back & forth
it goes
over & over
again
a ping-pong game
of feelings
never yes
never no
forever
somewhere
in between
Month: November 2014
Mourning Meng Hao-jan by Wang Wei
My dear friend nowhere in sight,
this Han River keeps flowing east.
Now, if I look for old masters here,
I find empty rivers and mountains.
translated by David Hinton
holidays
an empty spot
at the table
a conversation
not held
gifts
not given
nor received
a hole
in a life
to be filled
later
at a table
in a home
somewhere
else
Sent to Ch’ao, the Palace Reviser by Meng Hao-jan
You polish words in rue-scented libraries,
and I live in bamboo-leaf gardens, a recluse
wandering every day the same winding path
home to rest in the quiet, no noise anywhere.
A bird soaring the heights can choose a tree,
but the hedge soon tangles impetuous goats.
Today, things seen becoming thoughts felt:
this is where you start forgetting the words.
translated by David Hinton
Hsiang-yang Travels: Thinking of Meng Hao-jan by Po Chü-i
Emerald Ch’u mountain peaks and cliffs,
emerald Han River flowing full and fast:
Meng’s writing survives here, its elegant
ch’i now facets of changing landscape.
But today, chanting the poems he left us
and thinking of him, I find his village
clear wind, all memory of him vanished.
Dusk light fading, Hsiang-yang empty,
I look south to Deer-Gate Mountain, haze
lavish, as if some fragrance remained,
but his old mountain home is lost there:
mist thick and forests all silvered azure.
translated by David Hinton
defining expectations
she said
I get lost
in love
and I said
I get found
a difference
in expectations
and definitions
in a language
we both
are trying
to learn
contemplating if
if
the longest word
in the English language
it takes forever
to cross
from the beginning
to the end
of that word
and much
is lost
along the way
In Reply to P’ei Ti by Wang Wei
The cold river spreads boundless away.
Autumn rains darken azure-deep skies.
You ask about Whole-South Mountain:
the mind knows beyond white clouds.
translated by David Hinton
anticipation
wine can’t quiet
the nerves
which twitch
and the heart
which beats
a bit faster
even the cat
quite accustomed
to mood shifts
is jumpy
and avoids
the open suitcase
and what it signifies
will follow
Autumn Thoughts: 1 by Meng Chiao
1
Lonely bones can’t sleep nights. Singing
insects keep calling them, calling them.
And the old have no tears. When they sob,
autumn weeps dewdrops. Strength failing
all at once, as if cut loose, and ravages
everywhere, like weaving unraveled,
I touch thread-ends. No new feelings.
Memories crowding thickening sorrow,
how could I bear southbound sails, how
wander rivers and mountains of the past?
translated by David Hinton
Leonard Durso 