha hai,
Jiwan mei dukh ziyada aur khushi kam kiyu hai?
Rastey sabh seedhe nahi,
Tedhe rastein bhi manzil ke kareeb le jati hai.

Kya tumne kabhi rotey huwe buzurgh ko,
Aur besahara bacho ko dekha hai?
Apni unchi naak, neechi kar,
Dharti mata ko dhanayvad diya hai?

Nahi na! Ya sambhawna kuch toh kiya hoga.
Ya tumhare dil mein daya hi nahi.
Kya muskurana bhi bhool chuke **?
Apne nahi toh dusroh ke liye kuch kiya karo.

Zindagi ke akhari pal mei, yaad karo ge.
Ek ek din ankho ke samne daud ke jayengi,
Tabh tum yaad karte, muskhurate iss duniya se,
Hamesha ke liye alvida kahe jaoge...



©sim
TRANSLATED

*Do Something Good*
Do the rocks ever sob?
Or the thorns stopped to *****,
The heart left it's beat ;
And these eyes forgot to rain.

Has there ever, in a bright sun,
The rainbow came out smiling?
In this world,
Have you seen people fighting and dying?

Have you ever thought,
In life, why there is more sadness then happiness?
Not all roads are straight,
Crooked roads also lead you to your destination.

Have you ever seen an old man cry,
Or seen unassissted special kids?
Have you ever bowed your head,
To thank this mother earth?

No, isn't it! Or say may have done some.
Or is your heart dead on remorse.
Have you also forgotten to smile?
If not for you, atleast do for others.

In the last hours of life, you will remember.
Each day would run off infront of your eyes,
Then remembering and smiling, from this life,
Forever you'll wave goodbyes...

#unrhymed
©sim
Aakhir kyu

Beti puchhe babulse , " mei kyu parayi?"
Uski ye haalat dekh ke kayanath bhi sharmayi.
Na mei  pihar ki, na sasural ki.
Babul bata mohe, mei aakhir kahaki?

Vidai ke waqt; tune  kar di mohe parayi;
Kisine ne jaani mere dukh ki gehrayi.
Aaj tere jaane ke baad to, ne ghar ki , ne ghat ki.
Bas khed hei mujhe is baat ki .

Sasuralwale kahe," tera pihar;"
Yeh soonte hi  jau mei sihar.
Sochu manhi man mei; kaunsa pihar !
Jaha aaj apna koi nahi  hei; woh pihar  !

Niyati ka khel hei yah kaisa?
Pihar **, ya sasural; dekhe harkoi paisa.

Kis se kahu mei dil ki peed ?
Akeli hu; bhale ** chahu aur  bheed.
Paav mere tune baandh di janjeer.
Aakhir kyu, aisi meri  taqdeer ?

Armin Dutia Motashaw
Nigel Morgan Jan 2013
In the morning the wind is vicious, tossing vigorously the woodland on the heights above the village. The sky is a hanging of grey and charcoal black bands of cloud. On horseback and in her male attire Zuo Fen is led by the village guide up the steep forest path. She is already questioning the past, the accounts she’s read of the annual transhumance to this remote spot that give no answer to its sudden abandonment. It seems the Emperor made himself incommunicado for the latter part of the third season. The palace inventory shows local provisioning, and the most carefully chosen companions. They also describe how season-by-season the habitation was enlarged in order to accommodate further and different visitors. Poets and musicians were particularly favoured and would accompany the Emperor to select locations to add a delicate resonance of word and sound to the natural world.
​         As the travellers came out of the forest a wilderness of rock and moorland stretched before them, relentlessly upward. The path was now vague and Meng Ning was perplexed at how his guide had brought him across this terrain in the near darkness of the previous afternoon. The ponies often stumbled here and in the high wind he had to stop himself from looking behind to check his Lady’s progress. Eventually the ascent became less precipitous and a clearer path asserted itself, and in the near distance a pile of stones marked the summit. There, Meng Ning alighted to see Zuo Fen walking purposefully beside her horse leading her maid for whom this was an unaccustomed adventure. Together they approached him as he surveyed the panorama that to the west revealed Lake Psumano, a silver thread of water curled between the thick forests.
​        In silence Zuo Fen handed the reins of her pony to Meng Ning and with a signal to the village guide strode off on the descent to Eryi-lou.
 
‘We are to wait here until my Lady is out of sight,’ said Mei Lim’s smiling voice. ‘Then we may go forward.’
 
Mei Lim sat firmly in the saddle, as though assuming command of this small party. This now comprised herself, Meng,Ning and two rough-spoken men from the village each leading a pack-horse of luggage and provisions.  
 
‘You know I travelled as far as Stone Village on my Lady’s visit to the Tai Mountains. I would have gone further but she required me to stay. She is a woman who is in love with the wilderness, who will walk out in any weather to greet it lovingly. You should have no fear for her. She is a strong woman.’
​          Meng Ning nodded, declining to speak, afraid to disturb the rough music of the winds that seemed to press on them from all directions. Such is the journeying spirit, he thought, and looking into the distance realized Zuo Fen and her guide had disappeared from view.
          ​Soon the autumn forest had been regained and Zuo Fen and her guide began the descent to Eryi-lou. The path here was well made and marked at regularly distances with small stone columns. The whirlwind, that had buffeted the travellers since their departure, was now being played out in the highest treetops leaving ground level to echo like a large hall as the trees above swayed, groaned and cracked sharply in the heights. Soon vistas of the lake began to appear. They were still high above, the path frequently winding in steep loops across the hillside. Suddenly they found themselves looking down almost precipitously onto rooftops, a maze of buildings falling in tiers, joined together with walkways and terraces, many invaded now by trees and undergrowth: the Emperor’s summer palace of Eryi-lou.
​          Here, Zuo Fen bade her guide turn back. She would now imagine reclaiming this place of her waking dream, alone. When she felt confident her guide had retreated up the path she removed the pins from her hair, loosened her cloak, took off her stout boots of Yak leather. There would be more later.
 
​Barefoot, she began her descent to the palace eventually finding a staircase to one of the terraces from which she began to survey the palace. She found many of the rooms as she had dreamed them, small guest apartments with open spaces where doors and windows might have been, and hangings of the richest almost translucent silks, torn, faded, some covering the ground. The detritus of twenty autumns had blown through these spaces: plant material had taken root in between the planks of the raised wooden floors. Miraculously, there were rooms almost untouched by nature, just piles of leaves providing a matted covering.
         ​In one room somewhat larger than its surrounding structures Zuo Fen feels a special and continuing presence. A veranda-like structure occupied its lake-facing wall. This room, almost a hall, had been recently swept. There is a faint memory of incense as she comes close to the wooden walls. She paces the area until she feels guided to a spot where perhaps a formal chair has long ago been positioned. From there she can see the leaves but not the trunks of the trees as they swirl about in the continuing wind. A long vista of the silver lake spreads itself across the hall’s panorama. But the space enjoys shelter from the prevailing wind and has a stillness and silence all its own. Here, after removing her cloak, her thick riding trousers, the woolen garments that bound warmth to her, she kneels in her shift, closing her eyes to feel the room, the palace, its surroundings, come close to her all but naked body in its repose.
       ​Losing all sense of time it is only the gentle covering of her shoulders by Mei Lim that wakes her from her reverie.
 
‘Gracious Lady, we are installed in rooms kept for the use of official visitors. The guardian here is a young woman with a small child. She would like to welcome you when you are dressed and have eaten.’
 
And so, being led by her maid, Zuo Fen is taken to a distant suite of rooms suited to the autumn weather. There are recently lit braziers, and fitted doors and windows provide a little protection against the relentless wind and the damp cold. Mei Lim reassembles her lady’s wardrobe, and having dressed her, places a hot infusion into her cold hands. The afternoon light has barely a few hours left, but already the cold deepens. This will be a hard place to spend the night, a palace built for the third season – the summer of the solstice, a time of laughter and of fire, and the phoenix red.
 
Meng Ning is also imagining the palace in its summer dress when to wake at dawn would be witness to the sun flooding the partially cleared forest from its heights. The palace is lit up by vibrant reflections off the lake and the very roofs of the many buildings pulsate and shimmer with the heat of a cloudless day. The women of the palace are deep in slumber, their maids with silent tread reclaiming their ladies’ dignity after a night which may have seen much experimental congress of men and women amidst the subtle music of the qujin, the drinking of local wine, the close inspection and divination of the heavens reflected in the still lake, and the elaborate trading between memories of poetry and folk tale.  Even without such imaginings, to be here, and in the company of the illustrious Zuo Fen is the richest gift in a life otherwise stunted by ceremony and courtly intrigue. Zuo Fen has clearly taken Emperor Wu beyond custom and, though briefly, fashioned moments of love and friendship. To witness this woman at close quarters, this artist of the brush whose selection of characters holds both charm and innocence is wondrous. Even in these cold quarters he is warmed by the thought of her presence and the journey they will make tomorrow along the lake shore – to the Red Slate Path.

( to be continued )
Aakhir kyu

Beti puchhe babulse , " mei kyu parayi?"
Uski ye haalat dekh ke kayanath bhi sharmayi.
Na mei  pihar ki, na sasural ki.
Babul bata mohe, mei aakhir kahaki?

Vidai ke waqt; tune  kar di mohe parayi;
Kisine ne jaani mere dukh ki gehrayi.
Aaj tere jaane ke baad to, ne ghar ki , ne ghat ki.
Bas khed hei mujhe is baat ki .

Sasuralwale kahe," tera pihar;"
Yeh soonte hi  jau mei sihar.
Sochu manhi man mei; kaunsa pihar !
Jaha aaj apna koi nahi  hei; woh pihar  !

Niyati ka khel hei yah kaisa?
Pihar **, ya sasural; dekhe harkoi paisa.

Kis se kahu mei dil ki peed ?
Akeli hu; bhale ** chahu aur  bheed.
Paav mere tune baandh di janjeer.
Aakhir kyu, aisi meri  taqdeer ?

