Swan Song

Based on a newspaper article in China.

Her hair was as black as a starling's tail,

Her cheeks as pale as a swan,

Her eyes, like two slim moonstones, glowed

And her mouth was the Holy Grail.

She'd played in the dirt of the village street

So long ago, so long...

She'd swum in the pools of the mountain stream,

But now, that girl had gone.

 

While I still rise with the early bird

To tend to my father's fields,

As the only son of an only son

I watched the woman leave.

She cried sweet tears as she said farewell

And vowed to come back, and soon,

But the village streets of a western town

Hold nothing for Ling Xiaodan.

 

The weeks went by, then the months and years

And I heard of her, near and far,

She was dressed in expensive clothes, I heard,

She was driving a shiny car;

She was seen at the Beijing Opera

By a man who worked at the door,

'She glided by like a Queen,' he said,

'As her dress trailed long on the floor.'

 

And her wai po, down in the village square

Would brag of her daughter's girl,

'She will snare some man with a million yuan,'

She said, 'not a farmer's son.

Go home to your fields and forget her now,

She's not for an also-ran!'

And laughed, as the tears sprang into my eyes

For the love of Ling Xiaodan.

 

She came back once to the village street

To her home, as ever we must,

But carefully held her dress up high

To avoid the rubbish and dust,

I stood at the side and she looked at me,

Then turned, looked quickly away,

For Ling Xiaodan and a farmer's son

Had nothing at all to say.

 

But I saw her once before she left,

Alone by the mountain stream,

Her eyes were sorrowful, in remorse,

Remembering how we'd been.

'I loved you once, as a child,' she said

'But the world is harsh, and grey...

We do what our fathers want us to,

And my father sent me away.'

 

I sat by her then, and held her hand,

Stroking her neck, and hair,

And kissed the cheek, so pale and wan,

And I cried in a deep despair..

'You must get on with your life,' she said,

'Get a wife and a baby son;

I leave tomorrow to see the man

That my father has met in town.'

 

I heard that she'd wed a businessman,

And cried in the quiet gloom,

My dream had died by the mountain stream,

On that day, in the afternoon.

She worked in a shop her husband owned,

So they said, but I never heard

'Til the body was brought back home again,

That the love of my life was dead.

 

It seemed that she'd sold her favours there

In the rear of a grimy store,

To any man with the change to spare

While her husband played Mah Jongg.

He'd gambled his fortune, and lost it all

While his wife kept the fool from jail

With what she earned with her hands and hair,

And a mouth like the Holy Grail.

 

But then, a man who was ill or mad

Put his grimy hands at her throat,

And squeezed the life from the darling neck

That I'd once both loved, and stroked.

They buried her up on the mountainside

By the stream, in sight of her home,

And from where I stand in the paddy fields

I can see her pale white stone.

 

She'd played in the dirt of the village street

So long ago, so long...

She'd swum in the pools of the mountain stream,

But now, that girl had gone.

I married a woman I barely knew

And she bore me a black-haired girl,

With eyes like two slim moonstones, and...

A mouth like the Holy Grail.

 

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[Bubo]

A beautiful tale/story (is it true).......of a once innocent child sold almost by her father.........her beauty
bringing money and leaving behind a love that was true, what a life .......to have to live with the
every day pain.......your descriptions as always haunting,

While his wife kept the fool from jail
With what she earned with her hands and hair,
And a mouth like the Holy Grail.


I am always sucked in to your words and captivated until the last line and i might be sounding
repetitive. but your words just flow so well..............are you published?

[David Scott]

I enjoy the stories with the Asian flair. You pen great tragedies well in this theme.
A treasure still was found however. So much more balance than Shakespeare's tragedies...
Anouther Asian tradition- balance.

[Constance Payne]

This brought me into it seeking for a happy ending but brought tears at the death of love. Married to one he did not know because his love told him do to just that. Wonderfully written. So many emotions in this.

[TrimarcoRansome]

Such an endearing tale, How sad life can be. I enjoyed your recorded poems so much so I hear your voice and rhythm in these penned sheets which makes them an absolute joy to read. Your words glide from the pages to narration.

[Girl Friday (Sarah W.)]

What a beautiful piece of writing... I am enthralled by the imagery, and by the use of deep metaphor that is so expertly woven throughout the piece. The innocence of youth tarnished by the rusting elements of life; what a concept to weave into a poem. I see the relevant worldly issues here, and the way that people are cast aside and not deeply looked at or appreciated in the way that they should be; true appreciation comes from the experience of really "knowing".

"A mouth like the Holy Grail" -- this line alone speaks volumes to me in terms of poetic inspiration as well as the depth of the story. Well done...so well done.

[KeelyJane]

This is so beautifully written. Reading this kind of poetry makes me question my own abilities as a writer. You transcend my standard of a poet and from that I take inspiration. Thank you for sharing.

[ayosonolowo]

Really nice


and fantastic

[Lena M. P.]

What a beautiful poignant poem. It touched my soul and nearly made me cry. We are given but one life and we flit it away on others whims. Very well written David.

[emmajoy]

David, you really are an amazing writer! You've gone through such an amazing story, great details, great use of language, emotions that reall ypull at the heartstrings.. (made me cry) , so much so this would make a fine novel.. a movie.. anything creative and beautiful. But, dear sir, it's all written within amazingly metred poetry .. not a word out of place, not a flaw! If i had a yawn of your skill, i'd feel blessed. Wonderfully graphic, wonderfully sensitive.

[roarke]

A work befitting of the beauty and dark side of China. You can take David out of China, but you can't take China out of David.... well done, very well done.

[Marie]

Sad enough to make me cry, this one is. Yet it's not an unfamiliar story...the girl taken from her childhood lover...the ending death. But you give the old tale new poignancy.