Translations from the Flesh

Elegant Gathering in the Apricot Garden

76 elegant Gathering in the apricot Garden —handscroll by Xie Huan Not paradise, no windfall scent of apple Or jeweled evasions of the snake, But this garden on a silk scroll, six feet Of tint and ink, and five figures At ease inside a rough pavilion, Screen of leafy branches laced around A pale lattice of bamboo. On a bamboo pole, A boy holds up a painted cloth, its loose end Settled in some elder’s lap. Whatever the old man Sees there and says, it seems to please The graybeard next to him, looking on, Hands buried in the broad sleeves of his robe. Behind them, in gowns of pink and moss, Two others wait, one standing With a scroll half-open, and one Seated at a low table, his brush poised As if to take dictation, to make his mark Against the emptiness unrolled before him. No fruit, no ripe imperatives of flesh Seduce the palate, in this landscape Too serene for anything but muted shades, This quiet gathering of men Composed in cool silk, far below The high tension of the stars No one can see, and somewhere beyond The ache and panic of desire. ...