Friday, March 5, 2010

VI. Riding the Bull



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VI.                    Riding the Bull

Mounting the bull, slowly I return homeward.

The voice of my flute intones through the evening.

Measuring with hand-beats the pulsation harmony, I direct the endless rhythm.

Whoever hears this melody will join me.

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Comment:  This struggle is over; gain and loss are assimilated.  I sing the song of the village woodsman, and play the tunes of the children.  Astride the bull, I observe the clouds above.  Onward I go, no matter who may wish to call me back.
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