Through Tungting Lake in the middle of fall
the waters of the Hsiao and Hsiang flow north
but home is a thousand-mile dream away
and a guest greets dawn with sorrow
there’s no need to open a book
far better to visit an inn
Ch’ang-an and Loyang are full of old friends
but when will we join them again
translated by Red Pine
Yeah, I love this one. As soon as I see a poem from “Poems of the Masters” I am drawn back into that book and cannot come out for a while.
Yes, one can easily lose oneself in that collection.