Ode to Zhuge Liang

By Andrew Zhang I

I. The Triple Invitation

Young man,
in a plain white robe,
Zhuge Liang, the sage with his crane-feathered fan.

A one-room cottage cradled by 
trees gathers books and dried leaves– 
a thatched roof deflects 
the frequent downpours
amidst the spired mountains of Shandong.

On a white horse–
a king,
Liu Bei, the peasant-fugitive king
at the front door
is alone in supplication.
The sage
tells him his quest is
hopeless–but he returns
thrice, to invite to his side
Zhuge Liang,
Wo Long
the sleeping dragon.

Young man, he 
comes
down the 
precarious
alpine
path
to make a nation.

The dragon
wakes up.

II. At the Mumen Trail

A crane-feathered fan
lashes a burning forest
with blistering gale, makes a furnace
out of the mountain pass–a scattered
army scrambles 
and proclaims
“There is a 
dragon!”
Who else can play with fire?

III. Zhou Yu’s Frustration

A dragon? A slippery 
bastard, that’s what he is,
waving the damn sword around
at those red cliffs. 

“Sorcerer”–the commoners whisper
as the southeasterly wind
blows
and flames leap across
a chained armada.

And as we watch the spectacle,
he recedes into the distance, waving
from his straw boat.

IV. The Empty Fort

Above the open city gates
alone–
Wo Long gives a concert for the massed enemy.
They listen, and tremble. 
Each
note
of the guqin
resonates.

An army retreats
from an 
empty 
fort.
Rijs Johansongordet I