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lirik lagu vachel lindsay - the chinese nightingale

“how, how,” he said. “friend chang,” i said
“san francisco sleeps as the dead~~
ended license, l~st and play:
why do you iron the night away?
your big clock speaks with a deadly sound
with a tick and a wail till dawn comes round
while the monster shadows glower and creep
what can be better for man than sleep?”

“i will tell you a secret,” chang replied;
“my breast with vision is satisfied
and i see green trees and fluttering wings
and my deathless bird from shanghai sings.”
then he lit five fire~crackers in a pan
“pop, pop,” said the fire~crackers, “cra~cra~crack.”
he lit a joss stick long and black
then the proud gray joss in the corner stirred;
on his wrist appеared a gray small bird
and this was the song of the gray small bird:
“whеre is the princess, loved forever
who made chang first of the kings of men?”

and the joss in the corner stirred again;
and the carved dog, curled in his arms, awoke
barked forth a smoke~cloud that whirled and broke
it piled in a maze round the ironing~place
and there on the snowy table wide
stood a chinese lady of high degree
with a scornful, witching, tea~rose face….
yet she put away all form and pride
and laid her glimmering veil aside
with a childlike smile for chang and for me
the walls fell back, night was aflower
the table gleamed in a moonlit bower
while chang, with a countenance carved of stone
ironed and ironed, all alone
and thus she sang to the busy man chang:
“have you forgotten….
deep in the ages, long, long ago
i was your sweetheart, there on the sand~~
storm~worn beach of the chinese land?
we sold our grain in the peac~ck town
built on the edge of the sea~sands brown~~
built on the edge of the sea~sands brown….

“when all the world was drinking blood
from the skulls of men and bulls
and all the world had swords and clubs of stone
we drank our tea in china beneath the sacred spice~trees
and heard the curled waves of the harbor moan
and this gray bird, in love’s first spring
with a bright~bronze breast and a bronze~brown wing
captured the world with his carolling
do you remember, ages after
at last the world we were born to own?
you were the heir of the yellow throne~~
the world was the field of the chinese man
and we were the pride of the sons of han?
we copied deep books and we carved in jade
and wove blue silks in the mulberry shade….”
“i remember, i remember
that spring came on forever
that spring came on forever,”
said the chinese nightingale

my heart was filled with marvel and dream
though i saw the western street~lamps gleam
though dawn was bringing the western day
though chang was a laundryman ironing away….
mingled there with the streets and alleys
the railroad~yard and the clock~tower bright
demon clouds crossed ancient valleys;
across wide lotus~ponds of light
i marked a giant firefly’s flight

and the lady, rosy~red
flourished her fan, her shimmering fan
stretched her hand toward chang, and said:
“do you remember
ages after
our palace of heart~red stone?
do you remember
the little doll~faced children
with their lanterns full of moon~fire
that came from all the empire
honoring the throne?~~
the loveliest fête and carnival
our world had ever known?
the sages sat about us
with their heads bowed in their beards
with proper meditation on the sight
confucius was not born;
we lived in those great days
confucius later said were lived aright….
and this gray bird, on that day of spring
with a bright bronze breast, and a bronze~brown wing
captured the world with his carolling
late at night his tune was spent
peasants
sages
children
homeward went
and then the bronze bird sang for you and me
we walked alone. our hearts were high and free
i had a silvery name, i had a silvery name
i had a silvery name~~do you remember
the name you cried beside the tumbling sea?”
chang turned not to the lady slim~~
he bent to his work, ironing away;
but she was arch, and knowing and glowing
and the bird on his shoulder spoke for him

“darling … darling … darling … darling …”
said the chinese nightingale

the great gray joss on a rustic shelf
rakish and shrewd, with his collar awry
sang impolitely, as though by himself
drowning with his bellowing the nightingale’s cry:
“back through a hundred, hundred years
hear the waves as they climb the piers
hear the howl of the silver seas
hear the thunder
hear the gongs of holy china
how the waves and tunes combine
in a rhythmic clashing wonder
incantation old and fine:
‘dragons, dragons, chinese dragons
red fire~crackers, and green fire~crackers
and dragons, dragons, chinese dragons.'”