Armin Dutia Motashaw
Nigel Morgan Nov 2012
As a woman, and in the service of my Lord the Emperor Wu, my life is governed by his command. At twenty I was summoned to this life at court and have made of it what I can, within the limitations of the courtesan I am supposed to be, and the poet I have now become. Unlike my male counterparts, some of whom have lately found seclusion in the wilderness of rivers and mountains, I have only my personal court of three rooms and its tiny garden and ornamental pond. But I live close to the surrounding walls of the Zu-lin Gardens with its astronomical observatories and bold attempts at recreating illusions of celebrated locations in the Tai mountains. There, walking with my cat Xi-Lu in the afternoons, I imagine a solitary life, a life suffused with the emptiness I crave.
 
In the hot, dry summer days my maid Mei-Lim and I have sought a temporary retreat in the pine forests above Lingzhi. Carried in a litter up the mountain paths we are left in a commodious hut, its open walls making those simple pleasures of drinking, eating and sleeping more acute, intense. For a few precious days I rest and meditate, breathe the mountain air and the resinous scents of the trees. I escape the daily commerce of the court and belong to a world that for the rest of the year I have to imagine, the world of the recluse. To gain the status of the recluse, open to my male counterparts, is forbidden to women of the court. I am woman first, a poet and calligrapher second. My brother, should he so wish, could present a petition to revoke his position as a man of letters, an official commentator on the affairs of state. But he is not so inclined. He has already achieved notoriety and influence through his writing on the social conditions of town and city. He revels in a world of chatter, gossip and intrigue; he appears to fear the wilderness life.  
 
I must be thankful that my own life is maintained on the periphery. I am physically distant from the hub of daily ceremonial. I only participate at my Lord’s express command. I regularly feign illness and fatigue to avoid petty conflict and difficulty. Yet I receive commissions I cannot waver: to honour a departed official; to celebrate a son’s birth to the Second Wife; to fulfil in verse my Lord’s curious need to know about the intimate sorrows of his young concubines, their loneliness and heartache.
 
Occasionally a Rhapsody is requested for an important visitor. The Emperor Wu is proud to present as welcome gifts such poetic creations executed in fine calligraphy, and from a woman of his court. Surely a sign of enlightment and progress he boasts! Yet in these creations my observations are parochial: early morning frost on the cabbage leaves in my garden; the sound of geese on their late afternoon flight to Star Lake; the disposition of the heavens on an Autumn night. I live by the Tao of Lao-Tzu, perceiving the whole world from my doorstep.
 
But I long for the reclusive life, to leave this court for my family’s estate in the valley my peasant mother lived as a child. At fourteen she was chosen to sustain the Emperor’s annual wish for young girls to be groomed for concubinage. Like her daughter she is tall, though not as plain as I; she put her past behind her and conceded her adolescence to the training required by the court. At twenty she was recommended to my father, the court archivist, as second wife. When she first met this quiet, dedicated man on the day before her marriage she closed her eyes in blessing. My father taught her the arts of the library and schooled her well. From her I have received keen eyes of jade green and a prestigious memory, a memory developed she said from my father’s joy of reading to her in their private hours, and before she could read herself. Each morning he would examine her to discover what she had remembered of the text read the night before. When I was a little child she would quote to me the Confucian texts on which she had been ****** schooled, and she then would tell me of her childhood home. She primed my imagination and my poetic world with descriptions of a domestic rural life.
 
Sometimes in the arms of my Lord I have freely rhapsodized in chusi metre these delicate word paintings of my mother’s home. She would say ‘We will walk now to the ruined tower beside the lake. Listen to the carolling birds. As the sparse clouds move across the sky the warm sun strokes the winter grass. Across the deep lake the forests are empty. Now we are climbing the narrow steps to the platform from which you and I will look towards the sun setting in the west. See the shadows are lengthening and the air becomes colder. The blackbird’s solitary song heralds the evening.  Look, an owl glides silently beneath us.’
 
My Lord will then quote from Hsieh Ling-yun,.
 
‘I meet sky, unable to soar among clouds,
face a lake, call those depths beyond me.’
 
And I will match this quotation, as he will expect.
 
‘Too simple-minded to perfect Integrity,
and too feeble to plough fields in seclusion.’
 
He will then gaze into my eyes in wonder that this obscure poem rests in my memory and that I will decode the minimal grammar of these early characters with such poetry. His characters: Sky – Bird – Cloud – Lake – Depth. My characters: Fool – Truth – Child – Winter field – Isolation.
 
Our combined invention seems to take him out of his Emperor-self. He is for a while the poet-scholar-sage he imagines he would like to be, and I his foot-sore companion following his wilderness journey. And then we turn our attention to our bodies, and I surprise him with my admonitions to gentleness, to patience, to arousing my pleasure. After such poetry he is all pleasure, sensitive to the slightest touch, and I have my pleasure in knowing I can control this powerful man with words and the stroke of my fingertips rather than by delicate youthful beauty or the guile and perverse ingenuity of an ****** act. He is still learning to recognise the nature and particularness of my desires. I am not as his other women: who confuse pleasure with pain.
 
Thoughts of my mother. Without my dear father, dead ten years, she is a boat without a rudder sailing on a distant lake. She greets each day as a gift she must honour with good humour despite the pain of her limbs, the difficulty of walking, of sitting, of eating, even talking. Such is the hurt that governs her ageing. She has always understood that my position has forbidden marriage and children, though the latter might be a possibility I have not wished it and made it known to my Lord that it must not be. My mother remains in limbo, neither son or daughter seeking to further her lineage, she has returned to her sister’s home in the distant village of her birth, a thatched house of twenty rooms,
 
‘Elms and willows shading the eaves at the back,
and, in front,  peach and plum spread wide.
 
Villages lost across mist-haze distances,
Kitchen smoke drifting wide-open country,
 
Dogs bark deep among the back roads out here
And cockerels crow from mulberry treetops.
 
My esteemed colleague T’ao Ch’ien made this poetry. After a distinguished career in government service he returned to the life of a recluse-farmer on his family farm. Living alone in a three-roomed hut he lives out his life as a recluse and has endured considerable poverty. One poem I know tells of him begging for food. His world is fields-and-gardens in contrast to Hsieh Ling-yin who is rivers-and-mountains. Ch’ien’s commitment to the recluse life has brought forth words that confront death and the reality of human experience without delusion.
 
‘At home here in what lasts, I wait out life.’
 
Thus my mother waits out her life, frail, crumbling more with each turning year.
 
To live beyond the need to organise daily commitments due to others, to step out into my garden and only consider the dew glistening on the loropetalum. My mind is forever full of what is to be done, what must be completed, what has to be said to this visitor who will today come to my court at the Wu hour. Only at my desk does this incessant chattering in the mind cease, as I move my brush to shape a character, or as the needle enters the cloth, all is stilled, the world retreats; there is the inner silence I crave.
 
I long to see with my own eyes those scenes my mother painted for me with her words. I only know them in my mind’s eye having travelled so little these past fifteen years. I look out from this still dark room onto my small garden to see the morning gathering its light above the rooftops. My camellia bush is in flower though a thin frost covers the garden stones.
 
And so I must imagine how it might be, how I might live the recluse life. How much can I jettison? These fine clothes, this silken nightgown beneath the furs I wrap myself in against the early morning air. My maid is sleeping. Who will make my tea? Minister to me when I take to my bed? What would become of my cat, my books, the choice-haired brushes? Like T’ao Ch’ien could I leave the court wearing a single robe and with one bag over my shoulders? Could I walk for ten days into the mountains? I would disguise myself as a man perhaps. I am tall for a woman, and though my body flows in broad curves there are ways this might be assuaged, enough perhaps to survive unmolested on the road.
 
Such dreams! My Lord would see me returned within hours and send a servant to remain at my gate thereafter. I will compose a rhapsody about a concubine of standing, who has even occupied the purple chamber, but now seeks to relinquish her privileged life, who coverts the uncertainty of nature, who would endure pain and privation in a hut on some distant mountain, who will sleep on a mat on its earth floor. Perhaps this will excite my Lord, light a fire in his imagination. As though in preparation for this task I remove my furs, I loose the knot of my silk gown. Naked, I reach for an old under shift letting it fall around my still-slender body and imagine myself tying the lacings myself in the open air, imagine making my toilet alone as the sun appears from behind a distant mountain on a new day. My mind occupies itself with the tiny detail of living thus: bare feet on cold earth, a walk to nearby stream, the gathering of berries and mountain herbs, the making of fire, the washing of my few clothes, imagining. Imagining. To live alone will see every moment filled with the tasks of keeping alive. I will become in tune with my surroundings. I will take only what I need and rely on no one. Dreaming will end and reality will be the slug on my mat, the bone-chilling incessant mists of winter, the thorn in the foot, the wild winds of autumn. My hands will become stained and rough, my long limbs tanned and scratched, my delicate complexion freckled and wind-pocked, my hair tied roughly back. I will become an animal foraging on a dank hillside. Such thoughts fill me with deep longing and a ****** desire to be tzu-jan  - with what surrounds me, ablaze with ****** self.
 
It is not thought the custom of a woman to hold such desires. We are creatures of order and comfort. We do not live on the edge of things, but crave security and well-being. We learn to endure the privations of being at the behest of others. Husbands, children, lovers, our relatives take our bodies to them as places of comfort, rest and desire. We work at maintaining an ordered flow of existence. Whatever our station, mistress or servant we compliment, we keep things in order, whether that is the common hearth or the accounts of our husband’s court. Now my rhapsody begins:
 
A Rhapsody on a woman wishing to live as a recluse
 
As a lady of my Emperor’s court I am bound in service.
My court is not my own, I have the barest of means.
My rooms are full of gifts I am forced barter for bread.
Though the artefacts of my hands and mind
Are valued and widely renown,
Their commissioning is an expectation of my station,
With no direct reward attached.
To dress appropriately for my Lord’s convocations and assemblies
I am forced to negotiate with chamberlains and treasurers.
A bolt of silk, gold thread, the services of a needlewoman
Require formal entreaties and may lie dormant for weeks
Before acknowledgement and release.
 
I was chosen for my literary skills, my prestigious memory,
Not for my ****** beauty, though I have been called
‘Lady of the most gracious movement’ and
My speaking voice has clarity and is capable of many colours.
I sing, but plainly and without passion
Lest I interfere with the truth of music’s message.
 
