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     A Journey into the Melody of Kitaro1
    Rewat Panpipat


     

     

    On the spur of the moment you hear a water song
    You become a silver fish swimming against the tide in a blue river
    Bitter-sweet lullabies echo from those houses by the river
    Wisps of evening gray smoke linger on shrubs amidst various vibrant sounds of different birds
    A boy is strolling on a small dirt road along the river
    You call upon him;indeed, he couldn’t hear you
    (the sound echoes in vain on the surface of the water)
    Because he is walking in his dream
    He often spreads both arms like a bird spreading its wings
    River banks with thick bushes and shrubs are like numerous hands and arms reaching and grabbing his limbs
    The boy who keeps dreaming about the outside world afar
    He wishes to travel on a leaf boat, crossing a cloud bridge
    Dusk is serenely lonesome
    The boy climbs to sit on a branch of an ancient rain tree whose branches spread over the dark blue river
    Waiting for Sunthorn Pu2 who might have travelled by in a Krachaeng3 boat, crafting a never-ending lyrical poem
    Upon Mother’s calling
    You raise yourself to the water’s surface; your silver scales reflect the golden moonlight, just emerging from the eastern horizon.

    On the spur of the moment you hear a mountain song
    You become a goat, lost in the starlight among the vast sizzling desert
    Inside the barb wire fence a young soldier stands on guard duty at the sentry box
    You call upon him; indeed, he couldn’t hear you
    (the sound echoes in vain among the surrounding mountain landscapes)
    Because he sinks into wishful oblivion
    He fits the bayonet to his M16 rifle
    Before flicking it on the sand below
    With the guiding starlight, words just keep flowing out endlessly
    He writes down and moves backwards all at once
    Standing still, pondering, nodding satisfactorily
    Then he erases them with his thick boots, feeling a piercing pain, breaking down crying
    In the night filled with malodorous scents of wild animals
    Unending words bring him back to an invisible steel cage
    Its metal door is slammed shut
    You run helter-skelter up the mountain of war.

    On the spur of the moment youhear a song of the sea
    You become a stray catwandering under the sky of mysterious blue butterfly wings
    Within the milieu of industrial estates that never sleep
    Among the lines of ailing factory workers
    In unison are the sounds of the waves and the sounds of the crying hearts
    You see a young male worker sitting and hugging his knees on a pile of boxes in the warehouse
    You call upon him; indeed, he couldn’t hear you
    (the sound echoes in vain above the deep blue sea)
    Because he is only dreaming about tomorrow
    While living in yesterday
    Dreaming his poem would be published in a weekly political magazine
    The poem about a boy full of imagination living in a wooden house by the river
    The boy who has died with the long-lost bitter-sweet lullabies
    The poem about a miserable mother, a military camp, and a drunken worker
    The poem that ties his ethereal life to this world
    The factory bell rings loudly, announcing the start of the shift
    You leave on the road of melting asphalt.

    On the spur of the moment youhear a song of the field
    You become a crow flying against the wind to return home
    You see a middle-aged man standing on the paddy-field ridge, talking vibrantly to a shabby scarecrow
    Under the scorching sun
    You call upon him; indeed, he couldn’t hear you
    (the sound echoes in vain through the field)
    Because he is speaking to himself
    After returning from the outside world
    He wishes to bury his spirit and soul at the roots of his motherland
    But the fields are all gone
    And the rivers have died
    His poems are surreally repetitive like a broken record
    The scorching sun has become a field of sunflowers
    Behind the scent of tobacco
    The face beneath the straw hat is rough, pale, and gloomy
    He babbles, laughs, cries
    He tears his book of poetry into pieces and scatters them in the wind
    A single gunshot goes off
    You fly to the sky amidst those black dots of poetry pieces.

    ----------------------------------------------------------
    1Kitarō (喜多郎), born Masanori Takahashi (高橋正則) (4 February 1953 - present), is a Japanese recording artist, composer, record producer, and arranger noted for his electronic-instrumental music, and is often associated with and regarded as one of the most prominent musical acts of New-age music. He is the winner of a Grammy Award for Best New Age Album (Thinking of You, 1999); with a record 16 nominations in the same category) and a Golden Globe Award for the Heaven & Earth (1993) original score.
    2Sunthorn Phu (????????) or Phra Sunthonwohan (26 June 1786 – 1855) is Thailand’s best-known royal poet during the Rattanakosin Period (1782–1932). His career as a royal poet began in the reign of King Rama II, and when the king died, he resigned from the role and became a monk. Twenty years later, in the reign of King Rama III, he returned to court as a royal scribe, where he remained for the rest of his life. Sunthorn Pu was renowned for composing verse, and his epic poetry is popular in Thailand to the present day.
    3Krachaengor Rua Krachaeng means a boat built from wood with a canopy. The word “Krachaeng“ means the canopy that covers almost the entire length of the boat. In the olden days Krachaeng was made of bamboo leaves or Pandan palm leaves. The leaves were sewn by using needle to form a sheet, and then the sheets were sewn together to form Krachaeng or canopy. Subsequently, Krachaeng made of such materials became expensive. It was hence changed from natural to galvanized iron sheets. A canopy made of natural material has no longer to be seen.“Krachaeng boat” can carry many cargoes, be they rocks, soil, sand, firewood, paddy, rice, etc.

     



    Shanghai Writers’ Association
    675, Julu Road Shanghai, 200040
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