Brandon Learning Centre: British Education - process, preparation and practicalities

I found the most heavenly poem today. Short and poignant, it captures the physical effects of loss and the despair of loss. Nothing comes close to the inertia and despair one experiences on losing someone close. In Kenneth Rexroth's translation, this anonymous Six Dynasties poet descibes the destructive effects wrought on the body by the mind I can no longer untangle my hair. I feed on my own flesh in secret. Do you want to measure how much I long for you? Look at my belt, how loose it hands. - Anonymous From One Hunded More Poems from the Chinese Love and the Turning Year - Kenneth Rexroth

We are familiar with Western poetry about the Spring but English speakers may be less familar with the following poem which has been sensitively translated by TC Lai: Spring - Chun Kwan (1049 - 1100) Spring has sprayed the paths with flowers As scores of thrushes Rishing from the bushes Burst out like fireworks to announce their joy. I lie in the shade of an old oak, drunk. The clouds overhead race; Tigers, dragons and bears Changelings each other chase Till the evening sun steals in and bathes In the quick-gold of the lake unawares. I love the contrast between the poetic flights of fancy which are punctured by the prosaic description of him being"drunk." He goes from this simple statement of condition to musing even more complex imaginings. The juxtaposition of the literary and mundane reminds me of Oscar Wilde's "we are all in the gutter but some of us are looking at the stars" This poem is a glorious snapshot in time which will come back to

I have been reading to arthur waley's wonderful Chinese Poems   this week. I particularly enjoy the following poem as it illustrates the various groups who provide support and thus contribute to a student's achievements: family, friends and the application of the individual. The humble tone of the narrator is a joy. After Passing the Exam - Po Chui I (800ad) For   ten years I never left my books; I went up… and won unmerited praise. My high place I do not much prize; The joy of my parents will first make me proud. Fellow students, six or seven men, See me off as I leave the City gate. My covered couch is ready to drive away; Flutes and strings blend their parting tune. Hopes achieved dull the pains of parting; Fumes of wine shorten the long road… Shod with wings is the horse of him who rides On a Spring day the road that leads to home. Despite having been written over two thousand years so, there is a freshness and a sincerity in this poem which still resonat