Li Bai and the reflected moon
Facing my wine, I did not see the dusk,
Falling blossoms have filled the folds of my clothes.
Drunk, I rise and approach the moon in the stream,
Birds are far off, people too are few.
—Amusing myself: Li Bai
Li Bai, the Immortal Exiled from Heaven,
Or, the Transcendent dismissed from the Heaven,
Celebrated life through his simple verses,
Ezra Pound’s verbal delight,
He found joy in the seasons and wine, this- worldly pleasures,
Adopted many personas,
But loved the Moon,
His inspiration in the sky,
One night, as the gods willed it,
The inebriated wanderer, a wordsmith supreme,
Travelling in a boat on the Yangtze River,
Saw the reflected moon in the waters of the
Ancient natural provider of nourishment to the Chinese,
And felt tempted to embrace his reflected Muse there,
On that quiet night, amid silent nature and trees,
So chalk- white and beautiful, like an oval shy maid,
Looking coy at her master from her downcast eyes,
Irresistible invite from the heavenly queen for an earthly fan,
Both the symbol and its user were locked in for an instant,
In the reality of the flowing river, and the image
Got fractured into bits that were scattered by the
Strong warm currents down the path of the zigzagging river,
Li Bai tried desperately to cling to the broken bits
Of the dispersed Moon on the broad bosom of the Yangtze,
And unable to embrace the reflection of his fav Moon,
His constant energy and inspiration in his long wanderings,
Let go of the bits, this wonderful poet, in his stupor,
And downed with the sad realization that
Moon was dead and beyond his reach,
So, Li Bai had no reason to live, because,
A prolific poet is also dead, sans his faithful Muse.
Destiny Poets
Uniting and celebrating the best "Writers" and "Poetry" from around the world centred out of Destiny Church Wakefield
To proffer superlatives such as , magesterial or masterly would be merely to underscore somewhat inadequately the scope and ambition of this poem. One reading ,even two are simply not enough.