I used to stay up late reading poetry with my dad. We’d sit discussing poetry till 2am, re-reading and working out what was meant by this or that image. We’d skim through everything from Brecht to Bronte.
This was one of the poems I remember. For some reason there was something in the visual language of Chinese verse that appealed to us at that late hour. Maybe the simplicity is universal, and maybe that universality just is not so simple.
Either way the qualms and regrets are common to life and were feelings we could, in our own way identify with, a nod of acknowledgement between us and a mutual appreciation that with age does come some sadness. Who hasn’t failed to realize the role they’ve played in someone’s life sometime? But the poem is wonderful, poignant and in its universality who can’t in some way identify with the writer or the subject?
‘But here is what is also so wonderful about the poem. It captivates an essence of all our lives and yet it was written not just in another place but at a time as distant from our own as we might imagine. yet the spirit and the sentiment, the love and the feeling felt in the poem come through with as much truth as they can bear.
Who lives to fear this kind of regret, who lives this sadness every day? Who, in love with someone else is not conscious of their own selfishness, and then the moment comes that is too late, the unstoppable consequence of reflection upon us all.
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Tags: Family, Fear, History, Life, Living, Love, musings, People, poem, Poetry, sketches, story, time
With in the tragedy of this poem i feel that there is beauty, for sometimes we have to see the dark to feel the light. In all its sorrow, I see hope, I see a lesson learnt. A life of regret means nothing but a life that is realised and lessons learnt is so very powerful. Sometimes we hurt those we love the most.
Thanks you Alex………………..for opening my eyesx
Thank You for sharing this poem! I read it so many times and every single time it has struck the cords of my soul in such a powerful way… deep simple verses and clear images…
He sees her worried brow every night, timeless statement, so true and so real, so tender and sad…
Time! A strong and “tricky” component in grief.
I always felt that time is not a part of the healing process as people often say: “Time will help you” “Time will ease the pain” …
Time cannot help in desperate hits of rage caused by the impossible acceptance of loosing Somebody, time cannot help us when our chest feels like a caged space of painful needles stuck there, reminding us every second that we are missing a voice, a touch, a look, an embrace! Time does not help when you realize what you are missing and that you cannot do anything or say anymore because… it is too late!Thank you for such a heartfelt and considered comment. It was the same line that evoked the same feeling in me and for that reason I had felt the power of the poem. There is something inexplicable about the clear, concise and unambiguous reality of a line like that, not to mention the significance it seems to across each of our experiences of death. It is the same line that reminds me of the death of the people I have known and the things I didn’t say, the things I ignored as I carried on preoccupied in the one dimension that suited e at the time, as in many respects it probably still suits me today.
Thank you again for your interesting and thoughtful remark. I hope to hear from you again.
The poor man never thought ahead to make arrangements to meet her in the after life. He regrets his not having thought ahead, he regrets the life of two people who lived life poor, and for this is a certain level of appreciation.
Sadly, so many people fear they are in a relationship with someone through the poor years, and they divorce or die in the rich years missing what they believe to be the best years. In this poem, he recognizes her for missing what he now has. With her death he appreciates her for the sacrifice she made during the living, and dieing before he was successful, the very complex trouble of her brow. Now that he can give to her, she is gone.
I have one love in life and I have already made plans to see her in the afterlife. The street, the painting, the exact place in the world. I close my eyes, I see this painting and I will be there when I die. We remind each other on occassion, no matter the regrets in this life, we always have our place together in the afterlife.
The poor man never thought ahead to make arrangements to meet her in the after life. He regrets his not having thought ahead, he regrets the life of two people who lived life poor, and for this is a certain level of appreciation.
Sadly, so many people fear they are in a relationship with someone through the poor years, and they divorce or die in the rich years missing what they believe to be the best years. In this poem, he recognizes her for missing what he now has. With her death he appreciates her for the sacrifice she made during the living, and dieing before he was successful, the very complex trouble of her brow. Now that he can give to her, she is gone.
I have one love in life and I have already made plans to see her in the afterlife. The street, the painting, the exact place in the world. I close my eyes, I see this painting and I will be there when I die. We remind each other on occassion, no matter the regrets in this life, we always have our place together in the afterlife.
Nice thoughts, to find happiness in this life with the love you have. I think that in this poem he somehow forgot the blessings that love can bring to us in this life. But then how many of us take that path these days. I know I am guilty of it myself, irrespective of having money or not. Maybe that is it, to find the blessings on the brow of the person you love and to suffer together, whatever life will throw at you. In the poem itslef he mentions what they would do together and then seems to take the simple pleasure for granted.
Keep up the comments. I hope to hear from you again.
Thanks for sharing this poem. The sentiment comes through with slightly more truth than I can bear, so sad, so honest. It’s the detail that’s the killer – charming off her gold hairpins to buy wine.
It is sad, yes, that was exactly what my Dad pointed out. Reading Chinese verse one of the things that struck me (and i haven’t read much) was the descriptive force, the use of real world examples to illustrate a fact of life. Thank you for the comment. I always have appreciated poems like this one, with no pretence toward intellectualism or surrealism, the force of the poignancy is in something that we can all understand, for me when that can be achieved clearly the emotional power is just too real. I still feel sad reading it and I’ve re-read this poem several times. I feel for the woman in the poem and she is dead. As for the poet, well it’s hard not to feel for him too, coming to terms with his own frailty and humanity, especially when he says that he sees her worried brow every night.
Hope to see you again on this blog sometime. Thank you again for your comment.
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