Saturday, May 16, 2009

Shakespeare's Sonnet No. 60

Like as the waves make toward the pebbled shore,
So do our minutes hasten to their end;
Each changing place with that which goes before,
In sequent toil all forwards do contend.
Nativity, once in the main of light,
Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crowned,
Crooked eclipses against his glory fight,
And time that gave doth now his gift confound.
Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth
And delves the parallels in beauty's brow,
Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth,
And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow:
And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand,
Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand.

1 comment:

  1. To Kuo Mo-Jo

    On our small planet
    a few house-flies bang on the walls.
    They buzz, moan, moon,
    and ants climb the locust tree
    and brag about their vast dominion.

    It is easy for a flea to say
    it topples a huge tree.
    In Changan leaves spill in the west wind,
    the arrowhead groans in the air.

    We had much to do and quickly.
    The sky-earth spins
    and time is short.
    Ten thousand years is long
    and so a morning and an evening count.

    The four oceans boil
    and the clouds fume with rain,
    The five continents shake
    in the wind of lightning.

    We wash away insects
    and are strong.

    -Mao Zedong-