then the lady, rosy~red
turned to her lover chang and said:
“dare you forget that turquoise dawn
when we stood in our mist~hung velvet lawn
and worked a spell this great joss taught
till a god of the dragons was charmed and caught?
from the flag high over our palace home
he flew to our feet in rainbow~foam~~
a king of beauty and tempest and thunder
panting to tear our sorrows asunder
a dragon of fair adventure and wonder
we mounted the back of that royal slave
with thoughts of desire that were n0ble and grave
we swam down the shore to the dragon~mountains
we whirled to the peaks and the fiery fountains
to our secret ivory house we were bourne
we looked down the wonderful wing~filled regions
where the dragons darted in glimmering legions
right by my breast the nightingale sang;
the old rhymes rang in the sunlit mist
that we this hour regain~~
song~fire for the brain
when my hands and my hair and my feet you kissed
when you cried for your heart’s new pain
what was my name in the dragon~mist
in the rings of rainbowed rain?”

“sorrow and love, glory and love,”
said the chinese nightingale
“sorrow and love, glory and love,”
said the chinese nightingale

and now the joss broke in with his song:
“dying ember, bird of chang
soul of chang, do you remember?~~
ere you returned to the shining harbor
there were pirates by ten thousand
descended on the town
in vessels mountain~high and red and brown
moon~ships that climbed the storms and cut the skies
on their prows were painted terrible bright eyes
but i was then a wizard and a scholar and a priest;
i stood upon the sand;
with lifted hand i looked upon them
and sunk their vessels with my wizard eyes
and the stately lacquer~gate made safe again
deep, deep below the bay, the sea~weed and the spray
embalmed in amber every pirate lies
embalmed in amber every pirate lies.”

then this did the n0ble lady say:
“bird, do you dream of our home~coming day
when you flew like a courier on before
from the dragon~peak to our palace~door
and we drove the steed in your singing path~~
the ramping dragon of laughter and wrath:
and found our city all aglow
and knighted this joss that decked it so?
there were golden fishes in the purple river
and silver fishes and rainbow fishes
there were golden junks in the laughing river
and silver junks and rainbow junks:
there were golden lilies by the bay and river
and silver lilies and tiger~lilies
and tinkling wind~bells in the gardens of the town
by the black~lacquer gate
where walked in state
the kind king chang
and his sweet~heart mate….
with his flag~born dragon
and his crown of pearl … and … jade
and his nightingale reigning in the mulberry shade
and sailors and soldiers on the sea~sands brown
and priests who bowed them down to your song~~
by the city called han, the peac~ck town
by the city called han, the nightingale town
the nightingale town.”

then sang the bird, so strangely gay
fluttering, fluttering, ghostly and gray
a vague, unravelling, final tune
like a long unwinding silk cocoon;
sang as though for the soul of him
who ironed away in that bower dim:~~
“i have forgotten
your dragons great
merry and mad and friendly and bold
dim is your proud lost palace~gate
i vaguely know
there were heroes of old
troubles more than the heart could hold
there were wolves in the woods
yet lambs in the fold
nests in the top of the almond tree….
the evergreen tree … and the mulberry tree …
life and hurry and joy forgotten
years on years i but half~remember …
man is a torch, then ashes soon
may and june, then dead december
dead december, then again june
who shall end my dream’s confusion?
life is a loom, weaving illusion…
i remember, i remember
there were ghostly veils and laces…
in the shadowy bowery places…
with lovers’ ardent faces
bending to one another
speaking each his part
they infinitely echo
in the red cave of my heart
‘sweetheart, sweetheart, sweetheart.’
they said to one another
they spoke, i think, of perils past
they spoke, i think, of peace at last
one thing i remember:
spring came on forever
spring came on forever,”
said the chinese nightingale

- lirik lagu vachel lindsay

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