and know this
whatever you
I shall love
translated by Anne Carson
Month: January 2014
the eye of the storm
teeth on edge
the jaw set
there’s some kind of hell
you just walked out of
and another just ahead
the eye of the storm
never lasts
quite as long
as they say
if they are saying
anything at all
With My Brother At The South Study by Wang Ch’ang-ling
Lying on a high seat in the south study,
We have lifted the curtain–and we see the rising moon
Brighten with pure light the water and the grove
And flow like a wave on our window and our door.
It will move through the cycle, full moon and then crescent again,
Calmly, beyond our wisdom, altering new to old.
. . .Our chosen one, our friend, is now by a limpid river–
Singing, perhaps, a plaintive eastern song.
He is far, far away from us, three hundred miles away,
And yet a breath of orchids comes along the wind.
translated by Witter Bynner & Kiang Kang-hu
from An Empty Garlic by Rumi
Let yourself be silently drawn
by the stronger pull of what you really love.
translated by Coleman Barks with John Moyne
Listening To Lu Tzu-hsün Play The Ch’in On A Moonlit Night by Li Po (Li Bai)
The night’s lazy, the moon bright. Sitting
here, a recluse plays his pale white ch’in,
and suddenly, as if cold pines were singing,
it’s all those harmonies of grieving wind.
Intricate fingers flurries of white snow,
empty thoughts emerald-water clarities:
No one understands now. Those who could
hear a song this deeply vanished long ago.
translated by David Hinton
going home: Beppe’s song
they talk about roads not taken
but I think of roads took
choices made
that led me here
so very far from home
and home is where you go
when there’s no place left
to run
a familiar landscape
under a familiar sun
Through The Yang-tsze Gorges by Li Po (Li Bai)
From the walls of Po-ti high in the coloured dawn
To Kiang-ling by night-fall is three hundred miles,
Yet monkeys are still calling on both banks behind me
To my boat these ten thousand mountains away.
translated by Witter Bynner & Kiang Kang-hu
a poem about love, sort of
he brags about the prostitute
that didn’t charge him
because he is a college administrator
an important man
even more so in his own eyes
and his wife
well that’s just the kids
he gets his love
other places
his chest swells
his eyes twinkle
his lip curls onto itself
he’s like my barber
who pines for love
as he looks out at passing girls
his view of marriage
is the same
it’s just kids
I try to understand
this phenomenon
different social classes
the same view
of marriage
of love
it seems to be widespread
you’re in love until you marry
then you have kids
and look for love elsewhere
in the US
I heard it from women too
the need for space
self-fulfillment
something it seems
is lacking in couples
nowadays
but here women are more accommodating
pick up after the men
cook their favorite meals
flush their toilets
and pretend you don’t notice
the wandering eyes
it’s about values
ultimately
what is important
and how much you give
what you expect in return
and me
I’m on the wrong planet
I’d ask to be beamed up
but there’s no ship waiting
so instead I’m looking seaward
for ships on the horizon
ready to take me
into the sun
A Farewell To Meng Hao-jan On His Way To Yang-chou by Li Po (Li Bai)
You have left me behind, old friend, at the Yellow Crane Terrace,
On your way to visit Yang-chou in the misty month of flowers;
Your sail, a single shadow, becomes one with the blue sky,
Till now I see only the river, on its way to heaven.
translated by Witter Bynner & Kiang Kang-hu
To Li Po At The Sky’s End by Tu Fu
A cold wind blows from the far sky. . .
What are you thinking of, old friend?
The wild geese never answer me.
Rivers and lakes are flooded with rain.
. . .A poet should beware of prosperity,
Yet demons can haunt a wanderer.
Ask an unhappy ghost, throw poems to him
Where he drowned himself in the Mi-lo River.
translated by Witter Bynner & Kiang Kang-hu
Leonard Durso 