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from The Time Tree

from The Time Tree H U U T H I N H asking I ask the earth: How does earth live with earth? --We honor each other. I ask water: How does water live with water? --We fill each other up. I ask the grass: How does grass live with grass? --We weave into one another creating horizons. I ask man: How does man live with man? I ask man: How does man live with man? I ask man: How does man live with man? you Someone wishes you dead, But your breasts become more like precious jade each day. Someone wishes infirmity upon you, But your hair is black And heaven comes down to watch You wade through the mud Alone Shaking out your shirt, Returning wind to the clouds. Someone wishes you orphaned, But you sing among low-flying dragonflies. "Black clouds have gone to seal heaven's gates-- Young leaves hoping for someone's face after rain." wi nter let t er The letter I wrote you had smeared ink, But the bamboo walls are thin, and fog kept leaking through. On this cold mountain, I cannot sleep at night. By morning, a reed stalk can fade. White snow on my thin http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Manoa University of Hawai'I Press

from The Time Tree

Manoa , Volume 14 (1) – Apr 1, 2002

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Publisher
University of Hawai'I Press
Copyright
Copyright © 2002 University of Hawai'i Press.
ISSN
1527-943x
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Abstract

H U U T H I N H asking I ask the earth: How does earth live with earth? --We honor each other. I ask water: How does water live with water? --We fill each other up. I ask the grass: How does grass live with grass? --We weave into one another creating horizons. I ask man: How does man live with man? I ask man: How does man live with man? I ask man: How does man live with man? you Someone wishes you dead, But your breasts become more like precious jade each day. Someone wishes infirmity upon you, But your hair is black And heaven comes down to watch You wade through the mud Alone Shaking out your shirt, Returning wind to the clouds. Someone wishes you orphaned, But you sing among low-flying dragonflies. "Black clouds have gone to seal heaven's gates-- Young leaves hoping for someone's face after rain." wi nter let t er The letter I wrote you had smeared ink, But the bamboo walls are thin, and fog kept leaking through. On this cold mountain, I cannot sleep at night. By morning, a reed stalk can fade. White snow on my thin

Journal

ManoaUniversity of Hawai'I Press

Published: Apr 1, 2002

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