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NORTH WEST WORDS<br />
SPRING / SUMMER <strong>2018</strong> ISSUE 9<br />
Lel<strong>and</strong> at Cloonagh<br />
in memoriam Lel<strong>and</strong> Bardwell, 1922-2016<br />
I<br />
I live here now, like a goddess.<br />
Whins grow wherever they want.<br />
I hang my clothes on shrubs to dry,<br />
Drink wine in the open air.<br />
A stone ramp runs into the ocean.<br />
Clothes scatter over heaps of books.<br />
I float in the sea, recite poems to the moon.<br />
The wind will waft me back to the shore.<br />
––free variation on a poem by Yu Xuanji (844–868)<br />
Sky <strong>and</strong> cloud combine,<br />
Fog <strong>and</strong> sea are one.<br />
The Milky Way spins.<br />
A thous<strong>and</strong> sails cavort.<br />
Entranced, I hear the sky<br />
ask where I’m heading.<br />
A very long way, I say,<br />
far past the sunset.<br />
I write it out in a verse<br />
that bewilders even me.<br />
The kestrel surfs a gale<br />
that will carry me<br />
past Inishmurray to<br />
Tir na nÓg.<br />
II<br />
––free variation on a poem by Li Qingzhao (1084–1155)<br />
III<br />
Anyone can comply with a rhyme scheme<br />
but I can descrie traces of flowers<br />
in the dark of the moon<br />
or brambles dangling in the morning mist.<br />
Treasure is buried deep.<br />
I am old enough now to write as I will<br />
on any kind of note paper but<br />
I will tell you how it should be done.<br />
––free variation on a poem by Xue Tao (768-831)<br />
Seán Golden<br />
52
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