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Dr. Bob is Robert Hsiung, MD,
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Posted by malthus on September 21, 2004, at 21:36:39
In the lute I am note,
perfume in the violet,
fleeting passion in tombs
and in the ruins ivy.I laugh on the hills
whisper in the tall grass,
sigh in the clear ripple
and cry in the dry leaf.There is in me a spirit, like in the flowers
of a million perfumes, sweet vapors,
and its intriguing fragrance,
drives the soul that adores it crazy.Spirit without name,
indefinable essence,
I live a life
with no form of idea.
Posted by Atticus on September 22, 2004, at 10:25:41
In reply to poem...No form of idea, posted by malthus on September 21, 2004, at 21:36:39
Hi Malthus,
I think this is your most beautiful poem yet. I'm especially taken with the soft susurrant rhythm and evocative images in the first two stanzas. I think, in the end, that the sense we move through lives "with no form of idea" may well be a near-universal part of the human condition. The note on the lute does not produce itself, and despite its beauty, cannot divine the meaning behind its ethereal creation. Nor can the irresistible fragrance of violets understand its purpose. For me, this piece captures the mystery that underlies every moment of our lives, as we play roles that seem unfathomable yet have a definite impact, have some undefinable importance. I like the fact that you use such transitory creations as a sound or a scent or ivy that will inevitably wither to express how little time we have to ponder the meaning behind our passage, the idea that launched us on our brief sojourn through our lives. ;) Atticus
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