Since I was a child in my father’s library
I have sought out the works of those whose words
Paint visions of a world that as a woman
I may never see, the world of the wilderness,
Of rivers and mountains,
Of fields and gardens.
Yet I am denied by my *** and my station
To experience passing amongst these wonders
Except as contrived imitations in the palace gardens.
 
Each day I struggle to tease from the small corner
Of my enclosed eye-space some enrichment
Some elemental thing to colour meaning:
To extend the bounds of my home
Across the walls of this palace
Into the world beyond.
 
I have let it be known that I welcome interviews
With officials from distant courts to hear of their journeying,
To gather word images if only at second-hand.
Only yesterday an emissary recounted
His travels to Stone Lake in the far South-West,
Beyond the gorges of the Yang-tze.
With his eyes I have seen the mountains of Suchan:
With his ears I have heard the oars crackling
Like shattering jade in the freezing water.
Images and sounds from a thousand miles
Of travel are extract from this man’s memory.
 
Such a sharing of experience leaves me
Excited but dismayed: that I shall never
Visit this vast expanse of water and hear
Its wild cranes sing from their floating nests
In the summer moonlight.
 
I seek to disappear into a distant landscape
Where the self and its constructions of the world may
Dissolve away until nothing remains but the no-mind.
My thoughts are full of the practicalities of journeying
Of an imagined location, that lonely place
Where I may be at one with myself.
Where I may delight in the everyday Way,
Myself among mist and vine, rock and cave.
Not this lady of many parts and purposes whose poems must
Speak of lives, sorrow and joy, pleasure and pain
Set amongst personal conflict and intrigue
That in containing these things, bring order to disorder;
Salve the conscience, bathe hurt, soothe sleight.
Nigel Morgan Jan 2013
The sun rises tentatively through the forest heights behind the palace. In the pre-dawn light Jia Li has secured water and fuel for her visitors and despite the attentions of the pack horse men, who have returned from an evening at her village the worse for drink, she settles to feed her infant child. Meng Ning enters to seek her counsel. She already guesses his intentions and answers his brief questions with confidence. She knows the route to the Red Slate Path, perhaps four li distant. The path is clear, though little used. It is not a place those of her village visit, though she has learnt that the path itself defies nature’s attempts to cover its existence.
    Zuo Fen is standing on the terrace as Meng Ning returns to the Emperor’s Hall. She has slept deeply, is refreshed after a period of meditation and, despite the cold, has been washed and massaged by her maid. She appears dressed for walking, her boots, fur cloak and hat in purposeful combination. As she surveys the lake flocks of wild geese and duck chatter and squabble as they float on the surface. There are some experimental flights, pairs of duck taking off to fly in wide arcs only to return to the same stretch of water from where they rose in tandem. Soon the geese will leave to fly across the forests and moorland for distant harvested fields where they will spend the day foraging. Meng Ning points to a distant peninsula jutting out from the northern shore of the lake. Behind it, he says, lies the cove of the Red Slate Path. Perhaps there they will be able to understand more keenly the why of this mystery.

‘At such a distance,’ says Zuo Fen, ‘the detail of a boat would be quite lost. I imagine the peninsula acting like a pointing finger to its floating form. There is already fashioning within me a possible story that might explain this mystery.’

She smiles warmly at Meng Ning who bows his head rather than stare into her jade green eyes. She moves closer to his standing posture, taking his left hand secure but tense against the balustrade of the veranda. Lowering one leg before the other she slowly kneels, removing her hat, loosening her fur cloak that now spreads itself of its own accord beside and behind her. With both hands behind her neck she lifts her long hair found to parted and tied in simple peasant fashion. Raising her hands to full-stretch her sleeping hair warm from the bare skin of her back slowly cascades forward and across each of her ******* to curl like two cats in the bowl of her robe.

‘Mei Lim is with Jia Li’, Zuo Fen says curiously and with a voice Meng Ning has not encountered before. ‘I fell to sleep dreaming of your kind presence and the joy of being touched and kissed.’ He cannot see her face as she speaks, only the quivering fall of her hair across her kneeling body. ‘I awoke feeling your breath on my cheek and so brought your limbs to entwine with my own.’ He now senses the delicate unguents of her body; they compass him about, his hand falls from the balustrade to touch her hair.

Finding her right ear his fingers describe its shape, its sculptured relief of folded forms and crevices. He is becoming faint with something outside passion that requires him to go beyond her ear and flow of hair about his fingers. He unties his cloak, letting it drop behind him. He removes his boots and outer garments. She follows his example. He moves to her side, adopts the position of the swallow resting on the wind. They face one another.  To the accompaniment of their breathing, her hands begin a dance in the space between their lower limbs as though they are birds turning and falling in flight. Unlike the courtesans he sees at court her nails are short, her fingers long. Then, it is as though her hand holds a brush forming characters and she begins to write on his body with short deft movements this way that way describing her flight of passion. Some intuition tells him to allow this, and not to seek repricocity, as it seems from her breathing that these very actions give her the greatest delight, bring her to the edge of the first coitus. Eyes closed, he moves his nose into a glancing embrace with her own, feeling there a semblance of perspiration, that tell-tale sign of a woman’s readiness for the deeper embrace. She responds to this with sighs and swift movements of rapture that envelope him, and now, as she quickly brings her limbs into a right conjunction, he places one hand beneath her, the other to recline her body gently to the floor, her cloak becoming a pillow for her head.
    He now looks directly at her, her face expressionless as though all thought and feeling has entered her body in preparation to receive his own. She does not blink. There is a moment of great stillness, a great wave of calm breaks, moves forward and pulls back – and again, again. In an instant he will enter her Jade Gate to caress and kiss and move where only his Lord has visited. He knows that once there he will seal his own fate . . .
     It is the talk of poets that women are often at their most sensitive to love’s attention in the morning hours, and that this was, for so many reasons, the most impractical of times for men. Zuo Fen herself had written fu poems that took the reader to the most intimate moments of a concubine’s experience in the morning hours, those times when alone the body gathers to itself its essential nature, and is often caressed with the woman’s own hand and thoughts. To understand such circumstance, to hold its sweetness as an abiding taste during the formalities of the day, only to release its flavour in the pleasure hours of the night, was a manly attribute, said to be treasured, indeed honoured by women.
      When Meng Ning withdrew Zuo Fen lay for some while letting the unaccustomed circumstance and its location only gradually allow a return to conscious and present thoughts. She pictured now her journey to the Red Slate Path, Jia Li, her baby on her back, striding beside Meng Ning, then herself and finally Mei Lim - who would have entreated her mistress to be allowed to accompany her. There was the glade, a small bowl in the hillside where it was just possible to see a small cave from which, glistening, the broken patterns of the slate path fell after half a li into the lake. She would investigate the cave. She would walk to the water’s edge, where the trees stepped into and reached over the lake to lay a carpet of fallen leaves. Then to see the path gradually, gradually disappear into the depths.
    Whilst Zuo Fen, with her eyes closed, projected her thoughts forward in time, with accustomed tact Mei Lim left those accouterments a woman needs after the attentions of a lover. She feared for the young man, though she knew her Lord prized too much his Lady of The Purple Chamber to effect jealousy or display anger.
    As the sun cleared away the thin cloud and approached its zenith the company broached the crest of the hill above the glade. It was, Zuo Fen had to admit, just as she had imagined lying prone and in disarray in the Emperor’s hall. In silence, and in the company of her imagination, she now paced from cave to path to water, and standing at the very edge of the lake’s bank focused her mind to envisage the events of twenty years past.
     It was as though a rhapsody was already formed. She found herself recounting the tale in her world of characters where there is only present time. She felt her hand describe them with the flow of her brush, heard the sound of its movement across the thick parchment. She was slow to notice that Meng Ning had disrobed and was entering the water. Without a word she watched him move through the carpet of floating leaves, some sticking to his nakedness, and onwards, slowly, following the submerged path until his torso then only his shoulders were visible. She then knew what he hoped to find, even after the passage of so many years.

She saw it all, suddenly. The sorcerer Yang Mo and the Emperor’s second wife descending the Red Slate Path as a cavalcade of fire and smoke, loud flashes of light, noises of brass and clashing metal enveloped the glade and the boat itself. The watching company witnessed for a moment the couple disappear under the waters only for their collective sight to be shrouded in a climaxed confusion of the sorcerer’s devices and effects.

When, finally the smoke cleared, the boat and the lovers had vanished.

Zuo Fen watched Meng Ning disappear from view. She imagined him, as the pearl fishers she had heard tell of, diving down to the depths, holding his breath to seek what might remain of the illusory boat. But time passed beyond the possibility of what she knew could be endured by human-kind. The surface of the water remained unbroken. The division of open water made by Meng Ning in breaking apart the carpet of floating leaves was already reforming itself.
   Removing her cloak and her boots, and unpinning her hair, Zuo Fen stepped into the water. A memory floated towards her of bathing in the lake near to her summer retreat. Water held no fear for her, only now the cold consumed her. Her loosed hair, and her elaborate untied robe settled on the water’s surface: to surround her like a lily pad, she the budding flower at its centre. She felt her feet still firmly on the Red Slate Path, her chin now resting on the water’s surface. Whatever had happened to Meng Ning she knew her action to be compliant. She had immersed herself with the very element that had brought him either death or, as she knew in her heart, a most honorable escape.
LLZ Mar 2021
Paakar tuhje na paya mene,
Tuhje na paakar bhi apna banaya mene.
Meri pyaar ki raah tujh tk banayi mene,
Afsos uss raah ki manzil ko tujhme na paya mene.
Ki Teri baato Mei khud ko na paya mene ,
Tere hone ke ehsaas ko hi baate banaya mene .
Mana Mei Teri zindagi Mei nahi ,
Par tuhjko hi apni Zindagi banaya mene.
Khokar bhi na khoya tujko,
Paakar khud Mei paya tujko,
Bharkar aankho Mei nami,
Aur leke hotho pei halki si muskaan ,
"TU MERA HASIL NAHI "
Yeh bhi khud ko samjhaya mene.
Na hokar bhi mere lagte ** tum.
Aridea P Oct 2011
Jakarta, 25 Mei 2008

Kapan ku boleh ke sana
Dunia terindah untuk semua
Udara harum nan sejuk
Tiada panas mentari yang menyengat
Boleh kah aku melangkah
Menuju ke pintu surge
Impian semua manusia
Sudikah Kau Tuhan?
Bila ku pijakkan kaki di surge
Merasakan hidup istimewa
Penuh ayat-ayat doa
Surga-Mu  indah Tuhan…
Bolehkah ku sentuh sejenak
Merasa damai nan indah
Ku mulai masuk ‘tuk selamanya
Sharon Talbot Jul 2018
We three met
Beneath the Eye In the Sky,
Above the green-blue lake.

