Alexander Baird
Moon-Viewing And Professor Kou
Yellow, old
Oriental moon on your couch of needles,
You are not beautiful without help of pine
And tall grasses; and that you cannot be mine,
Wrinkled moon no longer intact and never unsung,
But that you seem his coeval makes him bold.
Festival moon, do you
Illuminate Professor Kou in the garden where
He muses upon Wordsworth in his own tongue,
And are you always his inexpressible, true
And national moon? Then does he share
With you the deeper truths he keeps from me?
Grey moon, discover what I may not see.
For either he is wise enough, as I am not,
To read the brush-strokes on your Chinese face —
Or simply he is still unsure of what
I know, and seeks to keep me in my place.
Page(s) 25
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