Ice Sculptures Luke Hsieh dedicatin to Miss A.Walker. Prologue Perhaps it was arrogant indifferences, That carved these pretty creatures into existence, Strolling idly with little to attend but perhaps harmony of few strings, Very seldom has my mind the chance to depart from the sordid romantic things. Embracing solitude from chamber to chamber, Admiring these masterpieces amid freezing London winter, Do these pretty little trinkets know the whims of their master? That their beauty would never see the next sun�. And the very next kiss would turn them to rivers in reveries, An Almost reality, An Almost falsity, Perchance a certain irony�. I - A Rose An elegant white rose carved in its full bloom, Reflecting the bluish florescent-light of the room, The innocent pride like the last Tsarina on display, As if certainly that tomorrow will be a better day, I reached out my finger to feel her chilling charm, To embrace the ice-queen and draw her to my arm, Yet true to life as she is, she pricked my finger, My blood spilt from my heart onto her petal, Oh, but my blood did dye the crystal roses red, Yet its warmth brings her nearer of being dead, And the reddish coloring adds modesty, Yet killing it as I admired in guilty apology. II � Angelic In the other corner end stood a pony-tailed maiden aged a score, Or it seemed so to me that so pure a smile couldn't have aged more, Knowing not the colour of her eyers, hair as well as the flock she wears, Mind's eye could but give her the brightst of all colors and bemuse upon this beauty dear, Those crystal drops on her cheek did seem like merciful tears, Yet I could not determine the cause for so costly a stone to be paid for, For with mere signting angelic tears breaks many a hearts , And nothing on earth is ever so precious as to worth this art, Oh! does humanity ever worth anyone to shed tears? Let alone the tears of so pure a maiden is a simple outrage, Then my tongue tasted a salty drop from nowherre, Oh, it was nevver the questioon of whether humanity wortth the angelic tears, But rather the tears for humanity enhances the beauty of this angel fair, I never cared to ask who carved this maiden angelic, But would preferr to believe that the divine carved such magic, Alas, as my lips froxen touched hers, I could but wish that the relative warmth of my kiss,. Does not shorten her life in as elegant a setting as this. Epilogue As the soothing yet frivolous beat of "La valse de Pantineure." Slowly came to a close, I dreamt of giving this angel the bloody red rose, And then implore her for a mindless dance, Though I know I cannot forever stay in the state of such a reverie trance, Perhaps in a way, I am a loveless sculpture too, Living in amongs the brightest air, yet was carved by fools.
- Luke Hsieh