You two were sent for a lesson;
I met you to escape.

Stories from long ago
And old films that you two know
Are shining new to me.

One of you loves me
And to the other
I made love.

But in teaching me your lessons,
(Balzac is our favourite!)
You have taught me not to love.

Let us lie here under the sky
Unwatched by others’ eyes,
Away from what you know.

One day you will accept this place,
But then, I will need to go.

Years from now, if you return,
You will still not find me.

Look for my name
On a candle-lit, paper boat,
In the twilight of
Zhongyuanjie
On the blue-green lake.
On the last day of Zhongyuanjie (Hungry Ghost Day), Many families float river lanterns on little boats in the evening. People make colorful lanterns out of wood and paper, and families write their ancestors’ name on the lanterns. The ghosts are believed to follow the floating river lanterns away. Mai’s name may be one one of the lanterns. Luo swims out into the lake to find her.
Nigel Morgan Oct 2012
When Zuo Fen woke day was well advanced into the Horse hour. In her darkened room a frame of the brightest light pulsed around the shuttered window. A breeze of scents from her herb garden brought sage, motherwort and lovage to cleanse the confined air, what remained of his visit, those rare aromatic oils from a body freed from its robes. Turning her head into the pillow that odour of him embraced her once more as in the deepest and most prolonged kiss , when with no space to breathe passion displaces reason in the mind.
 
The goat cart had brought him silently to her court in the Tiger hour, as was his custom in these summer days when, tired of his women’s attention, he seeks her company. In the vestibule her maid leaves a bowl of fresh water scented with lemon juice, a towel, her late uncle’s comb, a salve for his hands. Without removing his shoes, an Emperor’s privilege, he enters her study pausing momentarily while Xi-Lu removes himself from the exalted presence, his long tail *****, his walk provocative, dismissive. Zuo Fen is at her desk, brush in hand she finishes a copy of  ‘A Rhapsody for my Lord’. She has submitted herself to enter yet again that persona of the young concubine taken from her family to serve that community from which there seems no escape.
 
I was born in a humble, isolated, thatched house,
And was never well-versed in writing.
I never saw the marvellous pictures of books,
Nor had I heard of the classics of ancient sages.
I am dim-witted, humble and ignorant,
But was mistakenly placed in the Purple Palace . . .

 
He loves to hear her read such words, to imagine this fragile girl, and see her life at court described in the poet’s elegant characters. Zuo Fen’s scrolls lie on his second desk. Touching them, as he does frequently, is to touch her, is to feel mystery of her long body with its disregard of the courtly customs of his many, many women; the soft hair on her legs, the deep forest guarding her hidden ***, her peasant feet, her long fingers with their scent of ink and herbs.
 
He kneels beside her, gradually opening his ringed hand wide on her gowned thigh, then closing, then opening. A habit: an affectation. His head is bent in an obeisance he has no need to make, only, as he desires her he does this, so she knows this is so. She is prepared, as always, to act the part, or be this self she has opened to him, in all innocence at first, then in quiet delight that this is so and no more.
 
‘A rhapsody for me perhaps?’
‘What does Liu Xie say? The rhapsody is a fork in the road . . .
‘ . . . a different line’, he interrupts and quotes,’ it describes people and objects. It pictures appearance with a brilliance akin to sculpture or painting.’
‘What is clogged and confined it invariably opens. It depicts the commonplace with unbounded charm.’
‘But the goal of the form is beauty well-ordered . . . . as you are, dearest poet.’
‘You spoilt the richness of Lui Xie’s ending . . .’
‘I would rather speak of your beauty than Xie’s talk of gardening.’
‘Weeding is not gardening my Lord.’
 
And with that he summons her to read her rhapsody whilst his hands part her gown . . .
 
Over the years since he took her maidenhead, brusquely, with the impatience of his station, and she, on their second encounter deflowered him in turn with her poem about the pleasure due to woman, they had become as one branch on the same tree. She sought to be, and was, his equal in the prowess of scholastic memory. She had honed such facility with the word: years of training from her father in the palace archives and later in the mind games invented by and played with her brother. Then, as she entered womanhood and feared oblivion in an arranged marriage, she invented the persona of the pale girl, a fiction, who, with great gentleness and poetry, guided the male reader into the secrets of a woman’s ****** pleasure and fulfilment. In disguise, and with her brother’s help, she had sought those outside concubinage - for whom the congress of the male and female is rarely negotiable. She listened and transcribed, then gradually drew the Emperor into a web of new experience to which he readily succumbed, and the like of which he could have hardly imagined. He wished to promote her to the first lady of his Purple Chamber. She declined, insisting he provide her with a court distant from his palace rooms, yet close to the Zu-lin gardens, a place of quiet, meditation and the study of astronomy.
 
But today, this hot summer’s day, she had reckoned to be her birthday. She expected due recognition for one whose days moved closer to that age when a birthday is traditionally and lavishly celebrated. Her maid Mei-Lim would have already prepared the egg dishes associated with this special day. Her brother Zuo-Si may have penned a celebratory ode, and later would visit her with his lute to caress his subtle words of invention.
 
Your green eyes reflect a world apart
Where into silence words are formed dew-like,
Glistening as the sun rises on this precious day.
As a stony spring washes over precious jade,
delicate fishes swim in its depths
dancing to your reflection on the cool surface.
No need of strings, or bamboo instruments
When mountains and waters give forth their pure notes . . .

 
Her lord had left on her desk his own Confucian-led offering, in brushstrokes of his time-stretched hand, but his own hand nevertheless, and then in salutation the flower-like character leh (joy)
 
‘Wheresoever you go, go with all your heart’.
 
Meanwhile Xi-Lu stirred on the coverlet reminding Zuo Fen that the day was advancing and he had received no attention or conversation. It was whispered abroad that this lady spoke with her cat whom each afternoon would accompany his mistress on a walk through the adjacent gardens. It was true, Zuo Fen had taught Xi-Lu to converse in the dialect of her late mother’s province, but that is another story.
 
Lying on her back, eyes firmly shut, Zuo Fen surveyed the past year, a year of her brother’s pilgrimage to the Tai Mountains, his subsequent disappearance at the onset of winter, her Lord’s anger then indulgence as he allowed her to seek Zuo Si’s whereabouts. She thought of her sojourn in Ryzoki, the village of stone, where she discovered the blind servant girl who had revealed not only her brother’s whereabouts but her undying love for this strange, ungainly, uncomfortably ugly man who, with the experience gained from his sister’s persistent research had finally learned to love and be loved in equal measure for his gentle and tender actions. And together, their triumph: in ‘summoning the recluse’, and not one alone but a community of five living harmoniously in caves of the limestone heights. Now returned they had worked in ever secret ways to serve their Emperor in his conflict against the war-lord Tang.
 
She now resolved to take a brief holiday from this espionage, her stroking of the Emperor’s mind and body, and those caring sisterly duties she so readily performed. She would remove herself and her maid to a forest cabin: to lie in the dry mottled grass of summer and listen to the rustle of leaves, the chatter of birds, the sounds of insects and the creak-crack of the forest in the summer heat. She would plan a new chapter in her work as a poet and writer: she would be the pale girl no longer but a woman of strength and confidence made beautiful by good fortune, wise management and a generosity of spirit. She needed to prepare herself for her Lord’s demise, when their joyful hours living the lives of Prince and Lady of Xiang, he with his stallion gathering galingales, she with her dreams of an underwater house, would no longer be. She would study the ways of the old. She would seek to learn how peace and serenity might overcome those afflictions of age and circumstance, and when it is said that love’s chemistry distils pure joy through the intense refinement of memory.
This short story with poetry introduces the world of Zuo Fen, one of the first female poets of Chinese antiquity.
Nigel Morgan Oct 2012
The courtesan and poet Zuo Fen had two cats Xe Ming and Xi Ming. Living in her distant court with only her maid Hu Yin, her cats were often her closest companions and, like herself, of a crepuscular nature.
      It was the very depths of winter and the first moon of the Solstice had risen. The old year had nearly passed.
      The day itself was almost over. Most of the inner courts retired before the new day began (at about 11.0pm), but not Zuo Fen. She summoned her maid to dress her in her winter furs, gathered her cats on a long chain leash, and walked out into the Haulin Gardens.
      These large and semi-wild gardens were adjacent to the walls of her personal court. The father of the present Emperor had created there a forest once stocked with game, a lake to the brim with carp and rich in waterfowl, and a series of tall structures surrounded by a moat from which astronomers were able to observe the firmament.
      Emperor Wu liked to think of Zuo Fen walking at night in his father’s park, though he rarely saw her there. He knew that she valued that time alone to prepare herself for his visits, visits that rarely occurred until the Tiger hours between 3.0am and 6.0am when his goat-drawn carriage would find its way to her court unbidden. She herself would welcome him with steaming chai and sometimes a new rhapsody. They would recline on her bed and discuss the content and significance of certain writings they knew and loved. Discussion sometimes became an elaborate game when a favoured Classical text would be taken as the starting point for an exchange of quotation. Gradually quotation would be displaced by subtle invention and Zuo Fen would find the Emperor manoeuvring her into making declarations of a passionate or ****** nature.
       It seemed her very voice captivated him and despite herself and her inclinations they would join as lovers with an intensity of purpose, a great tenderness, and deep joy. He would rest his head inside her cloak and allow her lips to caress his ears with tales of river and mountain, descriptions of the flights of birds and the opening of flowers. He spoke to her ******* of the rising moon, its myriad reflections on the waters of Ling Lake, and of its trees whose winter branches caressed the cold surface.

