Written for Master Chan’s Room at the Double Bamboo Temple by Su Tung-p’o

Strike your own evening drum, morning bell,
then shut the door. Lamp burning low by a solitary pillow;
gray ashes where just now you stirred the stove to red.
Lie and listen to raindrops spattering the window.

translated by Burton Watson

5 thoughts on “Written for Master Chan’s Room at the Double Bamboo Temple by Su Tung-p’o

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