A Collection of Poems

028: Four Seasons

This poem, as I remember, is about one of my close friends who happened to be present in the turning point of my life. Well, this person has been a good friend to me, and this person, as I can see, has undergone many changes in life, but this person remains to be who this person is, and I know that this person knows me very well. What I hope is that this person would understand me and would listen to me closely, as close as possible, and without reservation. I hope that this person might be the one and only person who would understand who I am, because I trust this person so much even if I barely knew this person.

XXVIII

FOUR SEASONS

AUTUMN

Still as the winds of storms and lies

And blackened waters, stardust trails

An icy lightning in my eyes

Mirage of beauty, she prevails!

Unconscious tread through crystal wire

Uncertainty of rushing blade

And doth surpass twelve waves of fire

At sunset stopped, and there he bade

A string of pearls sustains the note

Of deaf’ning silence, chilling space

And fading so, the same old note

Into the darkness of his days

WINTER

Sealing the feet of quartered time

And closing hands to severed hold

Too much of rain, and pain, and crime

And shiver through the sharpened cold

O, fantasy, you don’t exist!

How come? A spellbound side of me

All I ask is not to resist

But there is none to feel or see

So sleep, my love! And close your eyes

And take your quilts and sheets and beds

Worry no more; they will suffice

Your hunger for such loving threads

SPRING

Need not, wake up! This is not true

I’m not insane, but neither good

To look at one, him, her, and you

Unlocks the daydreams of my mood

And I am falling, crashing hard

And lacerating very hard

And bleeding much for what is hard

And held my hand, and looked retard

So sparked a touch of smallest chance

And grew the rose of vivid red

The farmer planted, took his lance

To bud the rose of what he said

SUMMER

And gardens flowered, spring to spring

With scents of honey and aloe

And chamomile, sweet fairy wing

And lavender, vanilla blow

So searched the farmer through the field

To thank him for the buds he gave

And found, plowing another field

I smile at him, and hands he wave

Walked up to him, and thanked a lot

For planting reason in my soul

But said he that many thanks not

For planting hope is his true goal