It doesn’t mean anything,
It doesn’t mean anything at all;
For all left behind me is fleeting
And it will not make me fall.
It doesn’t mean much,
It doesn’t mean much at all;
For all left behind me is now out of touch
And it will not catch me once for all.
He bangs the drum and makes a grand entrance,
annoying gentlemen and terrifying ladies
in their fine costumes and sparkling jewels
grimacing at his brave face
radiating his crimson valor to break the silence
sealed in proprieties, the pillar of formalities, the flagpole of vanity fairs.
Forthwith he enters the ballroom full of all eyes and ears
and makes the ether vocal with a rude awakening of wild senses.
Don’t know why
I’m thinking of you everyday,
When there’s got to be,
No chance for me
To make you love me.
Don’t know why
My eyes see you everyday,
And it doesn’t matter if you can’t see me,
If you don’t know how much I cry
‘Cause I see no other way.
I know it’s a waste of time
This fantasy of mine.
But if I turn away,
If I walk away,
You will be gone away.
If I can’t see you,
I don’t want anybody, no way.
If I lose you,
I don’t want anybody, nobody,
I don’t want anybody, baby…
The gloriously beautiful hunter from afar
He came to fool the maiden to catch him after.
Thus did she see him; he and she never met
That was a low she couldn’t bear with might.
There he again trailed away slowly
Like a hazy shadow of sunset sadly.
Their rendezvous circled the epicycle
Of the eternity orb in orb like the Sibyl’s oracle.
If Beauty fades,
Then, my dear
Give me shares
Before it vanishes.
And if it lingers,
Then why refuse
To give me shares
That will ever remain?
Flame, Glass and Ink are Poems, essays, and reading notes by Stefania Joori Suh 
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