For Yeh Tz'u, a Deceased Friend
Even as you aged,
your wisdom could not stir your soul.
As I slip into senility,
my pure blue flame has turned to smoke,
and now sleep drives me mad,
an ailing, foolish, decaying old man.
I grasp my clumsy pen,
but time slips by as lightly
as sunlight on the sea...
What more do I desire?
l dress in gray,
I dream, and do not exist.
Ch'iu Ya-ts'ai, 1986
[Picture Caption]
Ch'iu Ya-ts'ai born 1949, painter, illustrator, sometime street vendor. Ch'iu Ya-ts'ai's work "Clown"
A street portrait