How sad,
to think I will end
as only
a pale green mist
drifting the far fields.
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From guest grannyeri (contact)
Just this one thought i written so eloquently in these five lines - visual and easy to read and understand. Ejoyed this and will rea more of this poet. -
just found this poem:
When you see the smoke floating up
the valley of Toribe Hill,
Then you will understand me,
who seemed as shadow-like
even while living.
Toribe Hill was a place in Japan in which cremations were performed. The image of the shadow made me think of the "pale green mist".
This poem speaks that in life, we are a shadow of our true selves. With death comes the reflection of the departed's impact on our life. All the words, actions, are framed in our minds as memories, thus the "then you will understand me" line takes on a deeper meaning.
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moving
I enjoyed reading this, and the submission of "Stones for the Silence". Below are poems from One Hundred Poems from the Japanese by Kenneth Rexroth that I think work as response poems to "How Sad":
A cuckoo calls.
When I look there is only
The waning moon
In the early dawn --Fujiwara No Sanesada
Out in the marsh reed
A bird cries out in sorrow
As though it had recalled
Something better forgotten --Ki No Tsurayuki
In the Bay of Sumi
The waves crowd on the beach.
Even in the night
By the corridors of dreams,
I come to you secretly. --Fujiwara No Toshiyuki -
Stones for the Silence.
No wandering. No mist. No color.
Nothing left, adrift. No lingering other.
Memory. Stops. Yet we plead:
With words left like piled stones.
For rememberance. Our last need.
I was here. Where mountains stay,
Mountains never wander.
I fell. But these words stay,
Stone by stone longer.
Still, a poet must write because she breathes- quality irrelevant, audience irrelevant. Stones for the silence.
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I feel from this piece that the restlessness Ono felt in her own lifetime, she expected to continue even in her death. The phrase drifting the far fields gives rise to the continued wandering. How different this may have been if only she could have seen the success of her own poetry. Even after 1200 years she is still held in the highest regard. Not just a pale mist but the mountains on which many writers and readers would while away their time and thoughts.
Andrew
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