Most Read... Rebecca WattsThe Cult of the Noble Amateur
(PN Review 239)
John McAuliffeBill Manhire in Conversation with John McAuliffe
(PN Review 259)
Eavan BolandA Lyric Voice at Bay
(PN Review 121)
Patricia CraigVal Warner: A Reminiscence
(PN Review 259)
Vahni CapildeoOn Judging Prizes, & Reading More than Six Really Good Books
(PN Review 237)
Tim Parksin conversation with Natalia Ginzburg
(PN Review 49)
Next Issue Hal Coase 'Ochre Pitch' Gregory Woods 'On Queerness' Kirsty Gunn 'On Risk! Carl Phillips' Galina Rymbu 'What I Haven't Written' translated by Sasha Dugdale Gabriel Josipovici 'No More Stories' Valerie Duff-Strautmann 'Anne Carson's Wrong Norma'
Poems Articles Interviews Reports Reviews Contributors
PN Review 275
PN Review Substack

This poem is taken from PN Review 24, Volume 8 Number 4, March - April 1982.

The Yuan Chen Variations F.T. Prince

[The Yüan Chên Variations are published in the United States by Sheep Meadow Press, New York. Notes are printed at the end of the poem.]

I

[1]

Eight times the autumn weather
has drenched with rain
those grasses that wave
green on your grave.
What friends remain
have grown old together

Three times my own old hones
have passed through illness.
My hair is white.
You, shut from light,
lie in a stillness
made of clay and stones

Do you know or not know
if one can return
to the world of men?
Did you know when
Han-lang came in turn
to the springs below?
...


Searching, please wait... animated waiting image