A Feast of Lanterns, by L. Cranmer-Byng, [1916], at sacred-texts.com
A Feast of Lanterns, by L. Cranmer-Byng, [1916], at sacred-texts.com
Once more Heaven bids the plough-star drive
before the spring, and turn its handle to the east,
Spring—the blue harmonies of tumultuous waters!
The fair fragrance of orchid sprays.
Climb and look out and beyond. At once the eye
retains the whole immeasurable expanse of
the sea, and the slenderest film of the clouds.
The soul streams out in ecstasy.
Tears! my tears are falling.
Of the gentle pure breeze I sing—of the waves
of Chang-lang are my songs
Of lake Duntkhin are my dreams, and my sighs
for the river-lands of Oyas and Oyan.
What a lightness of health is in my soul! One
with the spring-wafting of the wind, it soars
away and flies I know not where. Yes! it
soars, but whither I know not. And my
thoughts are boundless.
I am whelmed in a dream of this fairest of seasons,
in a mood that dispels not.
The whole plain heaves into bloom—what flowers!
what sceneries!
Ah! fragrance of sweet herbs, my love and grief
are for you.
Sorrow, a sharp-edged knife, is sheathed in my
heart,
For these are the last of spring—the ending of
spring's last days.
Sadness of heart takes hold of me, and no light
weariness.
Away my thoughts! By the winding Khang, by
the roaring rapids of Syan my plunging
hands are hidden with fairy flowers—and
still my thoughts have mastered me…
Each year this picture is the same. Spring comes
—the flowers bloom. But lo, there is an
end of them—and change comes over spring.
Swiftly, swiftly the long river speeds away its
waters.
I follow with my gaze the flowing waves and in
thought
I pass with them to the east, to the very sea.
Alas! ’tis even so with spring—it stays not with
us once its time has come.
Soon, too soon will Destiny send forth the breath
of tottering age.
Ah! that I cannot fling a long, long rope over the
blue sky and bind with it the white orb of
light as it rushes on to its setting!