Autumn, cloud blades on the horizon.
The west wind blows from ten thıousand miles.
Dawn, in the early morning air,
Farmers busy after a long rain.
The desert trees shed their few good leaves.
The mountain pears are tiny but ripe.
A tartar flute plays by the city gate.
A single wild goose climbs into the void.
translated by Kenneth Rexroth
Being Present for the Moment
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Leonard Durso 
That last half of the poem is very intriguing. I keep wanting to read some symbolism into the successive images, but I’m not sure what. Thanks for sharing!
I’m glad you liked it. Tu Fu spent much of his life far from home which explains, I think, the tone of many of his poems.
What a great poem and moving (but still) translation by Rexroth. Beautiful. Thanks for posting, L!
I’m glad you liked this one. It’s clear why he is considered one of China’s greatest poets.