Whilst Zuo Fen walked in the midnight park with her cats she reflected on an afternoon of frustration. She had attempted to assemble a new poem for her Lord.  Despite being himself an accomplished poet and having an extraordinary memory for Classical verse, the Emperor retained a penchant for stories about Mei-Lim, a young Suchan girl dragged from her family to serve as a courtesan at his court.
      Zuo Fen had invented this girl to articulate some of her own expressions of homesickness, despair, periods of constant tearfulness, and abject loneliness. Such things seemed to touch something in the Emperor. It was as though he enjoyed wallowing in these descriptions and his favourite A Rhapsody on Being far from Home he loved to hear from the poet’s own lips, again and again. Zuo Fen felt she was tempting providence not to compose something new, before being ordered to do so.
      As she struggled through the afternoon to inject some fresh and meaningful content into a story already milked dry Zuo Fen became aware of her cats. Xi Ming lay languorously across her folded feet. Xe Ming perched like an immutable porcelain figure on a stool beside her low writing table.
Zuo Fen often consulted her cats. ‘Xi Ming, will my Lord like this stanza?’

“The stones that ring out from your pony’s hooves
announce your path through the cloud forest”


She would always wait patiently for Xi Ming’s reply, playing a game with her imagination to extract an answer from the cinnamon scented air of her winter chamber.
      ‘He will think his pony’s hooves will flash with sparks kindling the fire of his passion as he prepares to meet his beloved’.
      ‘Oh such a wise cat, Xi Ming’, and she would press his warm body further into her lap. But today, as she imagined this dialogue, a second voice appeared in her thoughts.
      ‘Gracious Lady, your Xe Ming knows his under-standing is poor, his education weak, but surely this image, taken as it is from the poet Lu Ji, suggests how unlikely it would be for the spark of love and passion to take hold without nurture and care, impossible on a hard journey’.
       This was unprecedented. What had brought such a response from her imagination? And before she could elicit an answer it was as though Xe Ming spoke with these words of Confucius.

“Do not be concerned about others not appreciating you, be concerned about you not appreciating others”

Being the very sensible woman she was, Zuo Fen dismissed such admonition (from a cat) and called for tea.

Later as she walked her beauties by the frozen lake, the golden carp nosing around just beneath the ice, she recalled the moment and wondered. A thought came to her  . . .
       She would petition Xe Ming’s help to write a new rhapsody, perhaps titled Rhapsody on the Thought of Separation.

Both Zuo Fen’s cats came from her parental home in Lingzhi. They were large, big-***** mountain cats; strong animals with bear-like paws, short whiskered and big eared. Their coats were a glassy grey, the hairs tipped with a sprinkling of white giving the fur an impression of being wet with dew or caught by a brief shower.
       When she thought of her esteemed father, the Imperial Archivist, there was always a cat somewhere; in his study at home, in the official archives where he worked. There was always a cat close at hand, listening?
       What texts did her father know by heart that she did not know? What about the Lu Yu – the Confucian text book of advice and etiquette for court officials. She had never bothered to learn it, even read it seemed unnecessary, but through her brother Zuo Si she knew something of its contents and purpose.

Confucius was once asked what were the qualifications of public office. ‘Revere the five forms of goodness and abandon the four vices and you can qualify for public office’.
       For the life of her Zuo Fen could not remember these five forms of goodness (although she could make a stab at guessing them). As for those vices? No, she was without an idea. If she had ever known, their detail had totally passed from her memory.
       Settled once again in her chamber she called Hu Yin and asked her to remove Xi Ming for the night. She had three hours or so before the Emperor might appear. There was time.
        Xe Ming was by nature a distant cat, aloof, never seeking affection. He would look the other way if regarded, pace to the corner of a room if spoken to. In summer he would hide himself in the deep undergrowth of Zuo Fen’s garden.
       Tonight Zuo Fen picked him up and placed him on her left shoulder. She walked around her room stroking him gently with her small strong fingers, so different from the manicured talons of her colleagues in the Purple Palace. Embroidery, of which she was an accomplished exponent, was impossible with long nails.
       From her scroll cupboard she selected her brother’s annotated copy of the Lun Yu, placing it unrolled on her desk. It would be those questions from the disciple Tzu Chang, she thought, so the final chapters perhaps. She sat down carefully on the thick fleece and Mongolian rug in front of her desk letting Xe Ming spill over her arms into a space beside her.
       This was strange indeed. As she sat beside Xe Ming in the light of the butter lamps holding his flickering gaze it was as though a veil began to lift between them.
       ‘At last you understand’, a voice appeared to whisper,’ after all this time you have realised . . .’
      Zuo Fen lost track of time. The cat was completely motionless. She could hear Hu Yin snoring lightly next door, no doubt glad to have Xi Ming beside her on her mat.
      ‘Xe Ming’, she said softly, ‘today I heard you quote from Confucius’.
      The cat remained inscrutable, completely still.
      ‘I think you may be able to help me write a new poem for my Lord. Heaven knows I need something or he will tire of me and this court will cease to enjoy his favour’.
      ‘Xe Ming, I have to test you. I think you can ‘speak’ to me, but I need to learn to talk to you’.
      ‘Tzu Chang once asked Confucius what were the qualifications needed for public office? Confucius said, I believe, that there were five forms of goodness to revere, and four vices to abandon’.
       ‘Can you tell me what they are?’
      Xe Ming turned his back on Zuo Fen and stepped gently away from the table and into a dark and distant corner of the chamber.
      ‘The gentle man is generous but not extravagant, works without complaint, has desires without being greedy, is at peace, but not arrogant, and commands respect but not fear’.
      Zuo Fen felt her breathing come short and fast. This voice inside her; richly-texture, male, so close it could be from a lover at the epicentre of a passionate entanglement; it caressed her.
      She heard herself say aloud, ‘and the four vices’.
      ‘To cause a death or imprisonment without teaching can be called cruelty; to judge results without prerequisites can be called tyranny; to impose deadlines on improper orders can be thievery; and when giving in the procedure of receipt and disbursement, to stint can be called officious’.
       Xe Ming then appeared out of the darkness and came and sat in the folds of her night cloak, between her legs. She stroked his glistening fur.
       Zuo Fen didn’t need to consult the Lu Yu on her desk. She knew this was unnecessary. She got to her feet and stepped through the curtains into an antechamber to relieve herself.
       When she returned Xe Ming had assumed his porcelain figure pose. So she gathered a fresh scroll, her writing brushes, her inks, her wax stamps, and wrote:

‘I was born in a humble, isolated, thatched house,
and was never well versed in writing.
I never saw the marvellous pictures of books,
nor had I heard of the classics of earlier sages.
I am dimwitted, humble and ignorant . . ‘


As she stopped to consider the next chain of characters she saw in her mind’s eye the Purple Palace, the palace of the concubines of the Emperor. Sitting next to the Purple Chamber there was a large grey cat, its fur sprinkled with tiny flecks of white looking as though the animal had been caught in a shower of rain.
       Zuo Fen turned from her script to see where Xe Ming had got to, but he had gone. She knew however that he would always be there. Wherever her imagination took her, she could seek out this cat and the words would flow.

Before returning to her new text Zuo Fen thought she might remind herself of Liu Xie’s words on the form of the Rhapsody. If Emperor Wu appeared later she would quote it (to his astonishment) from The Literary Mind and the Carving of Dragons.

*The rhapsody derives from poetry,
A fork in the road, a different line of development;
It describes objects, pictures and their appearance,
With a brilliance akin to sculpture and painting.
What is clogged and confined it invariably opens up;
It depicts the commonplace with unbounded charm;
But the goal of the form is of beauty well ordered,
Words retained for their loveliness when weeds have been cut away.
By the fond name that was his own and mine,
The last upon his lips that strove with doom,
He called me and I saw the light assume
A sudden glory and around him shine;
And nearer now I saw the laureled line
Of the august of Song before me loom,
And knew the voices, erstwhile through the gloom,
That whispered and forbade me to repine.
And with farewell, a shaft of splendor sank
Out of the stars and faded as a flame,
And down the night, on clouds of glory, came
The battle seraphs halting rank on rank;
And lifted heavenward to heroic peace,
He passed and left me hope beyond surcease.
His wife was due on the midnight plane
That was coming from Beijing,
He got to the airport early so
He wouldn’t miss the thing,
There wasn’t a seat at Wenzhou so
He found that he had to stand,
It’s always tough when you’re sleeping rough
Away, in a foreign land.

He settled down in a corner, set
His back up next to the wall,
Pulled out the pic of his own Mei Ling
In front of a waterfall,
Her eyes smiled into the camera when
He’d taken the snap that day,
But that was before they married,
Now it seemed an age away.

They’d both had to fight her parents when
They saw he was from the west,
They called him a foreign devil, a
Yang wei, and all the rest,
They wanted her wed to a Han, they said,
Mei Ling had answered ‘No!’
She’d made her mind up herself, she said,
And would be his own lӑo pό.

She said she was flying China Air
And that gave him cause for thought,
He knew that their safety record was
The worst in any port,
But he waited patiently by the clock
Til it gave the midnight chime,
Then wandered into reception where
She’d be, most any time.

The Chinese waiting beside him
Milled and jabbered as they stood,
He never could understand a word
But he smiled as if he could,
And then he found they were friendly
Though they nudged each other now,
And some had even approached him with
Their greeting, their Ni Hao.

By half past twelve, there wasn’t a plane
And the people looked upset,
He thought there’d be an announcement,
Someone said, ‘there’s nothing yet.’
At one o’clock there were tears and fears
That the plane would never show,
And then he heard that the plane had ditched
In the waters off Ningbo.

His heart had sunk and he almost cried
But he thought to grieve with grace,
And everyone else was struggling
They were scared of ‘losing face’,
But they all broke down when a man came round
And he said, ‘there’s little hope,’
There wasn’t a single survivor,
Then he cried, he couldn’t cope.

