Posts Tagged ‘ pilgrimage ’

Spring at the Edge | Icebox

面影に花の姿をさき立てて 幾重越え来ぬ峰の白雲(俊成)
Led on and on
by the image of blossoms,
I have crossed peak beyond peak
to find nothing
but white clouds

– (Fujiwara no Shunzei)
David McCullough, translator



Source: Spring at the Edge | Icebox

Celebrating National Poetry Month ~ A Poem on Hope | Windybee’s Blog

April is National Poetry Month, and the month we celebrate Earth Day. I can’t think of a better way to celebrate and honor poets and the art of poetry, and to show respect and love for the earth, than to share the work of activist, author, lyrical poet-storyteller, and Kentucky farmer, Wendell Berry, one of the clearest voices in the art of poetry, and staunch defender of the environment, whose civic poem called A Poem on Hope, is quite appropriate for the times.

A Poem on Hope by Wendell Berry

It is hard to have hope. It is harder as you grow old,
for hope must not depend on feeling good
and there’s the dream of loneliness at absolute midnight.
You also have withdrawn belief in the present reality
of the future, which surely will surprise us,
and hope is harder when it cannot come by prediction
anymore than by wishing. But stop dithering.
The young ask the old to hope. What will you tell them?
Tell them at least what you say to yourself.

Because we have not made our lives to fit
our places, the forests are ruined, the fields, eroded,
the streams polluted, the mountains, overturned. Hope
then to belong to your place by your own knowledge
of what it is that no other place is, and by
your caring for it, as you care for no other place, this
knowledge cannot be taken from you by power or by wealth.
It will stop your ears to the powerful when they ask
for your faith, and to the wealthy when they ask for your land
and your work. Be still and listen to the voices that belong
to the stream banks and the trees and the open fields.

Find your hope, then, on the ground under your feet.
Your hope of Heaven, let it rest on the ground underfoot.
The world is no better than its places. Its places at last
are no better than their people while their people
continue in them. When the people make
dark the light within them, the world darkens.

Source: Celebrating National Poetry Month ~ A Poem on Hope | Windybee’s Blog

Calendar doesn’t say Spring, but the cold rain in the rootstocks and legions of robins, know otherwise. Brought home Jane Reichhold’s “Basho The Complete Haiku” (Kodansha:Tokyo, 2008); and, French philosopher and semiologist, Roland Barthes’s “A Lover’s Discourse, Fragments” (Hill and Wang: NY, 1977, translated from the French by Richard Howard). To set off on a pilgrimage in the dark, cold rain is near to Barthes figuration: “To try to write love is to confront the muck of language: that region of hysteria where language is both too much and too little, excessive and impoverished.” ~ Donna Fleischer