David Lewis Paget (22.11.1944 / Nottingham, England/live in Australia)
The Man in the Chinese Moon
Both Zhang and Tao, and Wang and Chen
They stare at the Chinese moon,
For the fifteenth day of the eighth month
They’ve waited and prayed at noon,
They’ve thought of the woman whose name is known
And written in script and rune,
They ponder her beauty and sinuous shape
As they stare at the round, full moon.
While on some hill, four girls sit still,
Their eyes raised clear to the sky,
They sigh and dream at a cold moonbeam
As they flush, turn red, and cry,
The book could tell them their future loves
But the book is held on high,
And even the children that wait to be born
Are written in ink that’s dry.
The man in the Chinese Moon, Yue Lao,
Is known to them, every one,
He keeps the book under lock and key
Lists every daughter and son,
Writes every lover before they’re born
Their partner, and every swoon,
Then beams and frowns as their wishes sound,
The Man in the Chinese Moon!
11 December 2005
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