He’d lost the love of his life, Mei Ling
With her beaming almond eyes,
Her jet black hair and her loving stare
But he got a quick surprise,
A man led him to a phone where they
Had called for him in vain,
And from Beijing he heard Mei Ling
Who sobbed, ‘I missed the plane!’

David Lewis Paget
I was sitting, deep in my study
Under a single desktop light,
Listening to the patter of rain
As I wrote, late in the night.
The other sound was the scrape of the nib
As it traced ink over the page,
A setting on out of the mood within
As I traced McMurtrey’s rage.

I often would write at night back then
For the house was dark and still,
With none of the interruptions that
The day would seek to fill,
So the world outside would fade from view
As the Moon came out to shine,
Then I could re-visit the world I knew
In the latest storyline.

Each tale I told from a birds-eye view
As I watched from my secret place,
A god’s perspective of what I knew
Of despair, or a saving grace,
My characters hung from puppet strings
That I dangled down from my pen,
And I teased and taunted with sufferings
In the way that I did, back then.

I never would share with the world outside
What happened within these walls,
Or open up to their prying eyes
My visions of haunted halls,
For that would take them into the light,
Out here where the world is real,
And men could see what a cruel pen
A storyteller reveals.

The night that I sat there, pondering
How to make McMurtrey fail,
He’d been obsessed with the girl Mei Ling
She was like his Holy Grail,
The storm outside was gathering
And the thunder brought more rain,
When after a lightning flash, I heard
A tap on the window pane.

It made me start, I must admit
My skin had begun to crawl,
I very slowly swivelled my chair
Around, aside to the wall,
I pulled the curtains apart just then
And I peered out into the night,
But the face that stared in back at me
Was stark in the pale moonlight.

I heard him say, vaguely, ‘Let me in!’
As the lightning flashed once more,
Despite myself, I got to my feet
Unlocking the outer door,
He strode on into the study, stood
In a stance, most threatening,
‘I’ve come in search of my lady love,
As you well would know - Mei Ling!’

The room had shimmered and shifted then
And it faded from my sight,
We stood in the Hall of Gordonstall
And I thought, ‘This isn’t right.’
The hall was hung with the tapestries
They’d brought from an old Crusade,
But nothing was real, I knew it then,
They were things that my pen had made.

‘Mei Ling’s betrothed to a Mandarin
And she wears his dragon ring,
The last I heard she was headed out
On her way back to Beijing.’
‘Then you’d better pull out your pen, old man,
Ensure that the lady stayed,
Or you’ll never get out of your mind again
While this storyline’s delayed.’

I wander the Hall of Gordonstall
And I see no way outside,
I hadn’t written the doorways in
And the walls are high and wide,
I need someone from the real world
To knock at my study door,
But I fear that I’ve lost myself inside,
As I pace the flagstone floor.

David Lewis Paget
Aridea P Jan 2012
Jakarta, 13 Mei 2007

Ku pandang sisi-sisi sudut di sebuah ruangan
Tiada apapun yang dapat ku kenang
Selain seorang teman yang setia kawan

Ku harap ada seorang kawan yang menemaniku
Di kesunyian malam yang terus mengancam
Seolah tak peduli akan ketenangan

Namun
Ku mencoba untuk sabar menanti kerinduan
Pada seorang terkasih yang s’lalu ku dambakan



(Puisi ini dibuat untuk dinilai oleh guru bahasa pada tanggal 14 Mei 2007, dan mendapat nilai 8)
Liam C Calhoun Jul 2016
We cannot
Talk
Because we seldom share
Language,
The token tongue,
But still,
We conquer –
Communicate.
We transmit
Smiles and fingers
Pointing towards
Needs,
Wants
And what’s, “next,”
Egg cakes, soy and tea
For the son she’d never
Expected –
He who’d lose a tooth,
He who’d hold her daughter,
He who'd love
Eternity.
Nigel Morgan Jan 2013
Thus reconfigured the party covered the first two days of the journey with speed and ease. As evening approached on the second day it was clear that a village resthouse was to be favoured as its owner had ridden out to greet his illustrious guests. He assured the party of complete secrecy, their valuable horses to be his special concern.
​   Away from the palace Zuo Fen set herself to enjoy the rural pleasures of an autumn evening. This time of freedom from the palace duties, from her Lord’s often-indiscriminate attention, she valued as a most generous gift. She composed swiftly a fu poem in gratitude to her Lord’s trust and favour.
 
How fortunate to dip this hand
In a flowing stream whose water
Is already touched by the first snows
Know that I shall bring its caress
to the mouthpiece of my Lord’s  jade flute
holding its body with spread fingers
to press to open to close to open

 
The stream bisected the village, a village of stone and wattle buildings, though the rest house was stone through and through. She had ventured on her arrival up onto its flat roof covered as it was with harvest produce laid out in abundance. The colours and textures of peppers, yams, marrows, eggplant, and such curious mushrooms as she had never before seen, all this she gathered with joy into her imagination’s memory.
​      With Mei Ling’s help she then transformed herself back into a woman, though with the simplest of robes over the Mongolian garments of wool she favoured to fend off the cold. Then, after alarming the resthouse keeper’s wife and servants by entering the kitchen, she planned a meal to her liking, sought the herb garden and enquired about the storing of vegetables for the long winter ahead.
      ​As the evening progressed she was surprised to discover Meng Ning had gone on ahead to Eryi-lou. It was a capricious decision born of his wariness of Zuo Fen. He felt intimidated by the persona she had assumed. Here was a woman of infinite grace yet simple charm who in the time it took to travel 6 li had become unrecognizable. Even her voice she dropped into a lower register and gained louder amplitude. When they reached the village he had moved purposefully to provide assistance as she prepared to dismount, only to see her grip the high pommel and swing her leg confidently across her pony and her body slide down the pony’s flanks to a standing position. So as the late afternoon light failed he had driven his horse up and up the mountain path, forcing himself to think only of the route and task ahead. He had acquired the company of a local guide who, on foot, out-paced his horse, but would see him safe down the path in the coming darkness. There would be a moon, but it had yet to rise.
        ​To his surprise the caretaker of Eryi-lou was a young woman, a daughter perhaps of its official guardian Gao Cheng, a daughter Meng Ning considered banished to this remote spot: she carried a small child on her back. He would enquire later. For now, he sought in her company to reconnoiter the decaying web of wooden pavilions, some already invaded by nature. It was then he realized his mistake. He thought himself into Zuo Fen’s mind. Surely she would wish to come upon this place untouched and unprepared by his offices. He motioned to the young woman to come outside, and standing on one of the many terraces explained his error, asked her not to speak of his inappropriate visit, but made to suggest that there was a room ‘always kept for an official’s visit’, that it be swept and suitably provisioned. Her voice responded in a dialect he could hardly decipher. It had the edge of a lone bird’s roosting call. He knew she was trying to explain something of importance to him, but he quickly lost the thread. He could see the faint gleam of the lake reflected in her eyes, hear the snuffle of her baby carried against on her back, and in the near distance he was aware of the village guide admonishing his horse. He bowed and left.
 
‘You are a most considerate companion, Meng Ning,’ Zou Fen said, as summoned to her presence, the chamberlain prostrated himself before the woman he was charged to serve and protect.
‘My lady, you already know I am a fool.’
‘Yes, but an honest fool with a kind heart. You sought my well-being at Eryi-lou, but I think you rightly imagined I might wish to experience this dream habitation in an inviolate state. Let us say you made a dream journey there. No harm done.’
     ​He explained about the caretaker and that a suite of rooms was always kept ready for an official. That was all he would say. He was about to retreat from the guest room now vivid with firelight and rich with the scent of cinnamon, when she lifted her hand to stay his going.
 
‘You are a brave young man to accept charge of my company. I am sure you know how my Lord is likely to remove you from his circle on our return. I feel unworthy of such sacrifice. I did not expect my Lord’s favour in this enterprise, but my words, my application, were clearly persuasive. I feel we are bound together you and I, and we must see our enterprise be the making of a fine poetic rhapsody for the autumn season – something you might share one day with your children and their children. You must understand that I am already moving towards a meeting of reality and the world of dreams and visions. Do not be afraid should I seek your intimate council. I know already you dream a little of my person. You may even imagine our conjunction as lovers. Women know these things, and, as you may have heard, I have tutored your Emperor in the ways of the Pale Girl.’
 
‘My lady . . .
 
Zou Fen reaches out for paper and brush Mei Lim had placed to her right hand. Kneeling on the roughly swept floor, her long limbs hidden under her cloak, she deftly paints seven lines of characters:
 
The autumn air is clear,
The autumn moon is bright.
Fallen leaves gather and scatter,
The jackdaw perches and starts anew.
We think of each other- when will we meet?
This hour, this night, my feelings are . . .

 
‘I wonder how we are to cast the final character?’
‘Not yet, and not here my Lady’. And with that Meng Ning takes his leave.
 
(to be continued)
LLZ Sep 2020
Dard-e-dil batao aapna
Saath Mei seh lenge .
Bs ek kadam badao apna,
Yeh fassle Kam Kar denge
Akele nahi ** is dard Mei tum
Dard Bata ke toh dekho
Humdard ban jayenge.
Thaam lo hath humara
Is muskil safar Mei Jana
Vada h hum fir se humsafar ban jayenge
Aur suno ,
Bihkare toh hum bhi h ,
Aankhe humari bhi dubi rehti h tumahri yaado Mei ,
Bs bataye bhi toh kise
Tanha tumhari tarh hum bhi toh h
Soch bhi kaise liya tumne ki
Dard tume ** aur
Fark Hume na pade!😥😥😥
Always with you ,naraz hone ka hak shayad mujhe bhi h
Hashim ZK Jan 2015
Ek sehmi si khwaish dabi rehti hai palko talle,
ek nayaab pankho ki talaash hai shayad usse..
Aksar khamoshi Ke lafzon Mei pucha karti hai,
"Aye dost, itna bata, kis gunaah Ka illzam hai mujhpe?"

---------
A beautiful English translation by fellow poetess Sukeerti:

A scared little wish stays embedded underneath the lashes of my eyes;
Perhaps, it's searching for a pair of flight feathers- rare and precious,
As often, in lyrics enclosed by quietude, this wish questions me-
"O friend of mine, please let me know, what sin am I a convict of?"

