PAIK ASSOCIATES architecture
. Taeho Paik . POEMS .

The Beauty of it All


Conditions of life being what it is
Ignorant bliss too well unknown 
Yet squirming the fingers freeze
In a gutful of nerves and uncertainties

I fear some airy fairy talking
In a reverent tone about leaves falling
Is necessarily something you will hear
Sooner or later in times to come.

In a moonlit scene in autumn
Or an April in Paris
Or even in the cornfields of Kentucky
Why is the moon so blue?

Everywhere else it is sort of
A light yellow with an acne problem
Like the clock faces of the Gare d'Orsay
Glaring down on the true and the false.

It shines on the losing types
Who feel sorry all the time
Just for having been born into this thing
Without choice of parents or nationhood.

Whereby to claim the right to pursue
Dreams of our own making
Songs of our own singing
And poems meant only for the poet.

Assumptions about our rights?
We cannot rest even for a second
To ponder on the length and breadth
In a the world so full of action.

Carry the dust to the windy shore
And mix it with the salt and the sand.
Then take a boat to the wide open sea
And listen to the sound of Duke Ellington.



Bevagna, 8 3 2017

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