“Lady Nyo’s Torment, Part 2

This poem of Lady Nyo’s is the next to the last in the series. I am very grateful for all the readers and comments on these poems.  They have inspired me to collect them into a small book and each poem will have an illustration.  Thank you for your patience as I make my way around the marvelous poets I have found on d’versepoets.com.

 Many of the poems in this series are from the great 8th century Man’yoshu, or are a combination of my own poetry, mixed with the pieces from that collection.  I find the inspiration from this great historic text to be unending.  If this cycle of poems presented on this blog inspire other poets, readers to take up the Man’yoshu, that is personally gratifying.

Lady Nyo

 

“The cicada cries

Everyday at the same hour

But I’m a woman much in love and very weak

And can cry anytime”

 

The rain cleared, the sun came out

And all was polished bronze.

Leaves sparkled, the air new-washed.

Lady Nyo would visit a shrine,

Had her palm-leaf carriage

With the white ox made ready.

There on the carriage cushion

Was a bone-white fan.

“How strange. And here

In my carriage!”

 

Lady Nyo opened the fan,

Saw the character brushed

And her face went from

Pale to red–

Changing with the speed of a squid.

Oh! How elegant!

How sublime this character!

Of an excellent hand,

Surely a noble one,

Of great depth and emotion.

 

She recovered herself.

How fickle!

How shallow!

How low her nature!

To be swayed

By a stranger’s painted fan!

Where was her dignity?

–

She would end this.

She would remain

A virtuous wife,

Would not sully these long years

Of marriage with a trifler.

Let her dreams be enough passion,

Let her unbidden dreams keep her warm.

But could she live like that?

Better to be a shaved headed nun

take up the staff with iron rings–

Hold forth a begging bowl!

–

At dusk,

Lady Nyo took to her inkstone,

And in her journal

Wrote poems,

Verse she hoped would

Cleanse her soul,

Rest her mind–

Calm her heart.

“While I wait for you

With longing in my breast

Back here at home

My bamboo blinds are fluttered

By the blowing autumn breeze.”

 

“The moon has risen

To that predetermined point

And I am thinking:

The time has come to go outside

And wait for his arrival.”

 

“Even the breeze

Increases painful longing

Even the breeze

But I know that he will come

So why feel grief in waiting?”

–

The autumn air floated

Down from nearby Moon Mountain,

A holy place where no woman

Could tread the path.

The darkening dusk

Fused the color of leaves, pines

And a Corn Moon mounted the sky.

–

Lady Nyo knelt on the veranda

A paper lantern behind her–

Monstrous shadows in the night-gloom.

She would wait for her husband

She would wait until the chilled winds

Of dawn blew down from Moon Mountain

And brought with them–

Him.

“From the high mountain

The sound of a crying stag

Carries down valleys

How inspiring is his voice

Like yours, my loving lord.”

 

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2011

‘Lady Nyo’s Torment’

A continuation in the series of Lord and Lady Nyo.

The poems used are a combination from the Man’yoshu and my own.

 

Lady Nyo’s Torment

 

 “I stay here waiting for him

In the autumn wind, my sash untied,

Wondering, is he coming now,

Is he coming now?

And the moon is low in the sky.

The only company I have tonight,

Now near dawn, is the paling Milky Way,

And Oh, my husband!

There are not stars enough in the heavens

To equal my sorrowful tears.”

 

Hana Nyo pulled her quilted robe from her head.

It was just a dream, just a dream. 

Then why does my heart pound so?

–

Two nights before

Lady Nyo and her nurse

Spent the hours til dawn

Watching the flame rise and fall

Through the shoji of Lord Nyo’s room,

Watched the candle

Consume the poems he was writing to whom?

–

“Ah, he has another woman!”

Her nurse was loyal but leaned

On the privilege of time.

–

Lady Nyo’s heart took flight.

Fear and shame dueled

In her blood, pushing reason

From her head.

Did he know?

Did he know?

Did he know about the poems?

Did he know of the vanished lover?

–

For two days it rained.

November rains poured like

Waterfalls off  eaves,

Broke  stems of the chrysanthemums,

Scattered  flower heads,

Blew great gusts of wet wind into her room,

Blanketing an already sorrowful mind

With a seasonal fury.

–

Lord Nyo had ridden out

The dawn after

The Night of Burning Poems,

Dressed for hunting,

His falcon on his glove,

Not a word of farewell,

Not a baleful glance in her direction.

–

She watched him mount his horse,

And gallop away.

She watched from the slits of bamboo blinds,

Like a thief or a beggar,

She didn’t know what she was,

Only felt the sharp sting of shame,

A particular loss of something she probably

Never had.

–

Lady Nyo spent the day reading,

Her misery reflected in an unpainted face,

Tangled hair,

Shunning food as sacrifice.

The pain of her torment

Was not lessened.

–

“Once I did believe

That no love could still linger

Within my heart

Yet, a love springs from somewhere

And forces itself on me.”

And:

“My eyes have seen you

But I’ve yet to hold you close

You’re like a laurel

That is growing on the moon

And I don’t know what to do.”

 

Yes, and I don’t know what to do.

–

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2011