As part of the La Vita e La Morte, Minh Do did some poetry reading by a buddhist from his book, Cold Mountain. Check it out here:
In the same theme, I’d just like to share a couple of poems that reminds me of Life and Death.
Sun and Shadow by Mercedes Lackey
She dances in the shadows; like a shadow is her hair.
Her eyes hold midnight captured, she is perilously fair.
While woodlarks sing the measures that her flying feet retrace,
She dances in the shadows like a dream of darkling grace.
He sings in summer sunlight to the cloudless summer skies;
His head is crowned with sunlight and the heavens match his eyes.
The wild wood seems to listen to the singer’s gladsome voice,
He sings in summer sunlight and all who hear rejoice.
One evening in the twilight that is neither day nor night,
The time part bred of shadow, and partly born of light,
A trembling Shadowdancer heard the voice of love and doom,
That sang a song of sunlight through the gathering evening gloom.
A spell it cast upon her, and she followed in its wake.
To where Sunsinger sang it, all unheeding, by her lake.
She saw the one that she must love until the day she died –
And bitter tears for bitter love the Shadowdancer cried.
She dances in the shadows, for a doom upon her lies;
If the sunlight shines upon her the Shadowdancer dies.
And upon his line is this curse laid–that once the day is sped,
In sleep like death he lies ’til once again the night has fled.
One evening in the twilight e’er his curse could work its will,
Sunsinger sang of sunlight by a lake serene and still,
When out among the shadows stepped a woman, fey and fair,
A woman sweet as twilight, with the shadows in her hair.
He saw her, and he loved her, and he knew his love was vain,
For he was born of sunlight and must be the shadow’s bane.
So e’er the curse could claim him, then, he shed one bitter tear,
To know his only love must also be his greatest fear.
So now they meet at twilight, though they only meet to part.
Sad meetings, sadder partings, and the breaking of each heart.
What blame then, if they pray for time or death to bring a cure?
For the sake of bitter loving, nonetheless, they will endure.
I feel the pain within me
but the cause I cannot see
I feel somebody pulling me out
but I am not yet ready.
My legs they are thorn
Blood is everywhere
Mommy, can’t you hear me?
The pain — I can’t bear!
My head — it hurts too much
I still want to see, to feel,
to hear, to touch!
Mommy, don’t you love me?
Am I the only one?
Hearing my own voice — my silent scream
Once the deed is done?
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