Classic poem of the day
When this melody for the flageolet was made by Lady Ts'ai,
When long ago one by one she sang its eighteen stanzas,
Even the Tartars were shedding tears into the border-grasses,
And the envoy of China was heart-broken, turning back home with his escort.
Cold fires now of old battles are grey on ancient forts,
And the wilderness is shadowed with white new-flying snow.
When the player first brushes the Shang string and the Chüeh and then the Yü,
Autumn-leaves ......
Member poem of the day
A Big Sleep
Feeling a pang,
God looked down at His body:
tiny creatures,
His own creations!
were carrying off bits of Him
to sequester in their burrows,
to consume,
thereby partaking of His godhood,
to exalt and worship,
to rub against their bodies,
perhaps to use in other ways.
Millions of them,
for countless mayfly generations...
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