Sunday, February 9, 2014

The Colt in 2014 by Mina


I usually write a poem as my song, and I have a kind of Christian Gnosticism unconsciously from the youth. In this blue colt year, I am happy to respond to the Divine Masculine's sacrifice.

I may respond to Yeats's song, too:



The fascination of what's difficult

Has dried the sap out of my veins, and rent

Spontaneous joy and natural content

Out of my heart. There's something ails our colt

That must, as if it had not holy blood

Nor on Olympus leaped from cloud to cloud,

Shiver under the lash, strain, sweat and jolt

As though it dragged road metal. My curse on plays

That have to be set up in fifty ways,

On the day's war with every knave and dolt,

Theatre business, management of men.

I swear before the dawn comes round again

I'll find the stable and pull out the bolt.

(The fascination of what's difficult by W.B. Yeats  )





I know what Jesus' sufferings is as the New Adam.

And now I would like to respond the song for the New Age:



***


A Dream of  Nail



                       Cho Mina




From the beginning

I was born as a colt in the rock cave.

I have shouldered the bondage of Heaven

Like a stigmata.

And a void suffering with a gag bit,

I have a thorn crown as a quenching.





Between Heaven and the earth

You would be a intercessor with pain

To burn out all absurd in the world.

Bang, bang, bang . . .

I look up thou nailed on the cross.

Every day I am an unknown shadow

To hammering my heart by myself

I am awakened as your nail.





Although it would be burnt out far away

That even the rest shadow of my old dignity

Flying up the Heaven

To follow thy sores of the whipping marks.

I would like to shake up all the empty compliments

And the fame in the world

Into the dusty field of the secular markets.



Although my love toward thou

Who would be burnt up into being hot fire pole

And at last I would be white ash falling into the world,

I would rather be a bitter pain inscribed in thy cross.

In each every dropping sweat

I would be flying up newly

As a phoenix from the gray ashes

To replay the Lamb’s doom.


***