Don Quixote Golf East

On one night, 
is it because of a bewitched full moon?
while driving my rusty shaking junk car
I became Don Quixote de la Mancha 
mounted on Rozinante holding a lance under the arm aslant,
and with a full gallop, dashing into the battle field, through the street where 
the full moon was hanging thirty degree above the sky between forests eastward.

The trees standing both sides on the street 
dyed by reddish-yellowish gray moonbeam in silhouette
were the windmill sails whirling their gigantic arms in air to assail me.

The red and green one-eyed giants
often met on the way eastward were the fat and ugly 
demon-possessed skins of red wine that must have slain.

Flourishing lance to the right and left
while giving spurs to Rozinante again and again
to advance rapidly, I found myself in the middle 
of enemy territory before becoming aware of it,
detouring annoying barricades, I was running through 
the path between ramparts while ducking a shower of arrows,
came to the endless water front where disabled Rozinante fell.

When raging waves come and hit the breakwater
for the water cannot advance any further or is able to return,
the waves break up the hundreds and thousands of beads and
return to the bottomless water while flushing its silvery blue scales.

And when sprays of water that dived into the deepest sea 
gush out from its bottom belching fire, it rises to the sky 
and becomes a gigantic dragon and swallows the moon.

In the darkness where the dragon gathering dark clouds
after swallowing the moon the rain falls, the torrential rain 
hits Mambrino’s helmet mercilessly.

Then, Don Quixote kneels to make the sign of the cross
while patting a breathless Rozinante lying on this desolated waterfront.

The cross he made falls on the sands,
the cross he made mourns while washing away in the water.

[Someday, 
some may sing Don Quixote with the finest lute in hand.					
Praise the gentleman Don Quixote de la Mancha
with silvery voice in one accord, with unforgettably kind remarks:

the one who lived true life of knight is
Don Quixote de la Mancha
the knight of knights, the hero of heroes.]



NOTE: The Golf Road runs from east to west on north suburb of Chicago, and east (ends or starts) at Lake Michigan.

Copyright © Su Ben | Year Posted 2015

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