[Five Aestheticist Poem Groups, Part II]

"Revelation"

To the butterfly sipping rosewater,
the heavy, transparent,
beautiful voice of the Kalavinka
tells it to die, to live,
sings for it to live, to die.
The butterfly, straining its ears,
sips up the rosewater,
and thus it grows sweeter.

"True Image"

The inability to find a way
to reclaim my true image, which seems like that of a boy.

In the green of young leaves,
and in the vivid blue of the high sky,
I search for the colors of paint
worthy of my true image.

"The Rose Bows Its Head"

What do your black eyes see?
Are you sad?
The rose bows its head.
Even the tears in your black eyes
have now dried up.

Blue feathers,
nights of stardust,
a girl knight running across the hills.

All these things I wish to sing of
are the roses that did not bow their heads.

What do your black eyes search for?
Are you sad?
Now,
I, too, bow my head.

"Cherry Blossoms"

The unexpected redness of young cherry blossoms,
the intensity of a womanish man's grudge.

What I cannot forget
is the season of cherry blossoms.

"Passenger"

The train headed toward the whitened sea,
tilted slightly,
as if tilting its head,
sliding along.
Outside the train window, there was nothing but
the surface of the sea,
as if veiled in gauze.

The seats were hard
and smelled of velvet.
I am thinking
of the little bird
sleeping in a coffin
small enough to fit in the palm of my hand.
Why must
gentle things die?

Because the train runs in silence
toward the whitening sea
as if melting
it leans as it runs
and that is
very fitting

#Aestheticism
#AestheticPoetry
#VictoryOfTheGraceful
#LifeIsFineAsLongAsItIsAesthetic