Farewell by Keith Douglas (1920 - 1944)

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Second world war poet and artist Keith Douglas (1920 - 1944) during his short life had several close female friends, but seemingly the great love of his life was the daughter of a former Chinese ambassador to Washington Yingcheng. It seems the deep feelings he had for this rather sophisticated very Westernised Chinese girl who he met during their time studying at Oxford university did not share his level of feeling. Douglas who apparently on the outside exuded an air of strong self confidence was it seems in reality much less self assured and sought to disguise much of his self doubt by portraying a likeable brashness. It seems that Yingcheng found his emotional dependance upon her off putting and his several proposals of marriage were refused....He affectionately wrote poems and painted several watercolour portraits for Yingcheng. In this elegantly paced poem he commemorated his doomed love affair with her..

Here is the link to the page where you can listen to this and many other classic poems set to music..

http://tinyurl.com/2o3n5

Regards..

Jim Clark
PS..Dont forget you can if you prefer listen to my sound poems at my Yahoo "sound poetry" web groups (look in "files") heres that link..
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/bloozman_u...
You can listen to this particular poem in my second yahoo "Soundpoemz" sound poetry group heres that link..
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/soundpoemz/

All rights are reserved on this sound recording/copyright/patent Jim Clark 2004

Farewell Poem

Please, on a day falling in summer,
recall how being tired, you and I
among the idle branches by the river
and blind to propriety and passers-by,
where leaves like eyes turn sidelong to the river,
half crossing us and half the vigorous sun,
till we had almost climbed enough.

Because tired, what innocents we were,
protected by sleep you see we had not thought,
like a footprint before we were aware,
that day was complete behind us and wiped out:
so now we are broken apart unaware,
and keep pain prisoner cleverly enough.

Who is it that is pleased now we are sad,
who is satisfied and thanks his stars,
has got and has the happiness we had,?
Will he enjoy long, or will the sudden alas,
and light fingered sorrow pick his heart?
Of course: soon his misery will start,
for all delight is God's impermament bluff.

In a minute he will come come from the gold cloud,
the great black figure with a hideous laugh,
and hear the comfortable cry aloud;
the ethereal veil is cracked painted stuff,
and he will be backed with fires and the red cloud.
We must never start our story again;
for God is waiting with unexpended pain
and will not bless you my dark afflicted love.

-- posted by hyperbolelad

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