Meeting Them I

A student’s poor, yet earnest, attempt at a Poem in the Epic style follows hereafter. The content by a week’s travels through China, the style by the first book of Paradise Lost – past which the author has unfortunately yet to read – inspired. Of the attempted use of the Epic style, the reader may note that as in classical epics, the story is in media res begun, with earlier events eventually over food related. The lack of rhyme in the Poem, as in Paradise lost, is no fault, rhyme, by Milton’s estimation, being naught but the ‘Invention of a barbarous Age’ and adding no true value. This attempt at a Poem to the Lady Yi-Hsin, fair beyond compare, is with remembrance of past helps proffered. Adventures and delicious food, rest assured, are to be found within. The beautiful park of Hupao, Dreaming of the Tiger Spring, through the mist of time (on the order of days) past arises before our eyes.

Hupao, beautiful gem of nature set in Hangzhou! Long praised by multitudes, longer as a sanctuary known. In the 14th year of the Yuanhe reign in the Tang Dynasty legendary Xingkong, the monk, journeyed to Hupao. No spring ran there, how could any man settle? Then came to him in a dream, and Immortal, bringing news of hope. A nearby spring would be moved, and two tigers sent to dig it out. Lo! in the morning two tigers digging raised the water. The spring gushing forth, Xingkong was content and settled in lush woods.
Renowned monks, emperors, poets parade through as ages march past, pausing to be at peace, ever after joining the choir singing Hupao's praises. Over one thousand years since the spring is dug, and still souls come to find peace.

From long travels in great cities a traveler arrives, finding peace in the midst of the woods, peace so thick she might touch it, so welcome she might embrace it.
Her body nourished with juicy baozi, gift of a grandmother.
Her soul nourished by nature. Blue sky, sun, and clouds.
Springs murmur, birds sing. Into the music of nature slides music, soft and unobtrusive. Perhaps it is a violin. It sings a Song As Old As Time. The paths slope gently upward.
Halls and Dagobas display the history of Hupao, telling stories of artists and teachers, people whose being has, 'glorified the world.'
Along a side path, hidden horses, covered not in grime but in green life.
Bi Xi, Ba Xia, Gui Fu. By whichever name they go, these sons of dragons bring luck and longevity.
Refreshed, the traveler departs. The road winds, the bush lurches, stomachs churn. The beautiful peace, though, will not so easily be shaken. The multitudinous choir singing the glories of Hupao to the ages sings on, one voice greater.