Seven in the Bamboo
I’m worried I’m not political enough
In the morning I wake and put on my clothes
and shoes and a cap. I walk to the water’s edge
past dogs, people, bicycles and boats.
The sun rises on the horizon and I sit and face
the water and think and watch the clouds and the trees.
I don’t read a newspaper or buy a coffee at the café.
I go home and take a hot shower and sit with my cats.
I read a book, maybe two, write some poems perhaps.
I listen to music: the radio, sometimes, or an old song
from my collection. I stretch and lie down in the grass.
I eat something: fruit, cheese, a bowl of soup. On good days
there is chocolate. There is always a cup of tea. I don’t think
about pain, or loss, or the past, although they are there.
I don’t think about refugees or dead babies or chemical
warfare or Iraq or Israel. I worry I live under a rock
even as my mind winds up the wooded paths and streams
of third-century China. I imagine I am packing a frame-
and-cloth bag full of books and two changes of clothes
for a long journey into the mountains. Seven of us meet
in a bamboo grove. Two of us make love in the moonlight
after we are all drunk from pots of rice wine. Someone watches
us, but we don’t care. We forget about society, about politics,
about government. We sow, we grow, we reap. We dream, we read,
we write, we paint. The notes of the zither shiver in the night air.
翻译: (Translated by Jill Chang Chien, Steven Langsford and Annie Drahos)
- Epigraph is from Raquel Ormella’s series of textile banners made between 1999 and 2009, held in the collection of the Art Gallery of New South Wales, Sydney, Australia. ↩