Poem
David Brooks
Su Shi
Su Shi
Su Shi
Leaving the town in the mountainsafter seven years’ exile from his native province
the old poet meets a woman one third his age,
the most beautiful he has ever seen in this place.
“Will you not write a poem about me”, she asks him,
“since you have written so many others?”
He looks at her a long time
then nods his head regretfully.
To write, he thinks to himself, or be haunted:
some questions do not have answers.
© 2006, David Brooks
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Su Shi
Leaving the town in the mountainsafter seven years’ exile from his native province
the old poet meets a woman one third his age,
the most beautiful he has ever seen in this place.
“Will you not write a poem about me”, she asks him,
“since you have written so many others?”
He looks at her a long time
then nods his head regretfully.
To write, he thinks to himself, or be haunted:
some questions do not have answers.
Su Shi
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