Monday, January 30, 2012

From Blossoms

From blossoms comes
this brown paper bag of peaches
we bought from the boy
at the bend in the road where we turned toward
signs painted Peaches.

From laden boughs, from hands,
from sweet fellowship in the bins,
comes nectar at the roadside, succulent
peaches we devour, dusty skin and all,
comes the familiar dust of summer, dust we eat.

O, to take what we love inside,
to carry within us an orchard, to eat
not only the skin, but the shade,
not only the sugar, but the days, to hold
the fruit in our hands, adore it, then bite into
the round jubilance of peach.

There are days we live
as if death were nowhere
in the background; from joy
to joy to joy, from wing to wing,
from blossom to blossom to
impossible blossom, to sweet impossible blossom.

Li-Young Lee


Anonymous Nashi said...


- nashi

6:37 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Quang Tri City
by Tran Dang Khoa

I returned to the old city,
to where the silver flood waters once overflowed
to memories of an afternoon far past, to our native town, yours and mine.

That beautiful day still alive in my mind: you and your white hat, the afternoon light in the small street, your purple dress, your long hair fluttering in the wind,
and the church bells sounding a thousand times.

Old city destroyed in the war.
I ache for your every small street,
ache as if my blood ran through those flamboyant flowers,
part of me falling away with each lost petal.

But in my dreams the city was untouched,
the streets were alive, rippling like waves.
Your smile was a rose just blossoming;
your eyes burned like stars through my heart.

How I miss those flowing waters,
a past that can never return,
your look in the weak winter light,
the long reeds leaning on the far side of the river.

How memory and longing fill my heart;
how the old city fills my mind;
how my love for you has remained with the years,
and my hair grown grey like the tall reed flowers.

(Translated by Ngo Vinh Hai)

3:20 PM  

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