PS: Do check out her work; they seldom fail to touch you deep down.
Her profile: http://hellopoetry.com/sukeerti/
I know there are not many people who understand Hindi here, but I thought I'd share it nevertheless.
Seema Aug 2017
Maa Yashoda ke tum dulaare
Tujhe tere bhakt pukare
Chale aao mere makhan chor
Tujhse bandhi hai preet ki dor
Mohini muskaan, chanchal ye maan
Teri pooja karoon mei jeewan bhar
Aayi hai teri madhur janam diwas
Meri hirdaye mei basay rahena, bas
Shama karna, har bhool ko mere Kanha
Kabhi mujhe bhool se bhool na jaana
Haath jhod kar, tujhe sumiroon
Yaad tujhe har pal karoon
Poori kar doh apne bhakto ki kami
Aap ko shubh ** ye janmastami...


©sim
**TRANSLATED ENG**

You are mother "Yashodas" darling
Your followers call upon you
Please come, my little butter thief
With you, is my whimsical tie
Charming smile, restless this heart
Your prayer I do throughout my life
Your mellifluous birthday has come
May you stay in my soul always
Forgive all my fouls, O' Kanha
Never by mistakenly forget me ever
I fold my hands in rosary
I think of you all the time
Fulfill the wishes of your followers
Happy birthday to you...

©sim
Aridea P Oct 2011
Jakarta, Rabu 23 Mei 2007


Malamku penuh kerinduan
Sat itu pun ku mulai ...
Menitikkan air mata ...
Sehingga membasahi pipi ku

Rinduku ini ...
Tak bisa tergantikan apapun
Karna yang ku mau hanyalah dirimu
Seseorang yang selalu menemaniku

Setiap malam setiap waktu
Aku rindu segala yang ada di dirimu
Termasuk belaian sayang di rambutku
Serta pelukan hangat di tubuhku
Aridea P Oct 2011
Jakarta, 10 Mei 2008

Sungguh ku cinta kamu
Ku sayang kamu sampai ku mati
Selama ini yang ku ucapkan
Bahwa kau tercipta untukku
Adalah salah besar untukku

Walau, aku tetap ingin kamu
Saat kau ucapkan lirik itu
Semakin ku ingin kamu
Milikimu, hingga ku tak bernyawa

Ku ingin kau tahu
Aku di sini sayang kamu
Hanya sayang kamu setulus hati ku

Tapi, ku tak bisa ungkap itu
Kau terlalu indah untuk ku miliki
Hanya Dewi Cinta yang pantas
Karena, dia sangat indah dari ku

Hanya bisa ku ungkapkan sayang ku
Dengan puisi indah ini diiringi lirikmu
Saat ini, yang terbayang hanya wajahmu
Ku ucapkan s’luruh cinta ku
Apakah kamu dengar suara hati ku? Cinta…


by. aridea purp
Aridea P Oct 2011
Jakarta, 10 Mei 2008

Lirik lagu tentang cinta itu
Buatku seakan dia ciptakan untukku
Padahal dia ciptakan untuk yang lain

Tapi kenapa harus dia
Yang indah buatku luluh
Angin bawakan sejuk untukku
Karenanya suara lirik itu terdengar

Aku pun menangis
Begitu indahnya sampai ku bermimpi
Tak henti mimpi sampai saat ini
Yang tak ingin ku akhiri

Percuma, dia takkan tahu aku di sini
Meski ku kuras s’luruh air mata
Ku ucapkan seluruh kata cinta
Hingga tak tersisa lagi

Berulang kali angin bawakan lagu itu
Sekali lagi untukku, dari dia yang indah
Selamanya sungguh ku cinta
Karna sampai kini tak pernah ku lupa
Aridea P Oct 2011
Jakarta, 10 Mei 2008

Suara gitar mu indah Sayang…
Lirikmu pun buat ku menangis
Bagaimana aku bisa memeluk mu?
Ucap kata cinta untukmu


Atau cium kening mu…
Dengan penuh rasa cinta
Karena kau ciptakan lirik indah
Bagai Untukku Selamanya


Kau tak perlu tau Sayang…
Aku di sini inginkan kamu
Sungguh lagumu cerminanmu
Meski tak seindah kamu
Lirik lagumu luluhkan hati ku


Sampai kapanpun ku tetap sayang kamu
Tak perlu kau jawab bahwa kau sayang aku
Dengar lagumu di sini pun
Hati ku s’lalu tersenyum untukmu
Teri zulfon k chav mei
chamakta yeh chand sa chehra,

Aab isse jyada mai tujse aur kuch na keh raha.

Sunane ko bahut kuch hai
Par sun ne ko koi nahi.

Mana galti thi meri
Kya mai Maafi k layak hu nahi?
Saman Apr 2011
Ara
Payudaramu
Masih menatapku dengan murung
Entah sudah berapa lama kupegang
Mungkin ratusan ribu kali.

Temaram yang dibentang
Oleh lampu kecil di sudut kamar;
Ranjang yang bermain melodi sendu
Poster kusam mimpi hari depan
Dan radio tua yang tak henti-henti
Menabuh genderang yang telah hilang
Semangat.

Ah, siluetmu
Yang bergoyang-goyang di tiup
Angin asmara.

Aku mencintaimu malam ini
Lebih dari apapun,
Bilang pada bulan
Jangan berhenti bersinar
Dan taburilah wajahnya
Banyak-banyak cahaya bintang.

Aku mencintaimu malam ini
Lebih dari apapun, sampai pintu bilik di ketuk.

(Batam, 17 Mei 09)
Nigel Morgan Jan 2013
It was the eve of the mid-autumn festival. Day had followed day of clear skies but ever-lower temperatures had brought crisp and chill mornings. Zuo Fen began to fear that a first frost would damage her late flowering plants, the delicate tea flowers of the osmanthus. She was already aware of the seven grasses of autumn now present in her garden and would recite standing amongst them the traditional seasonal poem:
 
Flowers blossoming

in autumn fields - 

when I count them on my fingers

they then number seven.

The flowers of bush clover,

eulalia, arrowroot, 

pink, patrinia, 

also, mistflower 

and morning faces flower.

 
Oh the whiteness of Autumn, the season of courage and sadness, a time for the lighting of white candles against the dying of the day. Upon rising Zuo Fen would stand in meditation facing west, the seasonal direction of dreams and visions. Again and again her mind state visited a habitation in the distant mountains, a sprawling summer palace seemingly empty but for the slightest echoes of recent occupation or maybe a caretaker’s attention. In her recurring vision she would walk from room to room, each kaleidoscopic in colour of hanging silks and elaborate murals. Eventually she would find her way outside into a neglected garden that dropped in gentle terraces to a lake where she would observe the ‘thousand colours of water, brilliances and blues.’
 
One morning a young chamberlain sent from her Lord visited her court. He had remained rapt at the sight of the courtesan of the Purple Chamber standing trance-like in her garden. Meng Ning had often positioned himself in the undertaking of the Emperor’s duties to communicate with Zuo Fen, whom Meng Ning admired and was secretly enamored. A few well-chosen words of respect and critical admiration for the poetess had been all it took for Emperor Wu to summon Meng Ning as courier of his express command to his most favoured concubine. Unfailingly gracious towards the formal attentions of the young man Zuo Fen had come to feel at ease with this respectful figure who had succeeded in charming both her cats and Mei Ling her maid.
​       As she stood motionless, attired in her gardening robe and clogs, she became aware of Meng Ning’s presence and, before turning to acknowledge him with a greeting, allowed a thought to form in herself. She would seek his help to identify the summer palace of her waking dreams.
       ​Yes, he knew of such a place, sixty li distant, a hard path it was said, but ladies of the court had once graced its many linked pavilions in the third season. The lake held a restless spirit and it was said no boat had ever sailed its surface. How did he know this, she had asked. A petition from a recluse, a former minister of the treasury, had been received at court requesting its occupation for the winter months. It had been refused, indeed dismissed without further consideration. Meng Ning had been curious as he had once viewed the lake from its western end, but from which the habitation was entirely hidden. Did the Honoured Lady know of the mysterious Red Slate Path said to appear briefly from out of a cave in the steep wooded hillside, cross a bowl-like glade and disappear into the lake depths? The Honoured Lady did not, but was nevertheless caught by Meng Ning’s description which, when he had delivered his message from Emperor Wu and retired, she fell to placing inside her already rich vision of property, lake, and precipitous woodland whose trees and bushes she was busy mind-painting with autumn leaves and berries.
 
After a day of thought and planning Zuo Fen developed an intricate strategy to visit the palace and environs of Eryi-lou. She told herself that she was searching for inspiration to compose an autumn sequence for her Lord that would recall the days of his esteemed father. She had discovered in the palace archives that in his declining years he had summered in this remote place, had filled its pavilions with only his most favoured concubines, its guest apartments with poets and musicians. She asked for Meng Ning’s services as guide and protector.
​      She had expected a blunt refusal, but to her astonishment, her request was granted, but only during the twelve days surrounding her monthly courses. She had smiled at this condition having been almost entirely free from her natural cycle for several years, something not unknown for a woman who had never been with child. Mei Ling dutifully made apparent false evidence of this charade.
​       It was a small party that left the Eastern Gate on a day that promised rain and high wind; seven in all, four to carry Zou Fen’s sedan. But this was to be understood as a matter of protocol rather than necessity, as within 6 li of the palace a pair of ponies for Zou Fen appeared in the road. Drawing back the curtains of her sedan she stepped out dressed as a male traveller, her movements and manner in such a disguise confidently rendered from her months searching for her brother Zuo Si in the wilderness of the Tai Mountains. Meng Ning was both astonished and alarmed as he had not been forewarned of this way of things. It seemed that Zuo Si had probably made all the necessary arrangements.

