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page 116
488. Thousands of bamboo plants along a river in autumn. And nobody there among them. (None that we know of at least.) And, indeed, why should anyone be there just at the moment? No, the water is always making that cruel, disdainful, draining sound. 489. He hides among the shrubs. Yellow; red; green; black. Are birds more fortunate than this? A blade thrusting, hacking. 490. An Expository Note ‘The symbolism of this denuded plum-tree, Growing on the very rim of a cliff, beside A broken bridge, should be indisputably obvious. If not, the severed ear nearby may help to clarify matters.’ 491. A Traveller’s Inscription ‘I fear that this small bridge over an irregular inlet Links one irrelevant point with yet another irrelevant point In the time-honoured manner of the best old, rural bridges. But I’ll find the right place hereabout eventually, I suppose.’ 492. The disturbed scholar awakes from his disturbing dream. He lights his candle, and looks round hesitantly. What is the source of that slight but insistent sound? What? No! Is it really all only a wooden symbol? 
page 117
493. The Badly Received Impromptu ‘By this celebrated, remote, immensely thundering waterfall, One may, even while in the selectest company, Let rip a fart, assured that it will always go unheard. And as for the smell – well, no doubt Nature can always cover that too.’ 494. Drinking Song ‘Once, out in the far west, I saw a yak which had almost human ears. And I remembered instantly how, long ago in my Ka Lou years, I had seen a freak in a hectic street whose ears were like those of a yak.’ (Chorus.) ‘My father said he had very probably been unsuccessful in business.’ 495. And then the ancient sage rode off on the water buffalo And was never seen again. Except for the rare occasions When he was seen again. And even at those choice moments No-one quite saw him. Though they sometimes did smell the buffalo. 496. Whereat the Master rode up the sacred eastern slope On his trusty steed, and, when he had reached the top, An otherworldly being manifested itself at his side, Pushed him off, stole the beast, and wafted invisibly away. 497. After thirty-seven years of blameless living in a hut beside the town wall, One morning the virtuous old recluse is discovered to have gone missing. Likewise missing are both spinster sisters of the newly arrived Court Historian. (Who is even now ‘recalibrating’ his previous view that Coincidence Rules All.) 

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488. Thousands of bamboo plants along a river in autumn. And nobody there among them. (None that we know of at least.) And, indeed, why should anyone be there just at the moment? No, the water is always making that cruel, disdainful, draining sound.

489. He hides among the shrubs. Yellow; red; green; black. Are birds more fortunate than this? A blade thrusting, hacking.

490. An Expository Note ‘The symbolism of this denuded plum-tree, Growing on the very rim of a cliff, beside A broken bridge, should be indisputably obvious. If not, the severed ear nearby may help to clarify matters.’

491. A Traveller’s Inscription ‘I fear that this small bridge over an irregular inlet Links one irrelevant point with yet another irrelevant point In the time-honoured manner of the best old, rural bridges. But I’ll find the right place hereabout eventually, I suppose.’

492. The disturbed scholar awakes from his disturbing dream. He lights his candle, and looks round hesitantly. What is the source of that slight but insistent sound? What? No! Is it really all only a wooden symbol?



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