Each Painting, A New Realm - A Poem
- The Beverly Arts
- 5 days ago
- 2 min read
Author: Joey Zhou
The wolf-hair brush, steeped in the Duan inkstone,
It is the drifting mist and clouds;
The Hui ink, swirling and dancing freely,
It is the spring of the heart;
Unfurling, spreading wide—raw Xuan paper layered with processed Xuan.
It is as if...
White clouds dapple the azure sky,
Rouge spills suddenly upon the peony,
Pine-soot ink stains the clouds,
And the soul takes flight, spirit soaring free.
An Andante, a songless Andante
Silently awaiting the touch of longing.
The true masterpiece lies not in the artist's brush, ink, paper, or stone,
But in...
That fleeting moment
As she pauses upon the Xuan paper's clouds, her heart trembles with an enchanting yearning,
Keeping watch for a lifetime,
Each painting, a new realm.
The gentle touch of the brush tip against the stone slowly spreads its hue,
Rouge nestles against pine-soot ink,
Scenting the "Four Treasures of the Study,"
Drifting as if in an ethereal trance.
Beside the gauze-screened window,
A cup of cloudy wine savors the lingering joy,
Melting into the drunken words of a lifetime.
The soul takes flight, spirit soaring free,
An Andante, a songless Andante
Silently awaiting the touch of longing.
The true masterpiece lies not in the artist's brush, ink, paper, or stone,
But in...
That fleeting moment
As she pauses upon the Xuan paper's clouds, her heart trembles with an enchanting yearning,
Keeping watch for a lifetime,
Each painting, a new realm.
Written: June 2018 in Diamond Bar, California
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