(to be continued)
MdAsadullah Feb 2017
In baato'n mein na ulajh, khuda kaha'n hai aur kaha'n nahi'n.
***** ke dil mei'n ya masjid mei'n pi.
Per yaad rakh koi to likh raha hai tere amaal.
Sharabi! tu bekhabar hai khuda bekhabar nahi'n.
Ghalib Faraz sharabi , sharab , masjid , zahid , khuda
Aridea P Oct 2011
Jakarta, Minggu 18 Mei 2008


Dulu diary ku indah
Sekarang telah ku ubah
Tapi, saat gagal bertemu kau
Ku satukan diary yang terpisah
Sebagai bukti dariku
Yang kan ku berikan untukmu
Agar kau tau
Seberapa besar  cintaku
Kasih ku t’lah tercurah
Berdetik-detik, berjam-jam
Bahkan berhari-hari lamanya
Semoga dapat kau terima
Meski terluka akhirnya
Biar ku pergi saja
Lupakan kenangan indah
Dan yang paling menyakitkan
Tapi, takkan ku biarkan
Diary ku berubah indahnya
Aridea P May 2012
GFF
Palembang, 7 Mei 2012

Gambaran indah wajahmu selalu terlukis di awan hidupku
Angin pun selalu membawa suaramu di melodiku
Lonceng bersuara merdu tak semerdu suaramu di benakku
Musim selalu berganti namun kau tak terganti
Akar ini bersarang di hatiku
Namanya pasti kau tahu, akar cintaku

Fatamorgana tak bisa ku temukan di sini
Rupamu tertinggal untuk ku nanti
Embun telah membangun sarangnya di hidup ini
Di dalam palung jiwa ini
Engkau fatamorgana ku
Riwayat hidupku
Indahmu, adalah
Cintaku
Kecintaanku akan kamu

Fase cintaku
Energi mutakhir yang diciptakan darimu
Rasa sakit selalu
Genangan air mata melulu
Ucapanku dulu
Setelah ku memberimu itu
Otakku mati, lidahku kelu
Nisanku, tak perlu kau tahu
LLZ Apr 2020
Tera yu mere paas aana ,
Aapne pyaar ka ehssas karana ,
Yaad hai mujhe!

Meri aanko Mei doob Jana,
Yu Tera mere maate ko chumna ,
Yaad hai mujhe!

Mujh par aapna haq jatana,
Mere karib aakar mere ruh ko chu Jana
Meri hooto ki laali churana,
Yaad hai mujhe!

Ki, Meri jiid ko Puri karna,
Meri nadaniyu se pyaar karna,
Yaad hai mujhe!

Mere rutne pe Tera mujhe manana,
Meri sadgi pe yu Tera fida ** Jana,
Yaad hai mujhe!

Teri sari baate yaad hai mujhe,
Lekin bas itna batana,
Kya ,ab bhi Mei yaad hu tujhe?
Aridea P Oct 2011
Jakarta, Kamis 17 Mei 2007

Aku... yang selalu setia menunggu
Walau tiada harapan untukku
Namun... aku berharap semua terwujud
Demi... waktu yang terus bergulir

Adakah Engkau kasihan padaku... Tuhan
Setiap hari... settiap waktu....
Aku... memohon... meminta pada-Mu
Dengan tetesan air mata mengalir

Apakah aku sanggup menunggu harapan
Bila Kau pun tak memperdulikan
Aku akan tetap menunggu di sini
Harapan yang tak kunjung menghampiri
Cliff Green Oct 2017
In the oppressive Shanghai hospital heat
My eighty year 'young' mother
Looks without speculation,
From her one good eye

The strokes have left their mark
What is the character for senility?
"I have to go now Ma; home to Mei Guo"
"Yes; hurry, or the Japanese will arrest you"
Mei Guo is the Chinese word for the United States - literal translation is beautiful country
Aridea P Oct 2011
Jakarta
Senin 7 Mei 2007


Suatu ketika tak sengaja
Aku terbayang seseorang
Yang indah dengan senyuman

Sejak itu pun
Aku mulai menulis kata-kata
Dan aku rangkai
Sehingga menjadi kalimat-kalimat yang indah

Itulah puisi yang akan kupersembahkan
Hanya untuk dirinya
Di suatu tempat terindah di langit sana

Betapa senangnya hati ku
T’lah ku sampaikan isi hati ku
Lewat puisi yang  indah
Yang tak pernah ku lupakan sepanjang waktu
Nigel Morgan Jan 2013
Zuo Fen meets Jia Li and her child Hui Ying. The temporary guardian of the palace speaks with the help of one of the pack-horse men who understands something of the dialect this young woman owns. Zuo Fen would rather envelope Jia Li with her eyes than communicate in three-way speech. And so when Jia Li begins haltingly to tell the same tale told to Meng Ning the previous night Zuo Fen halts her translator with a gesture until the story – and this is what it appears to be – is told.

(Here Zuo Fen assumes the persona of Jia Li as part of her rhapsody titled The Sorcerer of Eryi-lou)

Alone in this crumbling palace
I guard my father’s charge,
He has been ill since late Spring
And I have disgraced my family
With a child whose father stayed
but a week trading horses.
Hui Ying was born here
And here we hope to stay.

I have now come to recognize
Many spirits of the past.
Mostly invisible I take them by surprise
In their mortal form; meeting a lady
And her maid on the hall terrace;
Seeing two men bent over
A game of go in a lesser chamber.
Music and the sound of poetry float
Variously through the many rooms.
The aroma of food comes and goes.
The burning of incense is ever present.

For many seasons my village supported
Palace life during the Emperor’s summer visits.
We provisioned and provided animals
For food and transport. Our young men,
Our women too were propositioned
For the more elaborate practices of the court.
Twenty summers long the palace secured for us
a livelihood beyond expectation.

Over time the events of the Emperor’s
Last sojourn in the palace became
For us the stuff of legend, though we do not
Embroider its story and have remained silent
Out of respect for the Emperor’s memory.
We know his son has rarely ventured here.

Let me only tell what has come from
my father’s lips, what he as a young man
Witnessed and through his guardianship
Has protected and honoured. He was chosen
By officials of the Emperor as a trusted servant,
A man who would oversee what had been precious,
What had been valued here, and is still deemed to be.

My father has spoken to me of the disappearance
Of the Emperor’s second wife with the sorcerer Yang Mo,
A disappearance witnessed by the whole company of visitors,
By the Emperor himself, and his son. I am charged to tell
Of this only to those bearing Emperor Wu’s seal.  Know I speak
With all truth and honesty in lieu of my father’s presence.

Amongst the many guests honoured by the Emperor
The sorcerer Yang Mo arrived by invitation
To spend part of the third season at Eryi-lou.
Already well-known to the court he had come
At the express wish of second wife Xie Jiu.
It is said that he created many remarkable illusions.
Unusual objects and rare animals were summoned to appear,
Rain fell and winds blew inside the Emperor’s hall,
There were piercings of flesh and limbs seemingly severed.
One morning it is said Yang Mo caused a boat
To appear on the lake, thereby at odds with the legend
That no vessel should ever touch its surface. Forthwith,
The Emperor decreed that such sorcery should
cease. But he was discouraged by second wife Xie Jiu
Who wished to visit the boat and sail on the lake.
Yang Mo offered to escort her across the waters
And led the assembled company to a small beach where
A path of red slate had been laid.  This appeared from
within a cave in the hillside. From thence it travelled
to the water’s edge and beyond, under the water
in the direction of the magical boat. Yang Mo is said
to have brought wind and fire and smoke
To play upon the company, finally inviting Xie Jiu to step
On the Red Slate Path and accompany him across the waters.
The couple walked slowly down the path into the lake
Gradually divesting themselves of their garments
As the waters consumed them. Then, before their very eyes
The Emperor’s guests and entourage saw the boat
Enveloped in a pall of smoke and disappear from view.
Yang Mo and Xie Jui were never seen again.

The Emperor was enraged, realizing suddenly
he had been tricked and made to look a cuckold
in front of his own court. In such a remote region
He had the slenderest of means available
to search for the missing couple. He resolved
to leave Eryi-lou immediately. Neither He or
His son nor his court has ever returned.


Allowing Jia Li to tell this tale without interruption had proved a right and wise decision. No sooner had the young woman realized her story had grasped the undivided attention of this celebrated courtesan than her words of description seemed to take on a rough poetry. Zuo Fen felt herself summoning unbidden images of the sorcerer’s illusions, moments of secret and forbidden congress between Yang Mo and Xie Jiu, the appearance of the sailing vessel from the early morning mists, the lovers slowly processing down the Red Slate Path, the disbelief and then fury of the Emperor.
      When Jia Li had taken leave to comfort her infant child Zuo Fen called Mei Lim to summon Meng Ning. She was clearly troubled by how her autumn visions from the west had brought her to this place and its unforeseen legacy of magic and deceit. The illusion of the sailing vessel and the walk into the lake on the Red Slate Path, both were elaborate and well-contrived artifices. They required skilled assistants and collaborators and the most careful planning. Sitting in silence opposite one another the courtesan and the chamberlain set their minds to consider the possible and elaborate trickery that might have been brought to bear on the complicit theft of the Emperor’s second wife. It seemed clear that all official record of what had passed had been expunged, and the Emperor had decided to abandon not only his summer sojourn but also his palace - immediately and forever.
        Zuo Fen wondered at the fate of the lovers. There could be no future for them within the known territories of the Empire. Their lives would have to begin again far distant. The province of Yunnan perhaps? But she laid that thought aside.

(to be continued)
Aridea P Oct 2011
Jakarta, Minggu, 13 Mei 2007


Dulu sebelum aku dan kawanku merasakan dunia
Ku lewati dulu masa-masaku yang suram dan kelam
Namun... setelah Tuhan menegurku
Ku tinggalkan semua kebiasaan burukku

Aku dan kawan-kawanku
Tersentak akan suara adzan itu
Kami pun mencoba menjadi orang yang beriman
Kami pun terus melewatinya

Sampai... kami telah menemukan rasa dunia
Kami telah menjadi orang yang berkarya dan beriman
Namun... kami pun tak pernah melupakan masa dulu
Yang penuh kesengsaraan

Semua... itu kami ungkapkan dalam sebuah lagu
Yang berisi tentang suka-duka yang kami lewati dulu
Semoga... cara kami ingin berbagi cerita
Akan sukses dan dapat di terima semua orang

— The End —