Old Idea of Choan by Rosoriu
The narrow streets cut into the wide highway at Choan,Dark oxen, white horses,drag on the seven coaches with outriders.The coaches are perfumed wood,The jewelled chair is held up at the crossway,Before the royal lodgea glitter of golden saddles, awaiting the princess,They eddy before the gate of the barons.The canopy embroidered with dragonsdrinks in and casts back the sun.
Evening comes.The trappings are bordered with mist.The hundred cords of mist are spread throughand double the trees,Night birds, and night women,spread out their sounds through the gardens.
Birds with flowery wing, hovering butterfliescrowd over the thousand gates,Trees that glitter like jade,terraces tinged with silver,The seed of a myriad hues,A net-work of arbours and passages and covered ways,Double towers, winged roofs,border the net-work of ways:A place of felicitous meeting.Riu’s house stands out on the sky,with glitter of colourAs Butei of Kan had made the high golden lotusto gather his dews,Before it another house which I do not know:How shall we know all the friendswhom we meet on strange roadways?
“Wet springtime,” says To-em-mei,“Wet spring in the garden.”
The clouds have gathered, and gathered,and the rain falls and falls,The eight ply of the heavensare all folded into one darkness,And the wide, flat road stretches out.I stop in my room toward the East, quiet, quiet,I pat my new cask of wine.My friends are estranged, or far distant,I bow my head and stand still.
Rain, rain, and the clouds have gathered,The eight ply of the heavens are darkness,The flat land is turned into river.“Wine, wine, here is wine!”I drink by my eastern window.I think of talking and man,And no boat, no carriage, approaches.
The trees in my east-looking gardenare bursting out with new twigs,They try to stir new affection,
The birds flutter to rest in my tree,and I think I have heard them saying,“It is not that there are no other menBut we like this fellow the best,But however we long to speakHe can not know of our sorrow.”
T’ao Yuan Ming.A.D. 365-427.
Words in this poem
- princess n.
- A female prince; a woman having sovereign power, or the rank of a prince. [F. princesse. See Prince, and cf. Princesse.]
- myriad n.
- The number of ten thousand; ten thousand persons or things. [Gr. myriade.]
- felicitous a.
- Characterized by felicity; happy; prosperous; delightful; skilful; successful; happily applied or expressed; appropriate.
- shall v. i.
- To owe; to be under obligation for. [OE. shal, schal, imp. sholde, scholde, AS. scal, sceal, I am obliged, imp. scolde, sceolde, inf. sculan; akin to OS. skulan, pres. skal, imp. skolda, D. zullen,]
- springtime n.
- The season of spring; springtide.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Old Idea of Choan by Rosoriu is in the public domain. This text is taken from Lustra of Ezra Pound, Project Gutenberg ebook #55564; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Ezra Pound, Old Idea of Choan by Rosoriu, in Lustra (1916), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #55564, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/pound-lustra/old-idea-of-choan-by-rosoriu.html, id L01322.
Form and metre
Old Idea of Choan by Rosoriu is 61 lines in 9 verse paragraphs. It is unrhymed, as far as the pronouncing dictionary can tell. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 75%). 88% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 8.1 syllables. 27 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 18% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in iambic tetrameter.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 3 ----AB-B----A--B butterflies · gates · jade · silver · huesA · waysB · roofs · waysB · meeting · sky · colour · lotus · dewsA · know · friends · roadwaysB
- 5 ----AA--- gathered · falls · heavens · darkness · outA · quietA · wine · distant · still
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against iambic tetrameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| The narrow streets cut into the wide highway at Choan, | 13 | ·/˘······/··· |
| Dark oxen, white horses, | 6 | ·/˘·/˘ |
| drag on the seven coaches with outriders. | 11 | ···/˘/˘·/·˘ |
| The coaches are perfumed wood, | 7 | ·/˘·˘/· |
| The jewelled chair is held up at the crossway, | 11 | ·/˘······/˘ |
| Before the royal lodge | 6 | ···/˘· |
| a glitter of golden saddles, awaiting the princess, | 14 | ·/˘·/˘/˘˘/˘·/˘ |
| They eddy before the gate of the barons. | 11 | ·/˘······/˘ |
| The canopy embroidered with dragons | 10 | ·/˘˘˘/˘·/˘ |
| drinks in and casts back the sun. | 7 | ······· |
| Evening comes. | 3 | /˘· |
| The trappings are bordered with mist. | 8 | ·/˘·/˘·· |
| The hundred cords of mist are spread through | 9 | ·/˘······ |
| and double the trees, | 5 | ·/˘·· |
| Night birds, and night women, | 6 | ····/˘ |
| spread out their sounds through the gardens. | 8 | ······/˘ |
| Birds with flowery wing, hovering butterflies | 12 | ··/˘˘·/˘˘/˘· |
| crowd over the thousand gates, | 7 | ····/˘· |
| Trees that glitter like jade, | 6 | ··/˘·· |
| terraces tinged with silver, | 7 | /˘˘··/˘ |
| The seed of a myriad hues, | 8 | ····/˘˘· |
| A net-work of arbours and passages and covered ways, | 14 | ····/˘·/˘˘·/˘· |
| Double towers, winged roofs, | 6 | /˘/˘·· |
| border the net-work of ways: | 7 | /˘····· |
| A place of felicitous meeting. | 9 | ···˘/˘˘/˘ |
| Riu’s house stands out on the sky, | 7 | ······· |
| with glitter of colour | 6 | ·/˘·/˘ |
| As Butei of Kan had made the high golden lotus | 13 | ·········/˘/˘ |
| to gather his dews, | 5 | ·/˘·· |
| Before it another house which I do not know: | 12 | ···˘/˘······ |
| How shall we know all the friends | 7 | ······· |
| whom we meet on strange roadways? | 7 | ·····/· |
| “Wet springtime,” says To-em-mei, | 7 | ·/····· |
| “Wet spring in the garden.” | 6 | ····/˘ |
| The clouds have gathered, and gathered, | 8 | ···/˘·/˘ |
| and the rain falls and falls, | 6 | ······ |
| The eight ply of the heavens | 7 | ·····/˘ |
| are all folded into one darkness, | 9 | ··/˘···/˘ |
| And the wide, flat road stretches out. | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| I stop in my room toward the East, quiet, quiet, | 13 | ·········/˘/˘ |
| I pat my new cask of wine. | 7 | ······· |
| My friends are estranged, or far distant, | 9 | ···˘/··/˘ |
| I bow my head and stand still. | 7 | ······· |
| Rain, rain, and the clouds have gathered, | 8 | ······/˘ |
| The eight ply of the heavens are darkness, | 10 | ·····/˘·/˘ |
| The flat land is turned into river. | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| “Wine, wine, here is wine!” | 5 | ····· |
| I drink by my eastern window. | 8 | ····/˘/˘ |
| I think of talking and man, | 7 | ···/˘·· |
| And no boat, no carriage, approaches. | 9 | ····/˘˘/˘ |
| The trees in my east-looking garden | 9 | ·····/˘/˘ |
| are bursting out with new twigs, | 7 | ·/˘···· |
| They try to stir new affection, | 8 | ·····˘/˘ |
| The birds flutter to rest in my tree, | 9 | ··/˘····· |
| and I think I have heard them saying, | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| “It is not that there are no other men | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| But we like this fellow the best, | 8 | ····/˘·· |
| But however we long to speak | 8 | ··/˘···· |
| He can not know of our sorrow.” | 9 | ·····/˘/˘ |
| T’ao Yuan Ming. | 4 | ·˘/· |
| A.D. 365-427. | 2 | ·· |
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