How Like October and Its Copper Hills
( after Jean Follain )
Deep and beautiful are the shades of October,
the wind through its copper hills,
whereby a philosopher tastes the wine –
which he pronounces Eve,
and translated into Chinese, the equivalent of sweet
reprieve.
And regret is that time, different in different pockets
of life
that is, is all
there is, and is its own infinity
as a mother and daughter lie side by side,
and talk softly of dreams shared.
Climbs he the philosopher up the crimson October hills,
thinking
already of the frigid month of February that
surely comes before June, but
after the dreary hours, there will be a verdant spring.
Grasshoppers and the woman he loves
will dance lively in the grass.
Life will flare again around him as a van Gogh spring,
while the twigs snap under the feet of the hunters,
enclosed in the world’s inadvertent sounds.
enclosed in the world’s inadvertent sounds.
The threat of war is fading and soft as a whisper,
red cheeks and peace returns to these copper hills.
The warm continental air sweeps no country in
particular, but they all keep company harmonious as
bread and cheese, shared in good company,
with a toast of a light,
pink wine.
Koon Woon 2013
Koon Woon 2013
Koon reading his poem "Coming are the days..."
on Youtube
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