Chinoiserie

Gather thy blossom, ere it be stolen"
 [ ... ]

I drink my mother's favorite tea
 [ ... ]

Expensive silk brocades traveled through Syria
to become the opulent robes of priests—
Italian luxury fashion, made in China!

Porcelain's secret formula
evaded Europe's alchemists,
so potters from Delft made do,
painting alien landscapes in cobalt blue—
strange, improbable temples, grotesque foliage,
and mountains like camel humps—
on soft clay glazed in white tin.
Now their work is kneaded
into their nation's soul.

In Paris, a Tang Dynasty pipa,
once gifted between emperors,
captivated Georges Vuitton.
He added his father's monogram
to its inlaid geometry
and printed the pattern on canvas
to carry imperial baggage.

Fast forward to fast fashion:
Copies of Valentino and Vuitton
pour out of sweatshop factories.
Blue and white toile—
cotton dressed as clay—
adorned with peonies and crested birds.
Anything your heart desires, you can own,
all made in China!
Even my own grandfather warned me not to buy.

My mother sang Chinese songs
when I was in her belly.
I never learned her mother tongue,
but in my own voice, I can sing Puccini...

...yòu xiāng yòu bái rén rén kuā...

In questa reggia,
or son mill'anni e mille,
un grido disperato risonò.
E quel grido,
traverso stirpe e stirpe
qui nell'anima mia si rifugiò!
Principessa Lou-Ling,
ava dolce e serena
che regnavi nel tuo cupo silenzio
in gioia pura,
e sfidasti inflessibile e sicura
l'aspro dominio,
oggi rivivi in me!