Agoloso Presents - Atondido Stories Agoloso Presents - Mama Mada | Page 115

Mama Mada
For one white singing hour of peace
Count many a year of strife well lost,
And for a breath of ecstasy
Give all you have been, or could be.
A Girl by Ezra Po und
The tree has entered my hands,
The sap has ascended my arms,
The tree has grown in my breast -
Downward,
The branches grow out of me, like arms.
Tree you are,
Moss you are,
You are violets with wind above them.
A child - so high - you are,
And all this is folly to the world.
To the Tune Of Thinking Of Maiden Chin
by Li Qingzhao
I ascent high on the sotried pavilion,
Below,mountains scatter in disorder;
The unclutivated plain extends
far in the light mist.
In the light mist,
Crows have returned to their mests;
The evening horm is heard in the dusk.
Burnt-out incense, left-over wine
my melancholy heart!
[The evening wind] hastens
The wu tong leaves fall.
The wu tong leaves fall,
Again the autumn becaomes beautiful,
Again the heart is lonesome.
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