Flutes mourn on the city wall. It is dusk:
the last birds cross our village graveyard,
and after decades of battle, their war-tax
taken, people return in deepening night.
Trees darken against cliffs. Leaves fall.
The river of stars faintly skirting beyond
frontier passes, I gaze at a tilting Dipper,
the moon thin, magpies done with flight.
translated by David Hinton
he feels fine
I feel fine
going to Carolina
in my mind
or at least
what Carolina is
to me
and James
he’s going with me
singing away the blues
the sun shines
the moon shines
a highway stretches
out there
before us
forever
so saddle up
James and me
we are headed
for Carolina
and home cooked meals
lazy afternoons
our mothers setting the table
our brothers teasing
each other
and James and me
we got a girl
there in Carolina
in our mind
sometimes
my brain gets ahead
of me
and I play catch up
but by the time
I get to where
my thinking is
it was
and I’m left hanging
my heart stranded
in air
so sometimes
I should just
let it go
off on its own
and stay put
where the heart is
letting things follow
whatever course they follow
without thinking
too much
I am a peach tree blooming in a deep pit.
Who is there I may turn to and smile?
You are the moon up in the far sky;
Passing, you looked down on me an hour; then went on forever.
A sword with the keenest edge,
Could not cut the stream of water in twain
So that it would cease to flow.
My thought is like the stream; and flows and follows you on forever.
translated by Shigeyoshi Obata
Up the river by the White King City,
The water swells and the wind is high.
It is May. Through the Chu-tang gorge
Who dares to sail down to me now–
Down to Ching-chow, where the barley is ripe
And the silk worms have made their cocoons–
Where I sit and spin, with my thoughts of you
Endless as the silk strands?
The cuckoo calls high up in the air. Ah, me!. . .
translated by Shigeyoshi Obata
The road to Shuh is more difficult to climb than to climb the steep blue heaven.
I shrug my shoulders and heave a long sigh–gazing into the west.
translated by Shigeyoshi Obata
The wind blows the willow bloom and fills the whole tavern with fragrance
While the pretty girls of Wu bid us taste the new wine.
My good comrades of Chin-ling, hither you have come to see me off.
I, going, still tarry; and we drain our cups evermore.
Pray ask the river, which is the longer of the two–
Its east-flowing stream, or the thoughts of ours at parting!
translated by Shigeyoshi Obata
Here friends come, sorrowing, to say farewell,
Oh Lao-lao Ting, tavern where every heart must ache.
Here even the wind of spring knows the pain of parting,
And will not let the willow branches grow green.
translated by Shigeyoshi Obata
mountains rivers
to cross
an ancient road
leading to cherished goods
a traveler embarks
on foot
uncertain of what awaits
at the final
destination
You ask me when I am coming. I do not know.
I dream of your mountains and autumn pools brimming all night with the rain.
Oh, when shall we be trimming wicks again, together in your western window?
When shall I be hearing your voice again, all night in the rain?
translated by Witter Bynner & Kiang Kang-hu
Being Present for the Moment
Website storys
Illustration, Concept Art & Comics/Manga
Singer, Songwriter and Author from Kyoto, Japan.
Singer, Songwriter and Author from Kyoto, Japan.
An online activist from Bosnia and Herzegovina, based in Sarajevo, standing on the right side of the history - for free Palestine.
A place where I post unscripted, unedited, soulless rants of a insomniac madman
Dennis Mantin is a Toronto-based writer, artist, and filmmaker.
Finding Inspiration
Off the wall, under the freeway, over the rainbow, nothin' but net.
Erm, what am I doing with my life?
Artist by choice, photographer by default, poet by accident.
At Least Trying Too
A Journey of Spiritual Significance
Life in islamic point of view
Through the view point of camera...
L'essenziale è invisibile e agli occhi e al cuore. Beccarlo è pura questione di culo
In Kate's World
Leonard Durso 