There, where the creek goes blind
and darkening woods meet fields of rye
wrapped in peace, the time and all sorrows pass
strip them off, leave them on this tiny patch of grass
...
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When memories call on us, we are forced to relive the ‘times so unkind'.. life becomes a stretch of wasteland. Profound poetry
Oh yes, true, the beauty of everything around is nullified to the extent to which the memories seize capacities. thank you a lot
beautiful, and with eerie deja vu undertones of a modern-day Wang Wei.
thank you a lot dear Denis Mair, you moved me into researching Wang Wei and some fabulous Chinese poetry, modern though published far away, long time ago. His poem 'A Green Stream' instantly resonated with me. Thanks!