The Street Angel

A pair of feet, born so nimble,

Whirl around like the wind.

A soft scent wafts from the hem of her clothes;

Love blossoms all over the patterns of the carpet.

(She never said that she was tired.)

She knows how to use clever words

To coax the awkward pleasure of a patron.

She knows, too, how to use her wordless glances

To coat other people’s hearts with honey.

(She never revealed her own heart.)

Red-colored and green colored wine

Pin a spring blossom on her cheeks.

The scent of flesh intoxicates more than the wines’s scent,

While her youth burns brighter than fire.

(Youth flees so fast she has no time to reflect.)

Her throat is gifted for singing,

Note after note draw an echo from your heart.

Joy, sorrow, she knows how to sing them all,

You need only name your choice.

(She never sings her own song.)

Alone she bears a night of solitude,

The lamp shines on four walls of quiet grief.

memory lights up the way from the beginning,

She heaves a deep sigh and closes her eyes.

(This moment she has only herself in the world.)

Tsang K’o-chia (1910)

As difficult as it may seem – sometimes we  need to take the time to  reflect,

reveal our own heart and sing our own song. 

Have a great week.

 

Peace,

Tenthltr2u