Iraq is not like Vietnam–how?
Nui Ba Den
The mountain is a lady,
who has seen many wars,
while linked to the struggles,
above them she always rose.
Sometimes she dons a cloud sombrero
that spans wide to circle her head.
At early dawn she wears a grey-blue sari,
by mid-morn she’s green in all her naked glory,
her natural brilliance brooding.
And the night brings out her many moods,
she’s still a woman with passions stirring.
She waits on a lover long since killed in war,
she waits in faithfulness,
above the present war.
Her power is mystical,
and they call her the Black Virgin.
Her beauty casts a dark shadow,
her statement is enduring.
Long after the battles below her
and climbing along her sides,
she will be there to maintain countenance
over the flat countryside.
Those who have beheld Nui Ba Den
can get caught up in her spell,
she elicits a response that,
for a moment,
makes one forget about hell.
She rises above the turmoil that is man’s continued disease,
and in a timeless, postured, posing,
reflects transcendental ease.
When I saw her last, I was an intruder,
but she welcomed me with grace.
She was such a beautiful lady;
I’ll never forget her face.
Iraq is not like Vietnam--how?
Nui Ba Den
The mountain is a lady,
who has seen many wars,
while linked to the struggles,
above them she always rose.
Sometimes she dons a cloud somb... More >>
Nui Ba Den August 11, 2005 9:43 am
Iraq is not like Vietnam–how?
Nui Ba Den
The mountain is a lady,
who has seen many wars,
while linked to the struggles,
above them she always rose.
Sometimes she dons a cloud sombrero
that spans wide to circle her head.
At early dawn she wears a grey-blue sari,
by mid-morn she’s green in all her naked glory,
her natural brilliance brooding.
And the night brings out her many moods,
she’s still a woman with passions stirring.
She waits on a lover long since killed in war,
she waits in faithfulness,
above the present war.
Her power is mystical,
and they call her the Black Virgin.
Her beauty casts a dark shadow,
her statement is enduring.
Long after the battles below her
and climbing along her sides,
she will be there to maintain countenance
over the flat countryside.
Those who have beheld Nui Ba Den
can get caught up in her spell,
she elicits a response that,
for a moment,
makes one forget about hell.
She rises above the turmoil that is man’s continued disease,
and in a timeless, postured, posing,
reflects transcendental ease.
When I saw her last, I was an intruder,
but she welcomed me with grace.
She was such a beautiful lady;
I’ll never forget her face.