Thinking At Night
Before my bed, moonlight so bright
it’s almost like frost upon the ground.
Lifting my head, I look at the moon,
lowering my head, I think of home.
Farewell To A Friend
The dust in Wei Chang has been cleared by rain.
Next to the Inn, willows shimmer green.
Before you leave, won’t you have one more cup?
West of Yang Guan, you will find no friends.
The tall willow is adorned with Jasper,
a thousand branches like emerald threads.
Who could have cut the leaves so fine? –
The early spring wind, sharp as scissor blades.
Sir, Ever Since You Left
Sir, ever since you left,
I haven’t returned to my loom.
I’m like the full moon when I think of you,
slowly waning as the nights pass.
In her chamber she had never known worry.
Now, dressed for spring, she climbs her tower.
In the street, the poplars have turned green.
For a mere title she sent him to war.
I left home young and return an old man.
My accent is unchanged, but my hair has grown coarse.
Children see me, but don’t recognise this stranger.
Laughing, they ask from where I have come.
Nicholas Beaumont is a 22-year-old Graduate from the University of Lincoln, currently working in Anhui, China. In 2010 he won the Nigel Winn Memorial Award for Best Piece of Creative Writing by a Student Studying English. His work has appeared in Vinyl Poetry, The Red Ceiling, Snakeskin, an anthology by Tower Poetry, and has won the Creative Writing Ink Quarterly Poetry Competition. Nicholas is also poetry editor of b[liminal] magazine.