Goblins and Pagodas Part 5
SECTION II
SYMPHONIES
BLUE SYMPHONY
I
The darkness rolls upward.
The thick darkness carries with it Rain and a ravel of cloud.
The sun comes forth upon earth.
Palely the dawn Leaves me facing timidly Old gardens sunken: And in the gardens is water.
Sombre wreck--autumnal leaves; Shadowy roofs In the blue mist, And a willow-branch that is broken.
Oh, old paG.o.das of my soul, how you glittered across green trees!
Blue and cool: Blue, tremulously, Blow faint puffs of smoke Across sombre pools.
The damp green smell of rotted wood; And a heron that cries from out the water.
II
Through the upland meadows I go alone.
For I dreamed of someone last night Who is waiting for me.
Flower and blossom, tell me, do you know of her?
Have the rocks hidden her voice?
They are very blue and still.
Long upward road that is leading me, Light hearted I quit you, For the long loose ripples of the meadow-gra.s.s Invite me to dance upon them.
Quivering gra.s.s Daintily poised For her foots tripping.
Oh, blown clouds, could I only race up like you, Oh, the last slopes that are sun-drenched and steep!
Look, the sky!
Across black valleys Rise blue-white aloft Jagged unwrinkled mountains, ranges of death.
Solitude. Silence.
III
One chuckles by the brook for me: One rages under the stone.
One makes a spout of his mouth One whispers--one is gone.
One over there on the water Spreads cold ripples For me Enticingly.
The vast dark trees Flow like blue veils Of tears Into the water.
Sour sprites, Moaning and chuckling, What have you hidden from me?
"In the palace of the blue stone she lies forever Bound hand and foot."
Was it the wind That rattled the reeds together?
Dry reeds, A faint shiver in the gra.s.ses.
IV
On the left hand there is a temple: And a palace on the right-hand side.
Foot pa.s.sengers in scarlet Pa.s.s over the glittering tide.
Under the bridge The old river flows Low and monotonous Day after day.
I have heard and have seen All the news that has been: Autumns gold and Springs green!
Now in my palace I see foot pa.s.sengers Crossing the river: Pilgrims of autumn In the afternoons.
Lotus pools: Petals in the water.
These are my dreams.
For me silks are outspread.
I take my ease, unthinking.
V
And now the lowest pine-branch Is drawn across the disk of the sun.