Mu Nu (Mother and daughter) 1997
Hung Liu
Oil on canvas, diptych
The Song Of The Old Mother by William Butler Yeats I rise in the dawn, and I kneel and blow Till the seed of the fire flicker and glow; And then I must scrub and bake and sweep Till stars are beginning to blink and peep; And the young lie long and dream in their bed Of the matching of ribbons for bosom and head, And their day goes over in idleness, And they sigh if the wind but lift a tress: While I must work because I am old, And the seed of the fire gets feeble and cold.
so powerful
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Thanks Beth. 🙂
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What a beautiful post your have given us both with the painting and the wonderful poem by Yeats.
In spite of the hard work and unfairness the poem doesn’t fall foul for pity. Such gentle and caring
observation of a situation.
miriam
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Beautifully said Miriam. 🙂
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