The Chinese wood called huanghuali
became extinct when sacrificed
for fine arts in a grand finale
more pleasing to the eye than Christ
upon his cross. It may be seen
in great museums which, like churches,
become the places where, serene,
the selfish dilettante now searches
for beauty showing truth has died,
just like religion, and like trees,
to artists long ago supplied
to demonstrate their expertise.
By Christ on crosses I’m appalled,
and say to worshippers, “Beware! ”
and would prefer the tree I called
the huanghuali to a chair.
(4/1/05,5/3/07)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
GERSHORN, when is the next service? NiCe PEWs PrEAcH