what’s in a name
one asks
then it is apparent
they are tags
to our lives
her name is
enchantress
her spirit captivates
a streak of fire
in her soul
there’s magic
in her smile
a spell
is being cast
so trend softly
Circe turned men
into swine
to keep a wanderer
captive
there are dangers
on this journey
called life
one-eyed giants
violent storms
sirens’ songs
one can ride out
a storm
plug one’s ears
to a siren’s songs
fool one-eyed giants
with a club
all it takes
is your wits
to hold onto
your life
but this enchantress
is more dangerous
she will snatch
something more valuable
which your wits
cannot protect
your heart
Month: October 2014
Taking A Trail Up From Deva-king Monastery To The Guesthouse Where My Friend Wang Chung-hsin And I Wrote Our Names On A Wall Fifty Years Ago, I Find The Names Still There by Lu Yu
Meandering these greens, azure all around, you plumb antiquity.
East of the wall, above the river, stands this ancient monastery,
its thatched halls we visited so long ago. You a mountain sage,
I here from Wei River northlands: we sipped wine, wrote poems.
Painted paddle still, I drift awhile free. Then soon, I’m nearing
home, azure walking-stick in hand, my recluse search ending.
Old friends dead and gone, their houses in ruins, I walk through
thick bamboo, deep cloud, each step a further step into confusion.
translated by David Hinton
Farewell to Yin Shu by Li Po (Li Bai)
We drink deeply beneath dragon bamboo,
our lamp faint, the moon cold again.
On the sandbar, startled by drunken song,
a snowy egret lifts away past midnight.
translated by David Hinton
Night at the Tower by Tu Fu
Yin and Yang cut brief autumn days short. Frost and snow
Clear, leaving a cold night open at the edge of heaven.
Marking the fifth watch, grieving drums and horns erupt as
A river of stars, shadows trembling, drifts in Three Gorges.
Pastoral weeping–war heard in how many homes? And tribal
Songs drifting from the last woodcutters and fishermen. . . . .
Chu-ko Liang, Pai-ti: all brown earth in the end. And it
Opens, the story of our lives opens away. . . .vacant, silent.
translated by David Hinton
note: Chu-ko Liang & Pai-ti were both state ministers: one famous, the other infamous. Thus,Tu Fu uses another set of opposites in this poem.
Moonlit Night by Tu Fu
Tonight at Fu-chou, this moon she watches
Alone in our room. And my little, far-off
Children, too young to understand what keeps me
Away, or even remember Ch’ang-an. By now,
Her hair will be mist-scented, her jade-white
Arms chilled in its clear light. When
Will it find us together again, drapes drawn
Open, light traced where it dries our tears?
translated by David Hinton
6th Moon, 27th Sun: Sipping Wine at Lake-View Tower by Su Tung-p’o
I
Black clouds, soaring ink, nearly blot out these mountains.
White raindrops, skipping pearls, skitter wildly into the boat,
then wind comes across furling earth, scatters them away,
and below Lake-View Tower, lakewater suddenly turns to sky.
II
Setting animals loose–fish and turtles–I’m an exile out here,
but no one owns waterlilies everywhere blooming, blooming.
This lake pillows mountains, starts them glancing up and down,
and my breezy boat wanders free, drifts with an aimless moon.
translated by David Hinton
For Li Po by Tu Fu
Autumn returns, and again we are cast thistledown together
on the winds. The elixir of immortality has eluded us—
Ko Hung must be ashamed. Days drunk and singing too loud,
Given to the wind, yet resolute–so brave, and for whom?
translated by David Hinton
Ch’en-t’ao Lament by Tu Fu
Now fine homes in ten prefectures have dead sons
making water with their blood on Ch’en-t’ao Marsh.
An early winter’s panoramic waste: crystal sky,
the silence of war. Forty thousand dead in a day.
Mongol battalions return. Their arrows bathed blood-
black, drunk in the markets, they sing Mongol songs.
And we face north to mourn, another day conjuring
our army’s appearance passing into hopeful night.
translated by David Hinton
what’s left
you tossed back
your long hair
straightened
your shoulders
and said
later
what’s left is
your scent
lingering
in the air
your smile
etched
in my mind
your promise
engraved
on my heart
At Dragon-inception Monastery, Visiting Tu Fu’s Old House by Lu Yu
We’ve tossed aside the tranquil peace of those northern grasslands:
Mongol dust overran both capitals, left defenses burning, burning.
Adviser no more, grown old, your ten-thousand-mile life wandering. . .
Come here under cold skies, I listen to the sound of a river flowing.
translated by David Hinton
Leonard Durso 