For Poetry Wednesday today, two poems, epigrammatic in their contrariness:
Wind of Spring
You touch the willows, and make a new green; You breathe on the peaches, and restore a pristine red; But for my fading countenance and my greying hair I dare not blame you, Oh East Wind… Ch’ên Chieh (Active 1260s AD)
The Grape No, not by ephemeral roses saddened That passing Spring will wither, kill; But rather by grapes bunched shall I be gladdened That ripen on the sloping hill, On my fair valley joy bestowing, The golden Autumn’s richest pearl, As lithely tapered, freshly glowing As fingers of a sweet young girl. Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin (1799-1837)
I still feel the tension between Northern and Southern hemispheres, and the Spring versus Autumn battle till wages deep inside me.
I have been blogging daily on this platform for several years now. It is surprising that I have persisted as the world is changing and "microblogging" is now the norm. I blog to amuse myself, make comment on current affairs, externalise some of my creativity, keep notes on things that interest me, learn something new and to surprise myself with things that I discover about this wonderful, and sometimes crazy, world we live in.
I sometimes get the impression that I am on a soapbox delivering a monologue, so your comments are welcome.