All for thirty Yuan
Crossing Tian Na Men
fluttering midnight kites soar
above the rickshaw
Who flies kites at night?
Somewhere on the darkened square
dreams tug on taut strings
At a funeral of the previous generation
(For Jamie and Rupert, with confidence! February 11th 2000)
Passing time before the funeral watching strangers
weigh their flesh against the sloping street.
Age balanced by effort.
Seen through the bay window of a former grocery
in which the faded gentry had thickened their outstanding ledgers,
a grey haired man slipped past, last seen in youth,
and in each pane the image blurred from boy to man
man to boy and back again, six lifetimes in an instant.
A speed to mock the act of killing time.
Later, watching our sons at the funeral I found myself unsettled
not by death, but by change in life.
They stand confident and at ease, and I note with pleasure
the focus is with them, this is their time, they have its measure.
Only by their tenure do I recognise my loss
and sense the gentle terror of my new position
just this side of the balance.
• Ivor Murrell retired last year to coastal Suffolk with his wife, after running the trade association for the UK malting industry, He was previously one of the last floor maltsters in the country. The Beijing double haiku was written in 1993.
