top of page

Found & Lost
 


Source poem:
 

Li Shangyin,

Untitled

​

I thought the hardest thing to do would be to find a match like you,

But parting’s even harder. 
The failing eastern wind can’t save the flowers of the spring

When summer days grow shorter.


After a candle wick is ash, the wax still drips in tears
Our fling was just a month but the ember burns for years.      
We started with a fire, then we ended with a flash
Oh how I wish  my heart was stronger.


The mirror mist you wipe away
As you inspect for strands of gray
Do you see reflections of the days you spent with me

How I wish that time was longer.  


I thought the hardest thing to do would be to find a match like you, but losing you was harder.
A colorful bouquet will always dry and fade away
But memories stretch farther

 

Fireflies will flash until the summer heat is past
The silver frame will tarnish on your fine looking glass
We could have been two better halves, I only wish I’d asked

Now I wish our bond was stronger.


Beyond the clouds, the bluebird sings
It lifts my blues, at least in dreams
Tell me where to fly and I’ll pull on my fastest shoes

 Found and lost, don’t be lost to me forever


We’re found and lost, so let’s be found again together!

lyrcs

Here is the untitled Li Shanyin poem that inspires my song:

It is not easy to meet and not easy to part
the east wind can’t keep flowers from fading

silkworms spin silk until they die in spring
candles drip tears until their wicks turn to ash
before her sunlit mirror she mourns her graying temples reciting poems at night she feels the moonlight’s chill

the peaks of Penglai aren’t so far from here
bluebird I beg you help me reach her.


Translation by Bill Porter/Red Pine.  Bill Porter/Red Pine, Finding Them Gone: Visiting China’s Poets of the Past (Port Townsend: Copper Canyon Press, 2016)  86.


In Chinese folklore, Penglai is  a mythical island of bliss. 


We can relate this poem to a short, intense, romance in young Li’s life. At age fifteen, Li traveled with his uncle to Yuyanshan mountain to meditate on the Tao.
 

One day, he met a young woman who was doing the same.  She was the handmaiden of one of the emperor’s daughters.  They fell in love, and they were together long enough for her to get pregnant – but not long enough to make plans.  She returned to the palace and Li returned home to his studies.   Thus [in the poem], he called on the bluebird messenger of Toaism’s Queen Mother of the West to convey his feelings to his far-off lover.


Bill Porter, op cit., at 87.   


Apparently, Li never saw his lover again after their ‘meditation vacation’ fling.  I hope that he found a way to send her the poem.

 
My song: I have in mind the country music scene in Bakersfield, California in the early ‘60s.  A hint of Buck Owens, twangy Telecaster guitar, and songs like “Under Your Spell Again” and “Love’s Gonna Live Here.”

Poem
bottom of page