(1947-1995 / United States)

Ho Chih-Chang

When we met the first time at Ch’ang-an
He called me the ‘Lost Immortal’.
Then he loved the Way of Forgetting.
Now under the pine-trees he is dust.
His golden keepsake bought us wine.
Remembering, the tears run down my cheeks.

User Rating: 2,8 / 5 ( 46 votes ) 2

Comments (2)

Magnificent poem, mostly. I'm not sure about the second theme, the Henry Adams bit. Does it work? Possibly.
Why does it seem that the rain makes missing someone even more lonelier than when the sun is bright and shining? Love the last stanza of this poem.