Xuanzang: Observations
on Assam, Bihar, Kasmir,
the Peninsular and Punjab
We meet dismay when pondering histories
Far foreign from our time. Many amassed
Cross-pollinated facts become mysteries,
As when a Chinese traveler in the past
So distant that we have no handle on it tours
An India synonymously long
Ago in time. He puts the facts in stores
Of Chinese script on silk. The scrolls are strong
But they are full of details so opaque
In meaning to my mind and modern soul
That they are like the missing words, the ache
Beneath a palimpsest. They form a hole.
He writes of sects and abbots lost in slow
Time, melted like primeval empires’ snow.