Image: Unsplash, downloaded (https://unsplash.com/photos/eodA_8CTOFo) 14.08.2022.
AUTUMN AFTERNOON (After Tu Fu)
Those distant clouds
will soon be overhead,
bringing cold rain or snow.
The flowers are dead.
I watch the squirrels
gather food for winter.
Do they know life is short?
Do they stare at the stars
and think of eternity?
As nature grows harsher,
they scamper frantically.
As they gather their nuts,
I envy their frenzy.
They can’t stop to
worry or repine.
The pointless worry is mine.
THOUGHTS ALONG THE SHORE (After Chu Hsi)
A breeze rustles the leaves
at the edge of the bay.
On the lake a loon calls,
from very far away.
The lake is now a calm desert,
but tonight a strong wind
will blow. Waves will beat
like furious fists against
the rocks. I feel this anger
is more real than the calm.
It’s also nature’s realm.
My friend says we must
look for the good.
Forgive me, my friend.
I watch a worm,
stranded in the grass,
struggling in agony,
to simply reach
its predetermined end.
I leave it alone,
and slowly walk home.
ON THE BANKS OF THE BLUE RIVER (After Mei Yao Chen)
A goose floats on the river,
so near I could touch him.
In an ugly mood, he honks at me.
On this wind-blown day,
leaves fall, denuding the trees.
I can’t see that wind,
but I feel its chilling breeze.
We only know what
we can see. But who sees
the atoms in a cup of tea?
Life is an unknown quantity.
Fat clouds drift insouciantly,
then disappear. The river
wanders ambiguously,
until it’s finally swallowed
by the distant sea. I gaze
at it with querulous eyes,
And see confusion,
but that is only me.
and I’m just a momentary illusion.
About the Author: George Freek's poetry appears in numerous Journals and Reviews. His poem " Written At Blue Lake" was recently nominated for a Pushcart Prize. His collection "Melancholia" is published by Red Wolf Editions.
