World Literature readings (poetry)

KASHMIRI SONG by Juma You never loved me, and yet to save me, One unforgetable night you gave me Such chill embraces as the snow-covered heights Receive from clouds, in northern, Auroral nights. Such keen communion as the frozen mere Has with immaculate moonlight, cold and clear. And all desire, Life failing fire, Died slowly, faded surely, and sank to rest Against the delicate chillness of your breast. (translated into English by Laurence Hope, 18651904) *** SUTTEE by Sarojini Naidu (1879-1949) Lamp of my life, the lips of Death Hath blown thee out with their sudden breath; Naught shall revive thy vanished spark... Love, must I dwell in the living dark? Tree of my life, Death's cruel foot Hath crushed thee down to thy hidden root; Nought shall restore thy glory fled... Shall the blossom live when the tree is dead? Life of my life, Death's bitter sword Hath severed us like a broken word, Rent us in twain who are but one Shall the flesh survive when the soul is gone? *** LI FU-JEN by Wu-ti (157-87 B.C.) The sound of her silk skirt has stopped. On the marble pavement dust grows. Her empty room is cold and still. Fallen leaves are piled against the doors. Longing for that lovely lady How can I bring my aching heart to rest? (Li Fu-jen was written by Wu-ti, sixth emperor of the Han dynasty, when his mistress, Li Fu-jen died. Unable to bear his grief, he sent for wizards from all parts of China, hoping that they would be able to put him into communication with her spirit. This English translation by Arthur Waley is reprinted from One Hundred and Seventy Chinese Poems.) *** LAMENT OF HSI-CHN by Hsi-chn My people have married me In a far corner of Earth: Sent me away to a strange land,

To the king of the Wu-sun. A tent is my house, Of felt are my walls; Raw flesh my food With mare's milk to drink. Always thinking of my own country, My heart sad within. Would I were a yellow stork And could fly to my old home! (About the year 110 B.C. a Chinese Princess named Hsi-chn was sent, for political reasons, to be the wife of a central Asian nomad king, K'un Mo, king of the Wu-sun. When she got there, she found her husband old and decrepit. He only saw her once or twice a year, when they drank a cup of wine together. They could not converse, as they had no language in common. English translation by Arthur Waley) *** Basho, Matsuo (1644-1694). The name Basho (banana tree) is a sobriquet he adopted around 1681 after moving into a hut with a banana tree alongside. He was called Kinsaku in childhood and Matsuo Munefusa in his later days. Basho's father was a low-ranking samurai from the Iga Province. To be a samurai, Basho serviced for the local lord Todo Yoshitada (Sengin). Since Yoshitada was fond of writing haikai, Basho began writing poetry under the name Sobo. During the years, Basho made many travels through Japan. On his last trip, he died in Osaka, and his last haiku indicates that he was still thinking of traveling and writing poetry as he lay dying: Fallen sick on a journey, In dreams I run wildly Over a withered moor. At the time of his death, Basho had more than 2,000 students. Haikus: An old pond! A frog jumps in The sound of water. The first soft snow! Enough to bend the leaves Of the jonquil low. Povertys child he starts to grind the rice, and gazes at the moon. No blossoms and no moon, and he is drinking sake all alone! Wont you come and see loneliness? Just one leaf from the kiri tree. Temple bells die out.

The fragrant blossoms remain. A perfect evening!