I Ask My Mother To Sing

She begins, and my grandmother joins her.
Mother and daughter sing like young girls.
If my father were alive, he would play
his accordion and sway like a boat.

I've never been in Peking, or the Summer Palace,
nor stood on the great Stone Boat to watch
the rain begin on Kuen Ming Lake, the picnickers
running away in the grass.

But I love to hear it sung;
how the waterlilies fill with rain until
they overturn, spilling water into water,
then rock back, and fill with more,

Both women have begun to cry.
But neither stops her song.

by Li-Young Lee

Comments (6)

Nicely penned poem. Thanks poet and congrats.
From her fond mother's doating eyes The radiant gem he bore; The weeping maids and village swains Beheld her charms no more. Congrats and thanks to the departed soul for the poet of the day AWARD.
Here shall the bloody contest end, Let peace o'erspread the land; More homage than the conqueror's sword CAN BEAUTY'S TEARS COMMAND! ... yes, let peace o'erspread the land; Congrarulation to her soul for the P.O.D.
Such a very nice poem.....
For shame, shake off those woman's tears, The frowning bridegroom cried, And know, SIR RAYMOND'S warlike breast Disdains a timid bride. Sheer beauty of a lyrical poem cast in the mould of a classic ballad enchants the reader. Thanks a lot.
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