A EULOGY FOR LI-PO

A EULOGY FOR LI-PO

"Why is the sea king of a hundred streams?
Because it lies below them.
Therefore it is the king of a hundred streams."
LAO TZU, TAO TE CHING

What's left of those long, honoured lines,
those proud, most powerful potentates
of ancient days?
Those ruthless rulers of the flower realm?

Time's swept their fame and might aside,
like lost leaves in dry, autumn wind.

Where are the gleaming courts,
the glittering displays,
the chambers of the slender concubines,
the shining weapons of the warriors,
the scrolls of ever-honoured names?

Dust of the dust of the driest of plains.

And we, whose childhood's history
is from the farthest reaches
of your most distant skyline's
dusk-golden vanishing of sun,
don't even know those rulers' names;
we cannot speak the singing signs.
I first came on the might of dynasties,
as footnotes to the poets.

And since the great march of the peasants,
even the proud, jade emperor of heaven
is cloud-bound, whereabouts unknown.

But you, illustrious Li-Po,
your spirit's working lives on, for
your quiet thoughts at night,
your silent, lunar light,
your cloudy mountain paths,
far waterfalls and swirling mists
and journeys of the secret soul
in far, far, upward flight,
are supple with humanity,
and sing in universal keys,
through carefully translating art,
within the hearing of the heart.

No petty emperor could claim
such a travelled, shining fame.

Thus from another land,
another time,
I raise salute
across the distances of seas and centuries.

Li-Po, you were right to call
the ones above your kin,
immortal of heaven as maker of song,
your body like enchanted breath-

still shimmering.