horns in the night
the chanting continues
so much anger
at what cannot be undone
death toll mounts
while one is torn with grief
silent prayers
shouting protests
neither brings back the dead
nor brings comfort to the living
the fate we face
raging in the night
at what we are powerless
to change
Month: May 2014
on the Golden Horn 2
a glass of wine
an impromptu concert
old men on benches
grilling kebob
two dogs go swimming
a couple takes photos
spring is here
by the shore
A remembrance is moving by Juan Ramon Jimenez
A remembrance is moving
down the long memory, disturbing
the dry leaves with its delicate feet.
—Behind, the house is empty.
On ahead, highways
going on to other places, solitary highways,
stretched out.
And the rain is like weeping eyes,
as if the eternal moment were going blind—.
Even though the house is quiet and shut,
even though I am not in it, I am in it.
And. . .good-bye, you who are walking
without turning your head!
translated by Robert Bly
conversations with myself
the only person
to talk to
in a land foreign
to my ears
my voice
familiar
in echo
beginning
light creeps in
no turning back
another day
another beginning
from Written on a Monastery Wall by Li Shang-yin
If we trust the true and sure words written on Indian leaves
We will hear all past and future in one stroke of the temple bell.
translated by A.C. Graham
Going Down the Lo by Boat from Kunghsien into the Yellow River: To My Colleagues in the Perfecture and County Governments by Wei Ying-wu
The narrow water the green hills and the road lead east
the peaks to the southeast make way for the Great River
leafless trees are indistinct on the far horizon
evening light shimmers and sinks in the flood
how long have I lived in this village on the Yi
the sky clears and a lone goose lands with the North Wind
my dear itinerant colleagues back at Loyang Bridge
my little boat is loose and with it is my heart
translated by Red Pine
On a Moonlit Night Meeting at Hsu Eleven’s Thatched Hut by Wei Ying-wu
In an empty study with nothing to do
you loosened your hair strings and waited for a friend
it wasn’t a night for reading
but for writing poems about the moon
after listening to the bell and sleeping in comfort
we rolled up dew-covered blinds
and sensed another fall was near
while the fading river tried to hold off dawn
translated by Red Pine
on the Golden Horn
water gently laps
against the hulls of boats
a gull floats by
on its way to heaven
In Reply to Commissioner Ts’ui by Wei Ying-wu
A courtyard of bamboo and late-night snow
a lone lantern a book on the table
if I hadn’t encountered the teaching of no effort
how else could I have gained this life of leisure
translated by Red Pine
Leonard Durso 