Dialogue with the Moon (After Li Po)

After last night’s frost,
autumn leaves die fast.
The days are brief.
The nights are long.
I drink a glass of wine
to forget the past.
I speak to the dead moon
in an uncomprehending sky.
In a freezing rain, leaves
blow over your grave.
You were forty-five,
But no one
is too young to die.

***

In the Middle of the Night (After Tu Fu)

The sky is a clock
without a face, as the day
ticks to a conclusion.
Some stars appear.
Hanging in the air
like lanterns, lighting
the way to nowhere.
The river meanders
in haphazard fashion,
without cares,
without dreams,
without passions.
An owl awakens,
leaving his tree,
searching for a victim.
For some tiny creature,
it will be the last night
of his unmemorable life.

***

October Night (After Tu Fu)

A black fog hangs
like a disease
from the frozen trees.
If I could, I would pray,
but what would I say?
The sky turns dark,
as if hiding unspeakable sins.
Leaves fall
from my sapless trees.
They shudder, dancing
to death in the night air.
A solitary raven
circles the darkening sky.
He glides with a purpose.
He doesn’t look at me.
And as winter closes in,
his thoughts are deadly.

George Freek’s poetry appears in numerous Journals and Reviews. His poem “Written At Blue Lake” was recently nominated for a Pushcart Prize. His collection Melancholia is published by Red Wolf Editions.