W.B.Yeats studied magical skills over 30 years and wrote his magical poetry to prepare for the New Age and the completion of Great Work. I would like to reply to Yeats's magical poem for the Tarot symbol. The Fisherman is shown to the completion of the Great Work. I also would like to clim the Mountain, as the upstanding young man. You can see the image of the Hermit, Key 9 and the image of the Fisherman in Yeats's poem which is related to the symbol of Tarot Key 17.
Also you can see the symbol of dancing and dancer in Yeats's poems in my poem.
The Dancing with the Hermit on the
Top of Mt. Meru
-Responding to W. B. Yeats’s poem “The Fisherman”
Written by Mina Cho
Beside of the Gray rocks
He
casts his flies alone and looks
down the world.
What is your name called by people?
Even who can know you in the
world?
The sages and the supermen who are
staring at
Your deeply solitary state
And they call you “Nirvana.”
Now you are in the ecstasy of
life.
You are my flesh of the fleshes
and my bone of the bones
You are the hermit in my soul
He is listening to the dropping water drops on the mountain
hill
All day long beside the
waterfall weaving
Of
golden and silver light of the waterfall
You meditate as deeply listening to the water falling
sound.
Following to your wind mantle
Following to your
waving gray long coat
I will be dancing with you on the
universal dancing stage
With the movement of atom of the green life.
I will throw out the secular knapsack
With the worldly sorrow and agony
Only climbing the top of the
mountain
Looking up your figure by backward
of a crab walking
Wherever I will
go, I am alone so I am not alone.
Because there are your hands to raise me.
Whenever my steps are backward
walking
You are just looking down on me there.
This path is for me to climb up
rightly
Toward water of life
This path is the most ecstasy because of you.
Your laughing is heard loudly rolling as a silver bell
Into the waves of the waterfall.
I would like to hold your hands
Flying in the sky
within the loud laughing.
Standing alone on the top of Mt
. Meru
You are looking down into the secular people’s
places
Of the peak of their endless
desire
My real friend, You have tragic joy to them.
The hermit’s lantern which is not extinct
In the harsh snowstorm of the
Mountain.
The howling of the limitless
blooms of the illusion
From the secular world which are
not much better than
An unknown snow flower under your
feet
There are foam
blooms of illusion only
In the jealousy sea to struggle
with each other.
Although they would bloom at moment
They would be melted and disappeared by a short sunshine .
And they would be pulling into the forgotten hole
of maze.
I have my foolish dullness which I
could not throw out
Not becoming a pillar of salt, I
would not look it back.
I would be bent low to
follow your light of the lantern.
Only this path for me to backward
walking on which
I can dance with the hermit on the top of
Mt. Meru.
