The ox path I’m on ends in a rabbit trail, and suddenly
I’m facing open plains and empty sky on all four sides.
My thoughts follow white egrets–a pair taking flight,
leading sight across a million blue mountains rising
ridge beyond ridge, my gaze lingering near then far,
enthralled by peaks crowded together or there alone.
Even a hill or valley means thoughts beyond knowing–
and all this? A crusty old man’s now a wide-eyed child!
translated by David Hinton
I pour out a cup or two of emerald wine inside the cabin.
The door swings closed, then back open onto exquisite
ranged mountains: ten thousand wrinkles unseen by anyone,
and every ridge hand-picked by the sun’s slant light.
translated by David Hinton
A fisherman’s taking his boat deep across the lake.
My old eyes trace his path all the way, his precise
wavering in and out of view. Then it gets strange:
suddenly he’s a lone goose balanced on a bent reed.
translated by David Hinton
It has turned crystal clear lately
And flows away like a ribbon of smoke
With a music like a ten strınged zither.
The sound penetrates to my pillow,
And turns my mind to past loves,
And won’t let me sleep for melancholy.
translated by Kenneth Rexroth & Ling Chung
there they are
those faces
from the past
filtering through
my dreams
causing confusion
asking questions
that can no longer
be answered
about their take
on events
long gone
and I break
an oath
pour whiskey
down my throat
in the vain attempt
to find sleep
bereft of dreams
Outside this office, night such luminous depths,
the lovely moon’s a delight wandering with me.
Descending across the river, it comes halfway
adrift on dew-tinged air, then suddenly startles
autumn, scattering color through open forests,
scrawling its disk on the current’s utter clarity.
And reaching mind, it bestows boundless light
all silver-pure azure eluding us to perfection.
translated by David Hinton
he sits
intently listening
the call of the wild
feral cats
crying for food
attention
envying him
his comfort
from the storms
the cold
the night
and he
wondering
what he’s lost
of his nature
to live
beholding
to no man
just his own wits
himself
and I
understanding
both
I stand
on my balcony
gazing up
at the full moon
3 am
Izmir time
thousands of miles
from your eyes
gazing up
at the same moon
there
our faces reflected
on its surface
eyes meet
one time
more
before clouds
drift across
our gaze
Autumn’s cold, the window wide open.
A tilted moon fills the room with light.
It’s midnight, and nothing need be said:
just two smiles behind a gauze curtain.
translated by David Hinton
peanut butter
from the jar
crunchy of course
for dinner
plus bits and pieces
of steak
graciously given to me
by a neighbor
for Bayramı
and a glass
of ice cold water
man
what a life
I lead
then back to Katzenzakis
bound and determined
to finish this
by dawn’s light
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 